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[Illustration: J. B. Lockwood U S A]




                            FARTHEST NORTH;


                                  OR,

 _THE LIFE AND EXPLORATIONS OF LIEUTENANT JAMES BOOTH LOCKWOOD, OF THE
                       GREELY ARCTIC EXPEDITION_.


                                   BY
                            CHARLES LANMAN.


                               NEW YORK:
                        D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
                        1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET.
                                 1885.


_When we think of the adventure of our times; when we recall the great
Arctic explorations that have called forth an endurance and daring which
have been unsurpassed in other days; . . . what is there that is more
romantic than they are in any history of any age?_

                                         _From a Thanksgiving Sermon by_
                                                   Rev. Phillips Brooks.


                            Copyright, 1885,
                      By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.




                                PREFACE.


It is believed that this book, with its true but none the less stirring
adventures, will be of much interest to the general public, as well as
gratifying to the many warm friends of Lieutenant Lockwood. It will
likewise correct any erroneous impressions which may have arisen from
the publication of garbled extracts from the official journals kept by
the different members of the Greely party and, by order of the War
Department, laid open to the public. By this order, Lockwood’s journal
and those of others became public property, and hence any reference to
them in advance of their official publication is allowable.

The few pages devoted to the early life can not be expected to
especially interest the general public, but will gratify Lieutenant
Lockwood’s friends. They are here produced to give them permanency, and
to show his sterling character.

No attempt is here made to give a history of the Expedition, and only so
much of Lockwood’s journal is produced as shows his connection
therewith. The voyage to Lady Franklin Bay is given more in detail, as
it presents a lively picture of an interesting people not much known,
and as it exhibits the buoyant spirits with which he entered upon the
work, before dissensions in camp had checked them, though without
marring his faithfulness and energy. The important part he had in the
enterprise, his zeal, energy, and loyalty to his chief and to the cause,
all are fully set forth, and will be more clearly seen when the more
elaborate history of the Expedition shall be published by Lieutenant
Greely, as will shortly be done.

Although the journal has been freely used, its language and style have
not been closely followed, except in those parts quoted which refer to
Lockwood’s sentiments and feelings. The deep pathos of these could be
expressed as well in no other words.

His journal is very full and complete on the perilous boat-voyage to
Cape Sabine, and in the heart-rending struggle for life in that
ever-memorable hut where he and so many others laid down their lives.
This has purposely been reduced to a few pages, giving the story only so
far as Lieutenant Lockwood was connected with it. The same, may be said
as to the home-life at the station on Lady Franklin Bay.

The portrait of Lieutenant Lockwood is from an excellent photograph
taken a short time before he started for St. John’s, and two of the
woodcuts are from photographs by Sergeant Rice. “Arctic Sledging” was
made up from a description and a sketch by Sergeant Brainard, and
“Farthest North” from a sketch by Lieutenant Lockwood.

The map is a reproduction of that published by the London Geographical
Society, which is an exact transcript of maps drawn by Lieutenant
Lockwood and submitted by him to Lieutenant Greely with reports of
sledge-journeys. This map gives the names agreed upon by Lieutenant
Greely and Lieutenant Lockwood, and are those referred to in the journal
and in this book. It is much to be regretted that many of these names
differ from those on the official map published by authority to the
world. The names first given commemorate events connected with those
wonderful sledge-journeys, as will be seen in the text; and, if a few
unimportant lakes and points were named after friends and relatives,
this might have been conceded to one who accomplished so much, and that
much so well. The map of the London Geographical Society will probably
live, and the other perish, as it should.

Captain Markham, Royal Navy, soon after the return of the Greely
Expedition, declared, in articles published in a leading English
magazine, that Lockwood never got beyond Cape Britannia, and that he
mistook Cape May for that cape, etc. It was thought that, when the
history of this sledge-journey was better known, Markham would be glad
to withdraw this ungenerous aspersion. This is done so far as to admit
that Lockwood did reach 83° 24′ north latitude, 44° 5′ west longitude;
but it is now said, in the article “Polar Regions,” of the new
Encyclopædia Britannica, written by the captain’s brother, that all this
region had previously been explored and exhaustively examined by the
English expedition of 1875-’76.

This is very remarkable, in view of the fact that Lockwood Island, which
was reached by Lockwood, is one hundred geographical miles east and
forty miles north of Cape Britannia which Beaumont saw at the distance
of twenty miles, but never reached.

In the same article are expressed sentiments in accord with those
contained in this book, viz.: “If the simple and necessary precaution
had been taken of stationing a depot-ship in a good harbor at the
entrance of Smith’s Sound, in annual communication with Greely on one
side and with America on the other, there would have been no disaster.
If precautions proved to be necessary by experience are taken, there is
no undue risk or danger in polar enterprises. There is no question as to
the value and importance of polar discovery, and as to the principles on
which expeditions should be sent out. Their objects are exploration for
scientific purposes and the encouragement of maritime enterprise.”




                               CONTENTS.


                                                                    PAGE
  I. Early Life                                                        7
  II. Army-Life in Arizona                                            20
  III. Army-Life in Nebraska                                          31
  IV. Army-Life in Kansas                                             43
  V. Army-Life in Indian Territory and Colorado                       52
  VI. Preparing for the Arctic Regions                                58
  VII. From Newfoundland to Lady Franklin Bay                         64
  VIII. House-building and Local Explorations                         87
  IX. Preliminary Sledge Expeditions and Life at the Station         111
  X. “The Arctic Moon”                                               132
  XI. Expedition to Lockwood Island                                  139
  XII. From Lockwood Island to Lady Franklin Bay                     178
  XIII. Waiting and Watching                                         194
  XIV. Resuming a Desperate Struggle                                 229
  XV. Across Grinnell Land                                           249
  XVI. Preparing for Home                                            279
  XVII. Homeward Bound                                               286
  XVIII. The Final Catastrophe                                       296
  XIX. The Woeful Return                                             317




                             ILLUSTRATIONS.


  Portrait of James B. Lockwood.
  Lockwood, Natives, and Kyack at Disco, Greenland.
  Sledging over the Arctic Floe.
  Taking Observations at Lockwood Island.
  Lockwood’s Corner.
  Map showing Lockwood’s Explorations.




                            FARTHEST NORTH.




                                   I.
                              EARLY LIFE.


In the following pages, it is proposed to record the personal history of
an American hero whose fortune it was, at the sacrifice of his life, to
visit and explore the utmost limit in the Arctic regions ever attained
by human skill and enterprise. Aside from the information communicated
to me by his family, the materials placed in my hands consist of his
private correspondence and various journals which he faithfully kept
while serving his country on the Western frontiers, as well as in the
inhospitable domain of the North. As the poet Fitz-Greene Halleck wrote
about a kindred character—

  “He lived, as mothers wish their sons to live,”

and, on the score of fidelity to duty,

  “He died, as fathers wish their sons to die,”

leaving a name that will long be honored in every civilized land as that
of a martyr in the cause of geographical exploration.

Many of those connected with the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland,
before the civil war, will remember a playful and mischievous boy, whose
ready smile and cheerful ways beguiled them in their hours of
relaxation. Others who were at that school after the war will remember
the same boy, grown into a youth of sixteen years, rugged in aspect,
devoted to manly sports, and assiduous in all his duties. It is the
story of his brief but eventful life to which this volume is devoted,
written for the information of his friends and all those who admire true
heroism and rare abilities when allied to sufferings for the public
weal.

James Booth Lockwood was the second son and third child of General Henry
H. Lockwood and Anna Booth Lockwood. He was born at the Naval Academy,
Annapolis, on the 9th of October, 1852, at which time and place his
father—a Professor of Mathematics in the Navy—instructed the midshipmen
in the military branches, as he had done for many years before. Both his
parents were from the State of Delaware, and came from the best stock of
that State; and, as his father taught his students “how to shoot,” and
prepare themselves for the conflicts of life, it was quite natural that
the son should have acquired a love of noble deeds and adventure.

Like many boys, he had his narrow escapes from death, one of which
occurred in April, 1860, when, having fallen into the river from the
dock, he was rescued in an insensible condition, and restored to life
with great difficulty. This escape must have been recalled by him with
special emotion in after-years amid his struggles with the ice of
Smith’s Sound.

His innate love of fun had been one of his characteristics from
childhood, nor was it subdued even when recovering from the accident
which nearly cost him his life; for, while lying in his bed, he peered
into his father’s face with a quizzical smile, and remarked, “I was
drowned, but not drowned dead.”

When the Naval Academy was occupied by a general of the army, in 1861,
and the students and professors were transferred to Newport, Rhode
Island, young Lockwood accompanied his father and family, and was placed
at a public school in that place. After a brief residence in Newport,
his father, being a graduate of the Military Academy at West Point, was
called upon to command a volunteer regiment of Delaware troops, and
having been subsequently commissioned a brigadier-general of volunteers,
he was placed in charge of the Eastern Shore counties of Virginia and
returned to the region of hostilities, making his headquarters at
Drummondtown, in Accomac County. In this quaint and quiet place, and
while a mere stripling of ten years, young Lockwood displayed his love
of adventure and active life by forming a company of all the <DW52>
boys in the village, erecting earthworks in a vacant lot, and, all armed
with corn-stalks and broom-handles, meeting a company of white boys in
mimic war—noisy, if not dangerous to life or limb. The vanity of
personal strife, however, soon becoming irksome to his mind, he turned
his attention to horsemanship, and explored the surrounding shores of
Accomac on a Chincoteague pony belonging to his father. He also spent
many quiet hours conversing about horses and their habits with the
soldiers in the garrison, with whom he was a special favorite. After a
while, his father was transferred to the command of troops at Harper’s
Ferry, and there a new field of adventure occupied the attention of the
incipient hero. He was foremost in climbing the neighboring
mountain-heights and scaling precipices, and always on the lookout for
adventure along the waters of the Potomac. Afterward, when living with
his family near the city of Baltimore, he displayed his activity and
energy in other ways. When neighboring boys were wont to trespass on his
father’s grounds and fruit-trees, he was quite as ready to defend his
home as he had been in Accomac to maintain the national struggle then
rending the land. And here it was that he often accompanied his father
on his rounds among the military works near Baltimore, and always
attracted the attention of the troops by his skill in riding. But these
experiences were not deemed satisfactory for molding the character of a
boy, and then it was that his father sent him to a boarding-school at
Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, kept by a Mr. Schwartz, a good scholar and
strict disciplinarian. Of course, like those of all boys, his letters
teemed with complaints. He was _very homesick_—a mere child separated
from all he loved. In one letter he spoke of praying to God to make him
satisfied. In after-years, and when suffering all the horrors of the
Arctic, his mother’s prayer was that his childhood’s star might again
arise, and lead his sorrowing heart to that comfort found only above.
His chief grievances were a Dutch dish regularly given to the boys,
called _scrapul_, and the discipline of _powers_ administered to those
who failed in their studies. In this latter punishment, the delinquent
was required to raise to the fortieth, fiftieth, or one hundredth power
any number given him. However distasteful to him at the time, he seems
to have changed his mind upon the subjects of food and discipline
afterward; for he became, after his return home, a strong advocate of
_scrapul_ as a physical, and of “powers” as a mental diet. Returning, in
1866, with his father to Annapolis, he was sent to St. John’s College in
that place, and at that time in a flourishing condition, under the able
administration of James C. Welling, now the accomplished President of
Columbian College. Although his mental abilities were acknowledged as
superior, he preferred action to books, and his success there was not
satisfactory to his father. Others known to be his mental inferiors took
a higher stand. He, however, read some Latin, and made considerable
progress in mathematics. Here we come to a new illustration of his
character. During his residence within the walls of the Academy, a
species of tyranny existed among the sons of naval officers of his own
age with whom he associated, which he could not endure. Rank in the
father was supposed to give rank or prestige to the son. This theory
young Lockwood was unwilling to acknowledge, and the consequence was
that he soon found himself beset by those whom he opposed. But then, as
always with the free and brave, right prevailed, and the aggressors were
sent to the wall, while the fearless victor very soon became the peer of
his associates. The situation of the Academy offering peculiar
facilities for boating, fishing, swimming, etc., the professor’s son
became an expert in all these exercises, making pets of his sail and row
boats, as he had done with the ponies of Chincoteague. Many of the
Annapolis students, now high officers in the navy, have spoken of his
frolicsome pranks at that time within the grounds of the Academy—for
example, how he mimicked the strut of the drum-major, how he teased the
watchman by hiding among the trees and bushes, personating an intruder
on the grounds, and how he alarmed the servant-maids and the children by
appearing suddenly before them like a phantom. He was more fond of
reading than of study, and among his favorite books were those of De
Foe, Mayne Reid, and others of that class. To what extent he was
familiar with the histories of John Ledyard and Joseph R. Bellot can not
be stated, but there is a striking similarity in their characters, and
indeed it was the fate of the latter, like Lockwood, to lose his life in
the Arctic regions. They form a trio of remarkable explorers, whose fame
will be perennial, but it was the fate of the last one mentioned to
reach the highest success. During the latter part of his residence at
Annapolis, he spent many of his spare hours on his father’s farm. By way
of encouragement, his father assigned to him a patch of ground for his
special cultivation, with fertilizers and the use of a team. To the
surprise of all, his success seemed amazing, and his crops were good and
profitable. With the money thus secured he purchased for himself a watch
and a sporting gun. He had a special fondness for dogs, and exerted over
them great influence. His favorite in this direction was a short-legged,
long-bodied, common rat-terrier. In the purity of this dog’s blood, he
was a decided believer, which faith he maintained with many hot
arguments, and exemplified by teaching the animal a great variety of
tricks. Indeed, the high degree of training to which he brought the dog
Jack was remarkable. He was always quiet and positive toward the animal,
and Jack gave his commands a serious and implicit obedience. One of the
feats performed by the dog was to carry a candlestick with a lighted
candle wherever ordered to do so. Another was to this effect: the boy
would place a small scrap of paper on the parlor wall at a height which
Jack was hardly able to reach. Jack’s attention would then be called to
the paper, and the dog and master would retire up-stairs. Some time
afterward, Jack, in obedience to a mere word, would proceed to the
parlor, and, to the amusement of those congregated there, launch his
body at the paper until he finally secured it, and then would carry it
to his master. Although this dog had a special dislike for fire, he
would, under orders, pull chestnuts out of the hot coals, even if it
took him an hour to perform the task; and it is also related of him that
on one occasion, when he slipped his muzzle on the Academy grounds, he
picked it up and took it to his master. When the lad’s father was
ordered to the National Observatory, the family removing to Washington,
the pet dog accompanied them, and the intimacy between the dog and his
master was unabated. They often rambled through the streets together,
and it was during one of their walks along Pennsylvania Avenue that the
dog disappeared, and was never recovered by his owner, whose grief was
most sincere and manifest. He published an advertisement, and, true to
his regard for the departed, he spoke of it as a pure-blooded animal;
which statement was probably the reason why the dog was never returned,
as no stranger could have believed in the alleged pedigree of such an
ungainly creature.

After young Lockwood’s father and family had become settled in
Washington, it was decided that he should return to Annapolis and take
charge of the farm until some more suitable or congenial employment
should come into view. In looking over the home letters which he wrote
at that time, I find a few developments of character which are worthy of
mention. For example, in February, 1872, he writes as follows:

“I find Annapolis the same as ever. It would hardly do for Rip Van
Winkle to go to sleep here, for, when he awoke, he would find no change,
not even by death.”

After speaking in the same letter of a man going to purchase implements
in Baltimore, he says: “I think it would pay one capable of judging of
such things, or one endowed with ‘Lockwood Common Sense,’” this allusion
being to an imaginary manual which the children had attributed to their
father. The quiet humor of the youthful farmer is manifested in another
letter after this fashion: “I have been suffering all the week from the
effects of a poison most probably communicated from some vine. It
manifests itself pretty much as Job’s troubles showed themselves, and no
position of body except standing affords relief. I haven’t yet got down
into the ashes. If tartar emetic produced these eruptions, they might be
attributed in some way to the evil agency of Mrs. W——.”

The person here alluded to was the one who became notorious for the
alleged poisoning of General W. S. Ketcham, in Baltimore. Young Lockwood
had met her at a boarding-house in Annapolis after her release from
prison, and was agreeably impressed by her conversation and manners. On
a subsequent occasion, when visiting his family in Washington, and some
severe remark had been made against the lady in question, he demanded
that the company present should not abuse an absent friend in his
presence. Being of a sensitive nature in regard to the weather, as is
proved by several of his Annapolis letters, and by such passages as the
one now to be quoted, it seems surprising that he should ever have
decided to visit the icy regions of the North.

“This gloomy weather,” he says, “is by no means calculated to elate
one’s spirits, but, on the contrary, makes everything appear in its most
dreary and desolate light, especially on a farm like this, and, though
the spring will bring more work and attention, yet I shall hail its
appearance with joy. I must confess that I can not prevent a feeling of
loneliness from coming over me, particularly in the daytime, for at
night my lamp and open wood-fire make things more cheerful, or rather
less dreary.”

As these letters were written from a farm, and by a mere boy, they are
chiefly devoted to asking for advice as to how he should manage affairs,
and to reporting the condition of the crops; but, in their way, they
prove that there was much solid manhood in the lad, and that he looked
upon life as something substantial, and not as a kind of dreamland.

On one occasion, when visiting his home, he noticed that one of his
sisters was manifesting what he thought an unreasonable excitement about
the advent of cockroaches in the kitchen, whereupon he drew the figure
of a vessel under full sail, beneath which he wrote the following: “The
brig Anna Baby, bound to the north pole for a load of cockroaches.”

On another occasion, after consulting the family copy of Webster’s
Dictionary, he wrote upon one of the fly-leaves, opposite the
indorsements of Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and other distinguished men,
these words: “I regard this dictionary as very good, especially when you
can not get any other.”

These incidents, though unimportant, help us to appreciate the character
of the critical and independent youth.

The following example of the boy’s ingenuity is also worth mentioning:

In 1870 a brother-in-law gave him a small, cheap clock, about four and a
half inches in diameter, which he at once adapted to the purpose of
waking himself in the morning. After joining the slats of his bed
together with battens, he sawed them through in the middle and hinged
the parts. That half of the arrangement which was at the head of the bed
was supported only by a single prop. A minute collar of lead was
supported by one of the hands of the clock. At the proper time the lead
slipped from the hand automatically, and, in falling, set in motion a
system of levers which were connected with the prop by a string. Thus,
with unfailing regularity, the prop was jerked from its place, and the
young occupant of the bed was pitched headlong to the floor among his
pillows and bolster. When he tired of this apparatus, it became his
custom at night to hitch a string around his foot, the end of the string
being passed out of the window and allowed to trail down to the
kitchen-door. At a definite time in the morning, previously ordered, the
<DW52> cook pulled the string until she received intimation of a
successful result.

In the hope of finding more congenial employment, young Lockwood now
fixed his mind on engineer work in connection with railroads. He joined
a corps on the Texas and Pacific Railroad line, and went to the
northeastern corner of the State of Texas, where, for four months, he
drove pegs and cut down bushes in the virgin wilderness, which
employment was only terminated by the failure of the company to go on
with its enterprise. What with the rough people with whom he was
compelled to associate, the hard fare at the rude taverns, and a severe
attack of sickness, he had a very disagreeable experience, which was
enhanced by the non-payment of wages by the company, and by the
temporary loss of the spare money furnished by his father, which was
taken from him by the rascality of a pretended friend, an employé of the
railroad company. By careful financial engineering, he managed to leave
the wilderness of Texas, went to Shreveport, and thence to New Orleans,
where he took a steamer for Cincinnati, and on this trip he met with one
small bit of good fortune. Owing to his limited means he contracted with
the captain of the steamer that he should be carried to Cincinnati, O.,
for a specific sum, all his meals to be included in the passage-money.
It so happened, however, that the steamer was detained by floating ice
for three weeks, but this caused no detriment to the traveler’s pocket,
as time was not “nominated in the bond.” About eleven years after that
experience, the same traveler was fighting his way through the ice of
the Arctic seas and enduring the horrors of Cape Sabine, finding it
difficult to secure necessary rations at any price or of any quality.

On reaching home, he began the study of bookkeeping with a view to the
civil service. With others, he was examined for a position in the
Treasury Department. He passed the examination with credit, and received
a mark much above the number required for passing, but, when the
office-mark was thrown in, as was then the custom, his average was
reduced, and those who had personal influence and understood the “tricks
of the trade” became the successful applicants.




                                  II.
                         ARMY-LIFE IN ARIZONA.


After finding that farming and railroad engineering were not exactly the
employments he had fancied them to be, young Lockwood resumed his
studies under the direction of his father. Not long afterward, however,
he was seized with the idea of entering the army, and, at the very
outset of this venture for a useful life, he was met with a blending of
good and bad fortune. Securing the influence of many friends, he made a
successful appeal to the President and the War Department. He received
orders for an examination before the proper tribunal, and, out of
thirty-eight young men who were examined in Washington, he passed No. 1.
He also had a higher mark than any of those examined in other places at
the same time; hence he was entitled to the highest commission as second
lieutenant, and at one time it was resolved to give it to him; but, as
the examinations were conducted in different places and before different
boards, it was decided to settle the rank of the applicants by lot, and
Lockwood’s number was forty, instead of one to which he was justly
entitled. He was, however, promised a crack regiment, and hence became
second lieutenant in the Twenty-third Infantry, then commanded by two
officers who had gained distinction in the late war—Colonel Jefferson C.
Davis and Lieutenant-Colonel George Crook. He soon after joined the
recruiting station at New York for instruction.

The few letters that Lieutenant Lockwood wrote home from New York
contained very graphic pictures of what he there observed. His reception
at the recruiting-station was most cordial, one of the first things done
there by the recruiting-officers, to his surprise, being to bring forth
a demijohn of whisky; but from this hospitality he begged to be excused,
only one or two other young men following his example.

After a service of several weeks at the recruiting-station in New York,
he conducted recruits to the Territory of Arizona by the way of Panama.
The party left New York in November, 1873, and, on reaching San
Francisco, went by steamer to Fort Yuma, near the mouth of the Colorado
River, and thence marched over the rugged and dusty plains of Arizona to
McDowell Post, a distance of more than one hundred and fifty miles in
the interior.

From the few letters that he wrote respecting his trip from New York to
San Francisco, we gather the following items:

“Aspinwall is a dirty, sandy town, of no architectural pretensions. I
cannot better describe it than by asking you to imagine Lockwoodville[1]
with a lot of palm- and cocoanut-trees growing in the vacant lots,
plenty of the sand and filth aforesaid, all the <DW54>s of Annapolis
sauntering around, plenty of children and many dogs, pigs, etc. However,
I must do Aspinwall justice—it has a neat little church, a marble
monument erected to some of its chief benefactors, and, what I should
call, a remarkably fine statue of Columbus, in bronze. It has an
enormous trade passing through it, from one ocean to the other, and is
really a place of great importance to the mercantile world.”

“We reached Panama between four and five in the afternoon, after a very
interesting ride across the country, and were immediately embarked for
the Constitution—which lay two miles from shore—so that I had no
opportunity of seeing Panama, except from the water. The ship left
during the evening, and ever since has been ‘plowing the angry main’
toward San Francisco, excepting when stopping at some of the towns along
the coast. We have seen several of these, and they are all of one type,
that of Aspinwall, though on a much smaller scale. Some that I saw had
not half a dozen wooden houses, but consisted merely of reed-huts
covered with straw. One of these—Mazatlan—claims to have twenty thousand
inhabitants, but does not appear to have more than one tenth of that
number. All the tropical fruits were abundant at these places, and could
be purchased for a trifle. The Constitution is a side-wheeler of four
thousand tons, and has little motion, and, while sea-sickers are
abundant, I am not one of them. I have gained ten pounds, and now weigh
one hundred and sixty-one.”

Lockwood’s stay in San Francisco was too brief to afford him much
opportunity for observation, but here is what he said of the Chinese: “I
visited Chinatown this evening, and saw the Celestials in all their
glory. I saw many strange and amusing sights in their stores and shops
and along their streets, as they are very slow in adopting civilized
customs. I send along with this some Chinese pictures which I purchased.
I am very much pleased with San Francisco, and shall leave it with many
regrets. A walk through the Chinese quarter is like a visit to some
Chinese city on the other side of the Pacific.”

The few events of his trip along the coast to Yuma were to this effect:
Soon after leaving the Golden Gate, he experienced a storm that was far
from pacific in its character, far worse than any he had witnessed since
leaving New York; he visited Magdalena Bay, which impressed him as a
barren, miserable place, chiefly noted for its want of houses, and yet
of some importance as the shipping port of a dye-wood found in that
region; he also stopped at Carmen Island, where large quantities of salt
were found in the dry bed of a lake, and at Cape St. Lucas, but brought
away no favorable impressions from any of these remote places. With Yuma
City he was better pleased, describing its houses as small, one-story
affairs, built of adobe, more Mexican than American in character, and
its streets as far more dusty than those of Washington City; and the
mountains surrounding the city as very imposing. The Colorado reminded
him of the Red River—the channel winding and running between great
mud-flats and islands, all constantly changing, and abounding in many
kinds of water-fowl. He was interested in the Indian inhabitants, whom
he pitied for their poverty and degradation; occasionally seeing a
number of squaws reclining like quadrupeds on the mud-flats or in front
of their tiny oval huts.

The sojourn of Lieutenant Lockwood in Arizona lasted into the summer of
1874, and from the letters which he wrote home from Post McDowell may be
gathered some interesting particulars, illustrating his habits of close
observation in regard to men and events.

His journey from Fort Yuma to Camp McDowell was full of interest and was
greatly enjoyed. He had for companions two brother officers and three
ladies; traveled by ambulance, making marches of only about fifteen
miles; camped out every night, Lockwood himself sleeping on the ground
outside. As the country was very desolate and barren, they traveled
generally along the valley of the Gila, but their last march was over
desert land forty-five miles wide. They saw many relics along the route,
mounds, ruins, and immense ditches for irrigation. One immense pile of
rocks, called the Painted Rocks, was entirely covered with pictures of
lizards, Indians, beasts, and birds—supposed to represent a great battle
in which the Apaches conquered the Maricopas. There were also along the
road graves of men murdered by the Indians. One grave, near Gila Bend,
was of a man named Lumley, a station-keeper, murdered by two
Mexicans—his successor exhibited a knife, used by one of the murderers,
which had been found, and he pointed out the spot where Judge Lynch had
disposed of the only criminal that happened to be captured. While the
travelers did not spend any money at hotels, they were obliged to pay
from twenty to thirty dollars for being ferried across the Gila and Salt
Rivers at different points.

In one of his letters, written to his sister after the rainy season, and
soon after his arrival at Camp McDowell, young Lockwood says: “I wish
you could see the pretty flowers around here; they are principally
yellow and red, and each kind grows by itself. They grow so close
together that the ground is covered as with a carpet. To the west of
this post there is a wide plain covered with these flowers. There is
also a species of cactus called the Suwarrow, which grows fifteen or
twenty feet high—a sort of tree without branches, but covered with
thorns; the outside of this tree is of a green color and nearly as soft
as young asparagus, but inside it has a frame of wood. These are all
over the plain, in fact all over Arizona. I often walk out here after
dinner with a large dog that belongs to one of the officers, and start
up the rabbits—great big Jack-rabbits, as they are called—as large as a
small dog. They can run very fast, faster than any dog except a hound.
Among other curiosities about here are rattlesnakes and lizards—the
lizards as common as flies; also crows as big as hens and almost as
tame. The post is entirely surrounded by mountains.” By way of contrast
to this pleasing prospect, in another letter he gives the particulars of
the murder of two men by the Indians within twelve miles of the
garrison, their bodies having been fearfully mutilated. “I am still in
the land of the finite and material,” he writes, “and the Apaches have
not yet disturbed the arrangement of my back hair; in short, I am alive
and kicking.”

On the 14th of May, Lockwood writes that “there has been nothing new at
the post except the arrival of Lieutenant Schuyler, Fifth Cavalry. He
has been out on a scout for several months past, dropping in at various
posts now and then. He reports that he came upon the Apaches southeast
of here, killed twelve and took fourteen prisoners. He is accompanied by
Dr. Corbasier and a party of thirty-one soldiers and eighty-one Indian
scouts. These scouts are composed of Apache-Mojave, Tonto-Apaches, and
other tribes, closely allied to the Apaches proper. It seems strange
that they are thus willing to join the enemy in exterminating their
brethren; but such is their nature. They are hardly superior to the
beasts, except in shape, and even there the line of demarkation is not
very distinct. The Pimos, to the number of one hundred or more, were
here about a week ago, on their way to punish the Apaches for stealing
some stock from them. When they returned, they reported the killing of
quite a number of their foes—some sixteen or more—and taking many
prisoners. Schuyler’s party confirm the report; they came across the
camp of the Apaches, and the doctor said he counted a large number of
slain. The Pimos surprised the Apaches when asleep and almost
exterminated them. They were armed with war-clubs, and of course mangled
their bodies horribly. When found their heads were all beaten in, and
their bodies stuck full of arrows and partially burned. The doctor says
it was the most sickening sight he ever beheld. The Apache bands, off
their reservations, are fast becoming exterminated, over a thousand
having been killed during the last winter. General Crook will not allow
them to return to their reservations unless they bring the heads of
several of the ringleaders in the late outbreak.”

In another place, after alluding to the extravagant accounts published
about Arizona, he says: “One would suppose, from reading the pamphlet I
send you, that Arizona is a fine agricultural country—which is absurd;
and that it contains many flourishing cities and towns, whereas even the
river-bottoms require irrigation, and the ‘cities’ are merely the nuclei
of towns.”

On one occasion, after alluding to his enjoyment of the newspapers sent
him from home, and to the early transfer of his regiment, he says: “It
would probably have been removed this spring but for the financial panic
and other commercial disasters. I suppose if the rest of the year goes
by prosperously, and nothing occurs to prolong the gingerly, penny-wise,
pound-foolish policy of Congress called economy (?), that the
Twenty-third will probably be removed next spring or fall.” And again,
he continues: “Grant appears to have obtained great credit by his veto
of the Inflation Bill. How Congress could pass a bill which seems to be
unacceptable and repugnant to the whole people, I can not understand.”

Alluding a second time to the _pleasing_ characteristics of frontier
life, he tells his father that “a party of Indian scouts arrived here
yesterday from Schuyler’s command. They brought the news that the
lieutenant had _jumped_ the Indians at Four Peaks—a high mountain, forty
miles off—killed eighteen and captured six. The party brought in a
wounded scout, shot through the head, who is now in the hospital. He was
the only one wounded in the fight, or rather slaughter, for these
Indians rarely fight a party of any size. I suppose these Arizona tribes
are the most degraded, cowardly, and despicable savages in the country.
Schuyler, as I understand, generally sweeps a breadth of country fifty
miles across, by means of flanking-parties on the right and left, and
has been quite successful.”

In speaking of his duties at the post, he says: “I am officer-of-the-day
every other day; I mount the guard every morning, attend all roll-calls,
accompany the captain in his inspection of quarters every morning, and
afterward recite tactics. I also am present with him at company-drill
every evening, command the company at Sunday morning inspection, sit on
boards of survey and perform other irregular duties.”

After announcing the arrival of the paymaster at the post, and alluding
to expenses, he says: “Servants in this country are paid enormously. The
post-trader pays his Chinese cook thirty dollars per month, and has paid
as high as one hundred dollars. Officers in Arizona are compelled from
necessity to employ soldiers in this capacity, though contrary to the
regulations.”

In one of his letters, Lieutenant Lockwood gives his opinion about some
of his father’s landed property, and then goes on after this fashion:
“The old farm has additional charms for me now, after living in Arizona,
and I have come to think that there are many worse places. Does distance
lend enchantment to the view? or what is it? I often long after some of
the delicious peaches and other fruit that the much-abused farm produces
in such abundance. However, if you can dispose of the farm as you
suggest, it will, no doubt, be for the best, as the Lockwood family have
become so _high-toned_ that I am afraid they will never _stoop_ (?) to
live on a farm and become _grangers_.”

In one of his letters written about this date, he makes the following
remark respecting his education at Annapolis: “I don’t think I care
about being present at the meeting of the alumni of my _Alma Mater_, or,
what she would be more pleased with, contributing anything in the way of
money. Enough has been thrown away in teaching me what has never been of
any use. However, the _old woman_ has my good wishes.”

In another letter, after speaking of an entertainment he had attended,
he said: “I don’t know that I should have enjoyed it, but for the
presence of a very pretty Spanish girl with whom I fell in love; she
danced charmingly, but as she could not speak a word of English, nor I a
word of Spanish, our conversation was somewhat limited.”

On the 4th of July when arrangements were commenced for removing the
Twenty-third Regiment to Yuma, the lieutenant thus touches upon the
national anniversary: “I have celebrated the day by being very busy
writing up the proceedings of a board of survey, and have a like job on
my hands for to-morrow; indeed, I shall be fully employed now till we
leave. Some of the men, however, have been otherwise employed, viz., in
parading before the guard-house with logs of wood on their backs, as the
reward of a drunken frolic. Our march to Fort Yuma will doubtless be
very disagreeable, and for two weeks we shall have dust and heat
together with the fatigue of travel; but, on the other hand, the daily
march will not be more than fifteen miles, and as we shall be well
provided, I can’t say that I look forward to it with much dread. The
wife of our captain is even now interesting herself in the culinary
arrangements, so I presume the _vitals_ will be good.” From the time of
his uttering this amusing pun until the following September, the letters
of young Lockwood give us no incidents of special interest, and we now
follow him into the State of Nebraska, his regiment having been assigned
to the favorite post of Omaha.




                                  III.
                         ARMY-LIFE IN NEBRASKA.


Having entered upon duty at the barracks of Omaha, he seems to have made
himself especially useful there, while enjoying some of the comforts of
civilization, including good society. On the 25th of September, he wrote
that he had been busy for a week as the recorder of a court-martial. “We
settled nine cases, and, while we now stand adjourned _sine die_, I
suppose the court will soon be reconvened to try half a dozen more men
against whom charges have been preferred. There have been, since my
arrival here, as many as sixty men in the guard-house, and
courts-martial are the order of the day. I have to attend drills, etc.,
every day, and hence my leisure and opportunities for visiting the town
have been limited. However, I did go last night to a concert in town
given for the benefit of the grasshopper sufferers, several of these
sufferers from the country being present. You can not realize what a
nuisance these insects are in this country. I have not yet seen them in
any numbers, or the effects of their ravages, but I am told they
sometimes actually stop the railway-trains. The incredible number of
bed-bugs in this country is another curious fact. I sleep so soundly
that they do not disturb me. They infest every house at the post, and
they are also numerous in the city, the fences between here and there
being painted in many places, ‘Go to Smith’s for the great bed-bug
buster.’” He became a favorite in the refined society of Omaha, at that
time on the confines of civilization, but appearing to him like a bit of
New York city cut off and set down in the wilderness, where, only a few
years before, the buffalo ranged in his native freedom. During his
residence at Omaha, young Lockwood was on the most friendly terms with
all his fellow-officers, with one exception. After giving his father a
very manly account of that trouble, he writes a paragraph about himself
in these words: “With regard to myself, I find this army-life about what
I expected. It has its pleasures and its crosses. I should prefer the
cavalry to the infantry, and am sorry I did not apply for that arm of
the service. I should like to remain in the army two or three years
longer, I think, and yet, with a good opening, might do better in civil
life. Promotion is very slow, and the accumulation of anything is not
easy. These, of course, are rude impressions and but half formed, but,
as you ask for impressions, I feel bound to give them just as they are.
I have not been in the army long enough to rise, nor have I had the
opportunity to gain any particular reputation, but suppose mine is as
good as the average—that is, I think I have displayed as much aptitude
for my profession as is generally exhibited by men of average ability,
for of such I regard myself—perhaps below the average. I hope this
peroration will answer your inquiries, and prove satisfactory in that
respect. Excuse the necessary egotism. I will thankfully receive any
advice or corrections which the reading of this, or your acquaintance
with my characteristics, may suggest. I feel as though I had written a
lot of foolishness; if you think so, please excuse.”

To the writer of this personal history, it seems as if such sentiments
as the above could come only from a young man endowed with the highest
instincts of ambition, honor, and true manhood, and can not but be
considered, with others of like character, as a suitable passport into
the land of Odin and the glories of Valhalla.

During his stay at Omaha, Lieutenant Lockwood was detailed by General
Ord, the commanding officer, to visit those counties of Nebraska where
grasshoppers had destroyed the crops, for the purpose of determining to
whom contributions which had been sent to the general should be given.
In this journey of several hundred miles, made in the coldest weather,
he visited the several county towns, met the citizens, and afterward
laid before the general such testimony as to the destitute, that the
bounty was distributed to the satisfaction of all. While on this duty,
he traveled ninety miles in twenty-four hours. The county people with
whom he conducted business, he designated as “Grasshoppers.” He greatly
enjoyed the prairie scenery through which he passed, especially the
valley of the Blue.

On the approach of Christmas at Omaha, our young friend had an attack of
chills and fever, which sent him to his bed. After deploring that he
could not perform his duties on the pending court-martial, he gives us
this holiday information: “Yesterday was Christmas, and I am glad that
the day comes but once a year. With a large party I was occupied until
late in the afternoon making the rounds of the many houses here at the
post. In the evening, I ate a fine dinner at General Ord’s, and on top
of that, danced in the parlor until eleven or twelve o’clock, and, as a
consequence, am coming on as officer of the guard to-day with a most
gorgeous headache. So much for Christmas. I have received two or three
presents, but have made none myself, from want of funds. I just now
heard a tremendous crash, and, on going out, found a fine lunch, sent by
Mrs. Ord, scattered on the ground, and in the midst of the _débris_ of
broken glass and china, the unfortunate bearer, who had slipped and
fallen on the ice in front of the door. I was not particularly sorry on
my own account, as I could not have eaten the good things ‘anyhow.’ Upon
the whole, Christmas has passed away as it usually does, pleasantly,
though at the expense of many unfortunate turkeys. I am sorry I could
not send home any presents, my pecuniary affairs being in a straitened
condition. I should like very much to be at home about this time. I
often wish I could hear Lidie and Anna sing, although I suppose I would
find the girls, including Julia and Mary, much changed.”

Remembering young Lockwood’s remarks about whisky-drinking in New York,
the following statement is worth quoting: “Most of the ladies at the
post received visitors on New-Year’s-day, either singly or in groups.
One marked feature of the day was the general absence of liquor, its
place being supplied by coffee, chocolate, and other refreshments of a
more solid and less stimulating character. I noticed the same thing in
town, or rather that at those places where I saw liquor, the ladies were
less urgent than is usually the case in pressing it upon the gentlemen.
However, there is less drinking at this post than at any other I have
seen, as large as it is. Although, with few exceptions, all drink here,
it is done quietly at home and without excess.”

As our young friend had narrowly escaped with his life from drowning at
Annapolis, so did he from the pranks of an unruly horse at the Omaha
Barracks. He was about mounting the horse for a ride, when the animal
started on the run before he could get into the saddle, when he was
thrown forward upon his head. The trouble was owing to a defect in the
bridle. In accounting for his escape, he remarked that his thick head
was what saved his life. True to his native pluck, he tackled the same
horse a number of times afterward, until the animal—a special
favorite—was subdued.

In the month of June, 1875, it would seem as if something like
homesickness was weighing down his spirits, for he then began to write
about employment in civil life. Not that he disliked the army, but he
longed for some business that would enable him to make a little money.
He thought he could supply a sufficient amount of energy to prosecute a
commercial venture. He felt that there was a great difference between
the roads that lead to wealth and to military glory. If his father
should chance to see an opening that might give him a fortune in a few
days at the expense of a few hundred dollars or some hard work, he
wanted to be promptly notified. He broached these business ideas at that
time merely for the sake of having a subject for discussion when
permitted to visit his home.

The life at the Omaha garrison, during the summer of 1875, was
comfortable but monotonous. The faithfulness with which the young
officer corresponded with his parents is eminently characteristic of a
dutiful son. When not writing about his surroundings and daily duties,
or sketching the character of his associates, he ventured to discuss
business matters with his father, frequently volunteering a bit of
advice. He often alluded to the Annapolis farm and to people and events
connected with Georgetown, now a part of Washington City, where he
expected the family to remain permanently. On every subject discussed,
he manifested a clear head, and enlivened his more serious talk with an
occasional joke, for which he seemed to have a fondness. In expressing
his opinions on men and things, it seemed impossible for him to hesitate
or equivocate; he always went directly to the point, and, though
charitable, he could not refrain from looking out for the demands of
justice, as, for example, when alluding to the death of a man who had
been untrue to himself and friends, he said “to die was about the best
thing he could do.” As to his jokes, they were not confined to his
private letters, as will be shown by one of them practiced upon the post
trader during a dull period in the garrison. The trader in question, a
young fellow, had removed the balls from the pistol of one of his
clerks, with the intention of playing a ghostly trick upon him that
night. He told Lockwood and another friend of his intention, and they
determined to turn the tables upon the trader. They notified the clerk,
and at midnight the amateur ghost rose from his bed, enveloped himself
in a white sheet, and stole softly into the room of the _unsuspecting_
clerk. Just then an improvised noise was made outside the door, when the
clerk seemingly awoke with an exclamation of terror at seeing the ghost.
The report of the pistol was duly followed by the return of the ball
held in hand, _à la ghost_, but immediately after, the poor ghost found
himself completely drenched with a bucket of water, which had been
coolly set aside for that purpose. At this unexpected turn of affairs,
the trader fled in the greatest consternation, leaving his “trade-mark”
behind, and, as he passed out of the door, received a second pail of
water from one of his ghostly companions. The result was that it took a
long time for him to dry his saturated skin, and a much longer for his
title of Mr. Ghost to be lost by the garrison boys. Not long after the
above incident, this personage found that there was not “the ghost of a
chance” of his continuing in business, as he became insolvent and had to
retire. It would appear that while many of these military merchants on
the frontiers have a chance to make fortunes, those who are located near
a city like Omaha find it difficult to make both ends meet in their
business affairs.

On reading the proceedings of Congress during the winter of 1875, he
writes to his father as follows: “Congress seems to be looking around
for some scape-goat on which to pile the odium of the millions
legislated away, and, as usual, pitches on the army. It seems to be the
opinion here, however, that no reduction will take place this winter. If
Congressmen consulted occasionally others than the staff-officers living
in Washington with regard to military affairs, they might find out the
true whereabout of the tremendous rat-hole which swallows up annually
the sum of thirty-four millions of dollars. It does not go to support
the army proper, but to support that enormous, overgrown, expensive
adjunct of the army, the staff, which, created merely for the
administration of the _army_, now masters that which it was intended to
subserve, and has become superior to it in rank and influence, and in
everything that rank and influence can bring. But Congress seems to be
blind to the fact that expenditures are credited to the army, under the
army appropriation bill, which have no legitimate connection with it,
and which would still be required if no army existed. Why is it that the
army is the perpetual foot-ball of these demagogues? Is it thus, at
every session, to be bantered about by those who do not understand the
requirements of the country in this respect? Is not the causing of this
periodical uncertainty respecting his fate the most pernicious thing
that Congress can do to an officer? O consistency, thou art a jewel! How
is it that the navy and other branches of the public service are not
subject to this constant tinkering? But I am not in Congress, and had
better subside.” The assertions here made can not be controverted, and,
coming from a young man who had but recently passed his majority, prove
him to be the possessor of very substantial abilities. He also expressed
decided opinions in regard to various noted officials charged with
improper conduct in Washington at the time alluded to, all of which have
been sustained by subsequent developments.

Remembering what he said about the drinking customs of Omaha, on
New-Year’s-day, 1875, it is pleasant to have him record the fact, on the
2d of January, 1876, that “the most noticeable feature during the
previous day, in society, was the entire absence, at most houses, of any
intoxicating liquors, and that he did not see a case of drunkenness
during the entire day—a thing very rare even in the cities of the East.”
On a subsequent occasion, he mentions the fact that, when one of his
sergeants had been drinking to excess, he put him in arrest, but
released him the next day, after warning him of the consequences of a
repetition of the offense, and “preaching him a sermon on the evils of
intoxication, moral, mental, and physical.” On one occasion, when his
father had asked how he spent his leisure time in the barracks, he
replied that he read, so as to combine pleasure with profit, played on
his flute, and studied the art of short-hand, which had long been a
hobby with him, and was to be in the future an important accomplishment.
In an effort to read Draper’s “Intellectual Development of Europe,” he
could only manage about one half of the work, and to counteract its
dullness resorted to a novel, “The Wandering Jew.” As he was frequently
called upon to act as recorder of the military court, he found his
knowledge of stenography very useful and very much of a relaxation, and,
on receiving a letter from one of his sisters which was good but not
very plainly written, he said that he had been able to make it out by
means of his skill in shorthand writing. As to his studies, he had
formed a regular plan for prosecuting them, but was constantly
interrupted by extra official duties. Among other things, he devoted
himself to the German language, and subsequently to French, and attained
considerable proficiency. An idea of his habits of industry may be
gathered from what he wrote to his father, when the General was placed
on the retired list of the navy: “So you are retired this month. You
ought to open an office, or do something to occupy your mind. Every one
needs something in the way of business or duty. You will soon get tired
of reading continuously.” On the approach of spring, and with the
expectation of obtaining a leave of absence during the coming summer, he
resumed a discussion with his father about leaving the army for civil
employment. He had entered it well posted in regard to its
disadvantages, and chiefly for the sake of having something to do. He
had now become more deeply impressed than before that promotion was so
slow, that his prospects of increased rank and pay offered no
inducements to any young man of energy and industry, qualities which he
certainly possessed. He was not then ready for decisive action, but he
was determined to support himself, and would, therefore, be on the
lookout for advantageous prospects in some other line of employment. In
one of his letters, after commenting upon the school which two of his
sisters were attending, he gives us this bit of experience: “I am a
school-teacher myself; my pupils, the non-commissioned officers of the
company. They waste the midnight oil, however, only in _boning_ the
tactics. I go down and dilate and expatiate very profoundly on the
reasons and logic of this and that. This is a pleasant school to have;
the authority and influence of the officer have their full weight in the
ordinary school-room as elsewhere in the army.” In May, 1876, after
giving an account of a proposed demonstration, under General Crook,
against the Indians on the Yellowstone, he thus relieves his mind:
“Would that I belonged to the cavalry! I like motion, action, and
variety. To be sure, I would rather be here (in Omaha) than where the
other companies are, but still would rather be in the field than here.”
In June, 1876, the monotony of his life was relieved by an order to take
some convicts to the State prison near Fort Leavenworth, which he
described as the largest post in the country, containing the post
proper, the department headquarters, and the military prison. The State
prison is about six miles from the town. “Here,” he writes, “are sent
all the enlisted men who are dishonorably discharged, convicted of
theft, or other not purely military offenses. The inclosure is an
immense yard, surrounded by a high stone wall—the building, which is on
one side, having an appearance somewhat like the Smithsonian
Institution. In the inclosure are various other buildings, each one used
as a workshop for some trade, almost all the common trades being
represented. The prisoners, numbering about five hundred, are together
in the daytime, but not at night, and are not allowed to talk with each
other. It was from this prison that the best features of the new
military prison were obtained, the board of officers on the management
of the prison at Fort Leavenworth having decided it to be the best one
to imitate.”

In the autumn of 1876, when he was granted a leave of absence to visit
his parents, they found him in personal appearance wonderfully improved
and developed, the boy of 1873 having become a handsome and accomplished
gentleman. He was not slow, as may be supposed, in making his way to
Philadelphia to visit the Centennial Exposition, which he greatly
enjoyed.




                                  IV.
                          ARMY-LIFE IN KANSAS.


During Lieutenant Lockwood’s absence on leave, his regiment was
transferred to Fort Leavenworth, and there we find him early in 1877,
and for about two years thereafter. Of course, the garrison life of an
officer, in times of peace, is somewhat monotonous; but the letters
which the lieutenant wrote from this station contain some passages which
are interesting and illustrate his character, as will be seen in the
following pages. Here it should be stated that, during his sojourn at
Fort Leavenworth, he made many pleasant acquaintances, which ripened
into friendship; among them being the widow of an officer, with whom he
boarded for some time, and whose friendship he particularly valued.

At a time when there was quite a rage at the garrison for private
theatricals, one of the superior officers took the liberty, without
previous consultation, of putting Lockwood on the list of performers,
whereupon he declined the honor, as he thought Nature never intended him
for a star. In speaking of a little difficulty between two of his
friends, he manifests his love of fun by stating that one of them had
denied the allegation and defied the alligator. When commenting upon
some disagreeable March weather, he said, “I don’t think the ground-hog
has seen his shadow, and hence the latter part of the month ought to be
pleasant.” After a remark on the proficiency he was making in the study
of French, he quietly continues, “There are many here who speak it ‘_à
l’Américaine_,’ as if they thought that ‘the chief end of man.’”

As if never satisfied with his acquirements, he writes in one of his
letters as follows: “My latest hobby is telegraphing. The signal officer
of the department has loaned me a small battery and an instrument. We
have put up the wires and are progressing well. Telegraphy, like
phonography, is easy to transmit after some little practice; but it is
difficult to recognize the sounds as they come over the wire, and it
requires as much practice as it does to recognize the phonographic
characters. I have the instrument on the table before me, and can not
fail to gain some proficiency at any rate.”

In July, 1877, when the strikers and rioters were making trouble in St.
Louis, Mo., Lieutenant Lockwood’s company and five others were ordered
to that city on duty. After their arrival, they waited in daily
expectation of mowing down the mob, but there was little fighting, as
the police and militia were found to be amply sufficient to subdue all
disturbance. He was greatly pleased with the city and military quarters
of St. Louis, and felt that he would like to remain there on permanent
duty. The feature which pleased him more than any other at St. Louis was
a private garden of about fifty acres, exquisitely planned, and
containing the rarest and most beautiful flowers and trees. The floral
display, there, he thought superior to that at the Centennial
Exposition. The owner, a bachelor named Shaw, nearly eighty years of
age, and a man of enormous wealth, paid out yearly in expenses
twenty-five thousand dollars. At the garden residence of this
millionaire, young Lockwood and a friend were hospitably entertained—a
wonderful contrast to the accommodations at a beer-saloon, near the
arsenal gate, where the army officers were obliged to take their meals
while in the city. Altogether the trip was pleasant, but too expensive
for men with limited means. On their return to Fort Leavenworth from the
Eden-like garden of St. Louis, they were informed of Indian troubles in
Montana, and startled by a rumor that they must soon be off upon a hunt
for Indians—illustrating the vicissitudes of army-life.

It was about this time that a specimen of American royalty visited Fort
Leavenworth with his daughter, to whom young Lockwood had an opportunity
of being polite. This was a great cattle-man from Texas, who was said to
have fenced in a grazing-farm of a million of acres, and who numbered
his cattle by tens of thousands. His name was King, and his title in all
the West was the “Cattle King of Texas.” The father and daughter were
much interested in an inspection of the fort, where they were hospitably
entertained. From that time onward for several months, the dullness of
garrison-life was only relieved by parties, dinners, and theatrical
amusements in the city, by the presence of an encampment of Indians near
the post, and by attendance at a grand reception and ball given at
Kansas City by the Governor of the State. The letters written by young
Lockwood during all this period are elaborate and full of interest to
his parents, but not enlivened with any incidents of public interest.
The garrison courts seem to have demanded very much of his attention,
because of his skill in taking down testimony by short-hand, and he was
frequently compelled to devote many of his sleeping hours to the duty of
writing out his notes.

While going from the fort into town one day, he witnessed what he called
an awful spectacle—three little boys in a state of intoxication. This
recalled the fate of one of his former companions in the East, who had
become a drunkard, and in a letter to his father he recorded the
following: “Liquor is certainly a terrible curse; one constantly sees
illustrations of this in the army. You rather startled me in a recent
letter by telling me you had taken the pledge. Had you departed from
your abstemious habits in this respect? was my first thought, but I was
at once relieved by seeing that your allusion was to something else. A
rule that I have had for a long time and seldom depart from, is not to
drink before sunset and never to do so in a saloon. It is rather
superfluous in me to have any such rules, as it is very seldom that I
have a desire to touch spirituous drinks, and then I partake only for
the sake of not appearing to be rude in social matters.”

On one occasion, after describing a splendid dinner which he had
attended, he branches off upon his own experiences in that line, stating
that he had been caterer for the “Bachelors’ Club” during the current
month, and playing housekeeper for the first time in his life. He was
striving to feed the mess well and to reduce expenses, the individual
assessments amounting to twenty-four dollars.

“We have a good deal of fun,” he says, “at the mess; among other ways,
by a resolution of the officers that I shall keep a record of the puns,
jokes, profane expressions, etc. Any one indulging in these is put back
or set forward on a regular motion and vote by the members, and any one
getting a record of fifteen has to send to the store for a supply of
cigars. One of the mess, having the bad habit of saying, ‘O Lord!’ and
‘Damn it!’ when excited, gets a great many bad marks, and is made
unhappy. The standard of wit being very high, one seldom ‘goes ahead.’”

In May, 1878, when it was doubtful what Congress would do about reducing
the army, and Lieutenant Lockwood thought that he might decide to leave
the service, he discussed with his father the question of future
employment. He thought favorably of a position in some telegraph
company, thereby proving that, in all his studies and leisurely
occupations, he was practical, and no visionary. Another idea that he
had was that he might play Cincinnatus, and again go upon the farm. He
also thought of a position in connection with the Signal Service as one
that would suit him should he, from any cause, be compelled to leave the
army; and this suggestion, taken in connection with his subsequent
career, is notable. He went so far, indeed, as to ask his father about
the practicability of securing such a position in that corps, and
desired especially to know all about the necessary qualifications.

On one occasion, after alluding to the possibility of his being
transferred for duty to some other place, he says that it might be a
good thing for him, as he could not remain at Leavenworth always, and
yet he dreaded to be sent to some “far-distant and isolated post.” When
he wrote those words, how little did he imagine that he would eventually
close his earthly career in a land of supreme desolation within the
Arctic Circle!

Subsequently—July, 1878—he resumed with special earnestness the
consideration of being detailed for duty in the Signal Service, and,
with his father’s approbation, made the proper application. He thought
the proposed transfer would be of benefit to him in many ways, and if he
failed to make it so, he would very quickly be ordered back to his
regiment.

In September he was ordered to St. Louis for the purpose of conducting
some recruits westward, and for a short time it was uncertain whether he
would have to go to Texas or the Territory of Wyoming, whereby were
shown the uncertainties which attend life in the army. He took the
recruits to Fort Laramie, and, on his way, was in danger of being
embroiled with the Cheyenne Indians under Sitting Bull, but returned in
safety, by way of his old camp at Omaha, to his company at Fort
Leavenworth. During another trip, which he soon after took with his
company, he saw in western Kansas many Russian immigrants. They were
poor, and had settled at great distances along the streams to be near
water, not always easily found in these regions. They knew nothing of
the recent outbreak of the Indians, and, indeed, many of them had never
seen an Indian. The lieutenant also stumbled upon a colony of Swedes,
and at one place saw three women, whose husbands had been killed by the
Indians, and who were weeping bitterly in their distress. While his
company was on the march he generally kept at the head of the column,
thereby receiving the title of Pedestrian of the Command. Much of the
country over which they traveled was monotonous in the extreme—wide
stretches of prairie reaching to the far horizon. Antelopes and
Jack-rabbits were frequently seen, and sometimes were fired at without
success. But, to his mind, the most wonderful features about the country
were the countless tracks and bones of the buffalo, while not a living
animal was seen. One of his guides informed him that in former times he
had killed three hundred in a single day, so that it was no wonder that
they were now extinct.

In a letter to one of his sisters, in October, he speaks of his return
from this chase after Cheyenne Indians, and then goes on to mention some
amusing incidents that had occurred at the post, and gives her this bit
of artistic advice: “I hope you will profit by your talent for painting,
_not bury it in the ground, like the foolish steward_. Painting is a
great and very popular accomplishment; there is none perhaps more so.”
No matter what happened in or about the garrison, he seemed always ready
with his common-sense opinions referring to passing events. For example,
after alluding to the burning of a stable, with thirteen mules, when
some of them that had been released ran into the fire from fright, he
thus proceeds: “I was talking ‘over the wire’ with one of the men on our
telegraph line, and what he said is no doubt true, and shows the
short-sightedness of the Government. He said that he and many of the
other soldiers had damaged or lost their clothes, and that if soldiers
were reimbursed for their losses on such occasions, they would work with
much more _vim_ and energy, and that he heard one man say that he would
not lose his new pantaloons for all the mules in the stable. Of course,
in the case of a private house on fire, I believe the enlisted men would
risk everything; but in cases of this kind, where Government property
only is concerned, this feeling has its existence. There is, too, some
reason for this feeling; for, no matter how hard a soldier or officer
may work at a fire to save public property, the Government will not
reward him even by the restitution of his clothes. Nothing short of an
act of Congress would be authority for such an issue.”

That the heart of this young man was as pure as his mind was bright, may
be seen by reading the following remarks concerning the death of a
little niece: “I learn with deep regret the death of poor little Agnes,
and sympathize heartily with Lidie and her husband in their affliction,
the depth of which none but a parent can know. It should be a
consolation, however, that the disease carried the little one away in
all the innocence of childhood, before her mother’s love had been
intensified with years, and her own intelligence had taught her to love
and cling to life. The sad news reached me on the day of the funeral of
the little daughter of a brother lieutenant. The little baby seemed very
amiable in life, and after death lost none of her sweetness. I sat up
with the remains during the night before the funeral.” Alas! when this
noble-hearted young man gave up his own life, his only night-watchers
were the stars and the icy mountains of the far-distant North!

In December, 1878, the Twenty-third Regiment received orders for service
in the Indian Territory, and a few weeks afterward entered upon its line
of march. In the mean time, the lieutenant made himself useful in
performing the duties of an engineer for the sanitary benefit of the
Leavenworth garrison. After some appropriate studying, he soon got the
knack of running the levels and measuring angles with the theodolite. He
found these new duties interesting, preferring the field-work to the
making of the necessary profiles and other drawings, involving
measurements to the ¹/₁₀₀₀ of an inch—rather a confining employment.




                                   V.
              ARMY-LIFE IN INDIAN TERRITORY AND COLORADO.


From the spring of 1879 until the winter of 1881, Lieutenant Lockwood
spent a part of his time in the Indian Territory, but chiefly in the
State of Colorado. The first duty of his company was to establish a
cantonment on the Canadian River. On their way thither, they made a halt
at Fort Supply, where the country was sparsely settled, and where the
rolling prairies seemed desolate and interminable. Those of his regiment
who had been ordered to Supply, he found in miserable quarters—log-huts
covered inside with canvas—old, cold, and forlorn in appearance inside
and out, and yet the canvas walls thus used and useless were furnished
at a cost of hundreds of dollars. After leaving that place for the
Canadian River, he was made the engineer officer, and, with a view of
making a map of the route and surrounding country, devoted his time to
the science of topography, being rewarded by the hearty approbation of
the officer in command.

He had counted upon having some good hunting on this route for turkeys
and other game, but was disappointed, owing to the fact, as was
supposed, that several hundred Indians had passed through the country
some weeks before and had gobbled up everything, including a host of
_gobblers_. On reaching their destination, the company went into camp
under a bluff on the Canadian River, where they were to remain until
buildings could be erected in the immediate vicinity. At the conclusion
of his first letter written home from this camp, he says, “I am lying at
full length on a buffalo-robe with my paper on ‘Daniel Deronda,’ and the
position is not comfortable.”

In June, Lieutenant Lockwood was sent with a small party to Post Reno,
where troubles were apprehended with the Indians. It was not necessary
to do any fighting there, however, for the reason that the chief
inhabitants of the region were rattlesnakes, tarantulas, and
prairie-dogs, and the Indians in the vicinity did not seem to be in a
blood-thirsty mood. Returning to the cantonment on the Canadian River,
he was depressed by the discomforts of the place—no society and many
extra duties—but he, nevertheless, found time and inclination to study
the Spanish language, as if determined not to leave a stone unturned in
his efforts to make himself useful, or ready for any emergency. After
confessing his fondness for social intercourse, he writes: “At times I
get the _ennui_ and _blues_ very much. Still I try to preserve a
philosophic mind, and when the dark side of the picture presents itself,
I take a different stand-point, and thus force myself to see, by
contrast, the bright side. I find, and ever have found, that the more
occupied I am, the better contented I feel.”

In April, 1880, he went upon a kind of exploring expedition, riding in
ten days a distance of nearly three hundred miles, and on returning was
glad enough to have a little rest in his camp. But, before he could fall
into any idle habits, he was ordered westward, with his command, on
still more arduous duties. In a letter from a camp near Saguache, on the
borders of Colorado, he sent home the following account of what he had
seen and experienced: “We left Fort Garland on the 17th of May, and have
since been traveling across ‘San Luis Park,’ the ‘Valley of the Gods.’
This is a vast level plain in southern Colorado, surrounded on all sides
by high, snow-capped mountains, which always seem within a few hours’
travel, and yet are miles and miles away. When one considers that Blanco
Peak is over fourteen thousand feet above the sea-level, one does not
wonder that it is very plainly seen from where I am now writing. This
Paradise of the Gods is some two hundred miles long by over sixty
across, and is a veritable desert. I have met nothing like it outside of
Arizona. The vegetation consists of greasewood and sage-brush—sometimes
not even this; the irrigation-ditches that one meets near the few
streams seem hardly able to produce a feeble, stunted grass. For miles
and miles, all is pulverized dust, which, blown by the winds in blinding
clouds, covers everything like the ashes of a volcano. Night before last
one of these _pleasant_ zephyrs blew down several of the tents, and
filled the air so thickly with dust, that several of the command, who
had their hats blown off, were unable to find or recover them. They say
it sometimes rains here, but I very much doubt it. The few ranches we
have encountered are on streams descending from the mountains, which
sink in the plain after running a short distance; and bordering them are
the squalid adobe houses, the only habitations in the country.

“Improbable as it may seem, the owners say that they raise potatoes,
etc. Surely these mountains should be of gold and silver to compensate
for the sterility of the soil.” The prospect did not make Lockwood
hilarious, and he frankly said that he was tired of army-life, and that
eating almost nothing but bacon, and going without any comforts caused
him to sigh for a return to the old Annapolis farm. He had not the
ambition to enjoy the glory of army-life in such a wilderness. It might,
indeed, give one a competency, but it was a gold-mine in Arizona that
had recently given a fortune of fifty thousand dollars to one of the
officers of his regiment. After a short stay at Garland and Alamosa, and
catching a glimpse of the Del Norte, the command reached the Cochetapa
Pass, near Los Pinos and the summit of the Rocky Mountains; and now the
lieutenant began to experience a kind of mountain-fever, which he called
a weird condition of the system. He was troubled with the shortness of
breath usual at great altitudes. The six hundred mules drawing the train
of one hundred wagons had great difficulty in passing through what he
called the terrible cañons. Early in June, 1880, he reached the
Uncompahgre River, where the command encamped. Hardly had he obtained
any relaxation before an order came from Fort Leavenworth, detailing a
general court and making him the judge advocate, thereby proving that
there was not much rest for an officer of recognized ability. While
anxious to make money, he did not, while among the mountains, follow the
example of certain fellow-officers, who devoted some attention to mining
speculations, their mode of operating being as follows: “For example,
they secure the services of a competent man, provide him with food,
etc., and send him out to prospect. Those in the Nineteenth have
received a very flattering letter from their man, who has struck a very
rich vein, _according to his account_. But this and all similar ventures
are mere chance. Money, to the amount of twenty-five or fifty dollars,
seems little to invest in enterprises that may pay thousands; but these
investments count up and are not pleasant to consider when all ends in
failure. One of the officers has invested not less than thirty-three
hundred dollars in this mine-hunting business. He goes it alone, and has
all the enthusiasm of an old miner.” Not caring to waste his money in
speculations of this sort, he improved his leisure in exploring the
scenery of the region, especially some cañons where the walls were
several thousand feet high, and also a stream called Cow Creek, where he
had some superb fishing and caught the largest trout he had ever seen,
while his companions killed a number of deer. Among the scenes in which
he was especially interested was a hot spring which measured thirty feet
across, a waterfall two hundred feet high, and a small mining hamlet
nestled in a pocket of the mountains, and where, funny to relate, he and
his companions were suspected to be tramps or horse-thieves. Returning
to his regular cantonment on the Uncompahgre, he was informed of a
pending trouble with the Ute Indians, when, according to his habit, he
expressed this decided opinion: “If the sentimentalists on Indian
questions in the East could be brought out here and made to feel and
suffer the outrages which these savages inflict on isolated settlers,
there would not be so many to support the Interior Department in its
abominable prejudice in all questions of Whites _vs._ Indians.”

In one of his letters, written from a cantonment in Colorado, he
mentions with pain the temporary fall of one of his brother officers,
who, while playing a game of poker, was charged with dishonesty, thereby
pocketing a hundred dollars. The poor fellow had been placed in arrest
and was to have a trial. In speaking of his manner of killing time in
his Colorado camp, he alludes to the fact of having two setter dogs,
which he was training for use and his own amusement, and further says
that when not playing a game of billiards at the store near the camp, he
spent his time in reading, the books then occupying his attention being,
Tyler’s “Baconian Philosophy,” which he greatly admired; Swinton’s
“History of the Rebellion,” which he criticised with some severity; and
Green’s “Russian Campaign in Turkey,” which interested him greatly.




                                  VI.
                   PREPARING FOR THE ARCTIC REGIONS.


From this point, the story of Lieutenant Lockwood’s life will be chiefly
given from the records which he kept during his sojourn in the Arctic
regions. For reasons which the general reader will appreciate, all
merely technical and official remarks have been omitted, and only those
retained which are calculated to illustrate the personal character of
the man and officer, it being understood that his journals, illustrating
his merits and labors, will be fully set forth in the official history,
to be hereafter published, of the expedition with which he was so
honorably identified.

In 1880 it was proposed by an International Polar Commission, for the
purpose of elucidating in behalf of science the phenomena of the weather
and of the magnetic needle, that meteorological stations should be
established by various countries in different parts of the polar
regions. The Congress of the United States made an appropriation for
establishing a scientific colony at the two places designated for the
occupation of the Americans—viz., Point Barrow, in Alaska, and Lady
Franklin Bay, in Grinnell Land. These stations were to be occupied for
from one to three years. At the time the expedition was being organized
in Washington for the latter place, Lieutenant Lockwood was on a visit
to his parents in that city. Taking a special interest in the operations
of the Signal-Service Bureau, which had the business in charge, he
forthwith volunteered for the proposed expedition, and his services were
accepted by the Secretary of War. When the party for the Lady Franklin
Bay station was fully organized, it consisted of First-Lieutenant
Adolphus W. Greely, U. S. A., commander; Lieutenants F. F. Kislingbury
and James B. Lockwood, U. S. A., as assistants; and Dr. O. Pavy, as
surgeon and naturalist; with a force of twenty-two sergeants, corporals,
and privates, all connected with the army, and whose names are given as
follows: Edward Israel, Winfield S. Jewell, George W. Rice, David O.
Ralston, Hampden S. Gardiner, sergeants in the Signal Corps; William H.
Cross, sergeant in the general service; David L. Brainard and David
Linn, sergeants of cavalry; Nicholas Saler, corporal of infantry; Joseph
Ellison, corporal of infantry; Charles B. Henry, Maurice Connell, Jacob
<DW12>, Francis Long, William Whistler, Henry Biederbick, Julius R.
Fredericks, William A. Ellis, and Roderick R. Schneider, privates in
various branches of the army; and, finally, two Esquimaux, Jans Edwards
and Frederick Christiansen, of Greenland.

In view of the possibility that Lady Franklin Bay might become a
permanent station, all the preliminary arrangements were made as
complete as possible. A steamer called the Proteus was secured for
conveying the expedition to Lady Franklin Bay, and she was ordered to
await the arrival of the explorers at the port of St. John’s, in
Newfoundland. Lieutenant Lockwood sailed in a steamer from Baltimore
with the party and reached St. John’s late in June.

Here it may not be out of place to submit a few remarks on the utility
of these Arctic explorations, which are sometimes criticised by people
who, without due consideration, jump to hasty conclusions. In former
times their main object was to find open passages between the northern
regions of Europe, Asia, and America, and to settle the problem of the
north pole; and statistics show that when these expeditions have
confined their operations within reasonable limits, the mortality
attending them has been remarkably small—less than in ordinary
commercial voyages. Sir John Franklin went far beyond these limits, and
left no monuments by which he could be traced. De Long put his ship into
the polar ice with the design of moving with the polar drift. The Greely
Expedition was expected to be confined, and was confined, to the
well-known waters of Smith’s Sound. It could, therefore, be reached at
any time, and, if necessary, it could fall back upon a point accessible
at all times. All that was required to secure its safe return was _a
well-chosen base, and an absolute certainty that this base would be
maintained_. Unfortunately, neither requirement was fulfilled, and hence
nineteen men lost their lives. Sledge-journeys from established bases,
though fraught with great labor and discomfort, have never been attended
with serious loss of life. It is now about one thousand years since the
first Arctic voyage was made, and their aggregate usefulness can hardly
be questioned when we remember that they have developed fisheries that
have built up the commerce and navies of nations, and that the direct
return into the exchange of England has been far more than the cost to
her of all her Arctic explorations. The Polar Commission, already
alluded to, inaugurated a new policy in regard to Arctic explorations,
and one whose utility can not be questioned. It had its origin, in 1875,
in the mind of a German discoverer named Carl Weyprecht; and in the
opinion of many of the leading minds of the world, the meteorological
observations inaugurated by him have done much, and will do much more,
to rectify errors in the polar problem and bring to light information
about the ice zones, which will give the observers a prominent position
in scientific history. According to Professor Joseph Henry, the problems
connected with physical geography and science, which are yet unsolved,
are the determination of the figure and of the magnetism of the earth,
complete knowledge of the tides of the ocean, the winds of the globe,
and the influence of extreme cold on animal and vegetable life. Surely
the men who voluntarily toil and suffer in their efforts to obtain the
needed light on all these subjects, are quite as worthily employed as
those who struggle for riches or political fame. In the Professor’s
opinion, all the branches of science above mentioned are indirectly
connected with the well-being of man, and tend not only to enlarge his
sphere of mental activity, but to promote the application of science to
the arts of life. A French writer, after applauding the plans of the
Polar Commission, concludes his remarks as follows: “The larger number
of the civilized nations are striving by scientific means to wrest the
mysterious secrets of the deep from the hidden recesses of the North.”
In 1884 the number of nations that had entered heartily into the project
was thirteen; fifteen polar stations, and over forty auxiliary stations,
had already been established. That the reader may fully understand the
operations and exploits which are to be chronicled in the subsequent
pages of this volume, it may be well to submit the subjoined extract
from the official report of General W. B. Hazen, Chief of the United
States Signal Service, for the year 1881: “Owing to the very mobile
nature of the atmosphere, the changes taking place on one portion of the
globe, especially in the Arctic zone, quickly affect regions very
distant therefrom. The study of the weather in Europe and America can
not be successfully prosecuted without a daily map of the whole northern
hemisphere, and the great blank space of the Arctic region upon our
simultaneous international chart has long been a subject of regret to
meteorologists. The general object is to accomplish, by observations
made in concert at numerous stations, such additions to our knowledge as
can not be acquired by isolated or desultory traveling parties. No
special attempt will be made at geographical exploration, and neither
expedition is in any sense expected to reach the north pole. The single
object is to elucidate the phenomena of the weather and of the magnetic
needle as they occur in America and Europe, by means of observations
taken in the region where the most remarkable disturbances seem to have
their origin.”

While the foregoing were to be considered as the primary considerations,
it was expressly stated in the official instructions, that sledging
parties, generally, should work in the interests of exploration and
discovery, and should be conducted with all possible care and fidelity.
Careful attention was also to be given to the collection of specimens of
the animal, mineral, and vegetable kingdoms. It will be seen that all
that was accomplished by Lieutenant Lockwood was instigated by the
mandate connected with the use of the sledge.

It thus appears that the Greely expedition was not only intended to
accomplish a good work, but that in all human probability the same might
have been accomplished without serious loss of life. That there was a
deplorable loss of life, we can only lament, leaving for others to point
out the causes of the disaster which befell the expedition.




                                  VII.
                FROM NEWFOUNDLAND TO LADY FRANKLIN BAY.


All things being ready, the Greely Expedition left St. John’s,
Newfoundland, for Lady Franklin Bay, on Thursday, July 7, 1881, in the
steamer Proteus, Captain Pike. She was a barkentine, measuring two
hundred and fifty feet in length, and having a burden of six hundred
tons. Built in Scotland for the whaling and sealing service, she had
already made several successful voyages within the Arctic Circle and on
the Labrador coast. The departure of the ship elicited no demonstration
from the people on the dock, excepting a few cheers from some
warm-hearted fishermen. Whether the good people of Newfoundland were
disgusted because they could not sell any more supplies at extravagant
prices, or were displeased with the Yankee explorers for presuming to
compete with Englishmen in the icy North, are questions not to be easily
solved.

During his stay in St. John’s, Lieutenant Lockwood wrote a letter to his
mother, in which he gave the following account of the city:

“St. John’s is a queer and forlorn old place; everything is antiquated,
slow, and behind the times in every respect. The few hotels are more
like third-class boarding-houses; a livery-stable is not to be found in
this city of thirty thousand. This condition of affairs is said to be
due to the religion of the place, which is Roman Catholic. It is charged
that ignorance and poverty are what this church most thrives on, and it
is certainly a thriving church here. The other day the shops were all
closed, and the place assumed the appearance of Sunday—it was a holy day
for their patron saints, Peter and Paul. Only two classes here—the poor
and the rich—and everything accords with the former class. Crooked
streets and mean, forlorn, dirty houses everywhere. The only respectable
public buildings are the Catholic churches and the convents.”

With the wind favorable, the sea calm, the sky clear, and all in good
spirits, away went the vessel on her voyage to the North. A
steam-launch, called the Lady Greely, rested securely on the main deck.
It was arranged that the sergeants of the expedition should sleep in the
cabin, eating at the second table, and the rest of the men live forward;
and, though somewhat crowded, it was hoped they would all be
comfortable. During the first twenty-four hours, two hundred miles were
made. Lieutenant Greely and most of the men were sea-sick. At sunset on
the second day out, the first iceberg was seen, and attracted the
special attention of the land-lubbers. On the 9th, gales from the
northwest set in, and the sick men became worse—the thermometer marking
forty degrees, the air being damp and uncomfortable. The wind moderated
in the evening, but left the sea very rough, so that the steam-launch
had to be secured in her cradle by braces. Although then in the track of
the St. Lawrence trade, not a single vessel was seen, suggesting the
idea that business was not flourishing. As to Lieutenant Lockwood, he
was in good spirits, and amused himself by reading Kennan’s interesting
book on Siberian life. On the following day the sea went down, and the
sick men came up from their berths and were able to resume their places
at the table, Lockwood and Kislingbury being the only ones who had
escaped sea-sickness. When the former had finished Kennan’s book, he
took up Barrow’s “Voyage within the Arctic Circle,” reading it in the
presence of several icebergs, which appeared as if they intended to
welcome the band of Yankee adventurers to their inhospitable domain.

On the morning of the 11th, notwithstanding the promise of fine summer
weather, the sky became overcast, and at noon the captain, assisted by
the volunteers, including Lockwood, Israel, and Gardiner, could hardly
succeed in getting observations, and though they reckoned the latitude
at 58°, it was not reliable. Rain, attended with high winds or gales,
succeeded, the sufferers from sea-sickness finding refuge in their
berths. Ellis, one of the sergeants, suffered more than the others,
having refused all food since leaving port. They could give him no aid
save a little wine and beef-tea. The cold, cheerless weather depressed
the spirits of all, but they hoped to get used to it. The days were
sensibly growing longer, beginning at 1.45 A. M. and closing at 10 P. M.
They now remarked the absence of icebergs and ice-floes, and wondered
whether this meant that the previous winter in the north had been so
mild that but little ice had formed, or that the spring had been so
backward that but little had become detached and drifted southward. They
had learned at St. John’s that the late winter had been the mildest ever
known there. At the close of the 11th, no land was in sight, and they
had made seven hundred miles. The steward informed Lockwood that the men
were growling about their food, which was the same as that received in
the cabin. He thought this a bad sign for Arctic explorers, but tried to
make matters more satisfactory.

The next day was disagreeable, a cold rain falling; and though a strong
head-wind was blowing, the sea was smooth, betokening land or ice, it
was supposed. Accordingly, at 9 P. M., they were aroused by the cry of
“ice ahead,” and, sure enough, there was seen, extending over 90° of the
horizon, the white line indicating an ice-floe. Coming up to the ice,
they found it to consist of detached pieces flowing southward. Some of
these assumed the most fantastic shapes—dogs, seals, and other animals,
and even houses and castles, readily presenting themselves to the
imagination. One piece looked like an old ruin. The pillars, dome, and
vaulted roof, all were there; indeed, the effect was perfect. Again,
other pieces presented varieties of color most beautiful and remarkable.
Generally, the lower parts being dark blue, were surmounted by a stratum
of pure white, resembling snow, but really the purest ice. They were two
hours in getting through this floe. Although daylight was continuous,
they could not, because of fogs, distinguish the hours of sunrise or
sunset.

On the following day the weather was still cloudy, and another ice-floe
detained them two hours. They also saw many isolated pieces and large
icebergs in the distance. This ice, it was said, came from the east
coast of Greenland with a current which, flowing around Cape Farewell,
passes up the west coast half way to Disco. It still proved interesting
to the voyagers by reason of its fantastic shapes and diversified
colors—white, blue, and green. It rose a few feet above the water-line,
and the submerged portion of the floe  the water a most beautiful
green. Seals were then seen for the first time, basking in the sun on
the ice. Judging from the increased seas, they expected no more
ice-floes in front. The temperature also indicated this, for it was
sensibly warmer. Lockwood, who seemed never to be idle, now finished
Barrow and took up Captain Nares’s “British Expedition of 1875-’76,”
reading, writing, and Bowditch occupying much of his time. The crow’s
nest was hoisted to the main-top on that day. This was a large barrel or
hogshead with peep-holes on the side and a trap beneath. This afforded
shelter for a man posted there who looked out for the ice and the best
way of getting through it.

On the 16th, fogs detained them and interfered with noon observations,
but, lifting at three o’clock, they sighted the Greenland coast on the
starboard bow, distant fifteen miles. The coast-line appeared
exceedingly rugged and broken, and the interior, mountainous with deep
ravines running very abruptly down to the sea. The mountain-tops were
covered with snow, but generally the sides were bare of snow except the
ravines, which seemed to be filled up entirely. This range of mountains
reminded Lockwood of the Uncompahgre chain in Colorado as seen from Los
Pinos Valley. They saw the usual number of gulls and a species of duck
called the sea-pigeon, also several whales blowing and spouting in the
distance, surrounded by flocks of small birds which seemed to feed on
their offal. Kislingbury and the steward tried rifles on these whales,
but without success. One whale being near by, with apparent design to
cross the track of the vessel, was met by the rifle-ball, but with no
other effect than to cause him to throw up his tail and dive below the
surface. The thermometer rose to 50° on that day, rendering the deck,
where all were assembled to view the prospect, quite comfortable. They
then first witnessed the sunset since leaving St. John’s, because of the
fogs and clouds that had constantly attended the voyage. The sun’s disk
seemed greatly flattened just as it disappeared at 10.20, and presented
much the appearance of a huge mushroom seen edgewise. Enough of twilight
remained at midnight to render the horizon visible.

On the 16th, they steamed cautiously through the fog, making but
fourteen knots between noon and 6 P. M. Then the high, bold bluffs
forming the southern coast of Disco Island loomed up in the distance
directly ahead. These bluffs are almost vertical and probably five
hundred feet high, and are desolate and barren in the extreme. Their
continuity is interrupted only by deep ravines, or cañons, which break
through at various angles to the sea. They there found themselves in the
midst of a hundred icebergs of every conceivable form and size, and in
color of the purest white, resembling in the distance huge mountains of
chalk. One of the sights that attracted special notice consisted of two
bergs connected by an immense arch high enough overhead for the ship to
sail beneath, reminding Lockwood of the Natural Bridge of Virginia. On
near approach it looked like marble and was quite as smooth. Some time
afterward, and when two miles away, a signal-gun was fired for a pilot.
This was followed by a rumbling noise, which caused the voyagers to look
back, when they were surprised to see this immense arch tumble over and
fall into the sea, throwing the spray a hundred feet into the air and
producing a commotion of the sea sensible two miles away, and soon after
followed by a noise like distant thunder. Most truly sublime were both
spectacle and catastrophe! Icebergs are regarded as very dangerous both
by the Esquimaux and by experienced Arctic travelers, and are given a
wide berth.

[Illustration: Lockwood, Natives, and Kyack at Disco, Greenland.]

Moving on at a low speed, the steamer was finally boarded by a white man
attended by an Esquimaux, the former introducing himself as Mr.
Gleichen, the Governor of Godhaven, Lively, or Disco, as the capital is
variously called. The vessel was soon twisted through the narrow opening
behind which the town lies, and the voyagers found themselves in the
snuggest and smallest harbor, for its depth of water, that any of the
party had ever seen. On one side were the high cliffs, barren and
rugged, and on the other the few habitations which constituted the
place, the only dwellings presenting an appearance of anything more than
squalid huts being those of the governor and of the inspector, a Mr.
Smith. Besides the dwellings, there were several warehouses and a
church, all of wood. The huts of the natives were to some extent of
wood, but strengthened and made warm by thick walls of sod reaching to
the eaves.

Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood immediately went ashore to visit the
inspector, whose house stood near the water and presented a neat
appearance. Within they found quite an air of comfort and refinement. A
piano, a small billiard-table, a well-filled book-case, carpets,
pictures, and many other evidences of civilization and even elegance
were there. They found the wife of the inspector very pleasant and
speaking English fluently, while her daughter and a governess, though
speaking English with difficulty, were well dressed and ladylike. After
taking wine with these hospitable ladies, the lieutenants left their
commander to continue the conversation and wandered forth to view the
town. Passing without mishap several cross-looking Esquimaux dogs, they
found themselves in what seemed a carpenter’s shop, on the large, bare
floor of which a dance was in progress. After playing spectators for
some time they indulged in a waltz with the prettiest girls in the room,
and were surprised and pleased to find how well they got along together.
Their round dances were found to be like many figures of the “German” as
danced in the United States. Kislingbury gave the natives an exhibition
of the Indian dance, and thus became a favorite with them.

The dress of the men consisted of a pair of sealskin pantaloons and a
woolen or checked shirt. That of the women was very peculiar—indeed,
unique. One of the girls, whose dress may be taken to illustrate all,
wore a pair of seal-skin pantalets bound at the hips by a red scarf and
terminating just above the knees, where they met the white canvas tops
of a pair of boots, or rather leggings. These reached to the calf, and
there met the tops of red seal-skin bootlets, into which they were
inserted. These leggings were starched and prettily fringed at the top,
and their color indicated the state as to matrimony of the wearer, white
being reserved for maidens, and colors for those that were married. This
distinction was afterward found to be general. The pantalets were plain,
except some red leather pieces sewed on in front by way of ornament. The
upper garment consisted of a pretty, fancy- cassock, or jacket,
extending barely to the hips, replaced in cold weather by the same of
seal-skin with a hood. The upper part of the jacket was concealed by a
necklace, or rather by several necklaces, sewed together flat, which
formed a collar covering the bosom and shoulders. The head was covered
by a kind of chaplet formed of fancy- cloth, and the hair was
done up in a queue, which extended upward and backward from the top of
the head, and was tied with  ribbon. The wrists and neck were
encircled with boas of dark- furs, which contrasted well with the
bright-<DW52> skin. The arms were bare to the short sleeves of the
jacket, and on the fingers were a number of rings. So much for the Disco
belles!

The dancing officers did not reach their ship until after midnight, and
soon after the sun rose, flooding all nature with his glorious light,
and seemingly affecting natives and strangers alike, for both were seen
standing around to admire and enjoy the benediction of nature.

Inspector Smith visited the steamer, dressed in a military coat with
brass buttons, and military cap with wide gold-lace band, but wearing
seal-skin trousers. The strangers soon found themselves surrounded by a
fleet of Esquimaux boats, called _kyacks_, resembling in form a cigar
cut in half lengthwise and turned up at both ends. The framework of wood
was covered with seal-skin with the hair removed. In the center was a
hole into which the occupant inserted the lower part of his body to the
hips, drawing up at the same time a cylindrical piece of seal-skin which
was attached to the rim of the hole. When the top of this is gathered up
and secured over his chest, the man and boat are practically one, and
both are water-proof under all circumstances. The upper surface of the
kyack is but an inch or two above the water when smooth, and when rough,
of course it is frequently submerged entirely. In this craft the kyacker
braves the billows of the open sea, and, provided with lance and harpoon
to slay his game, and bladder and rope to mark its flight when struck
and buoy up its body when killed, he attacks the seal, walrus, or even
the narwhal. In South Greenland, where there is more open water, the
kyackers become very expert, and, by means of their short, two-bladed
paddles, can easily right themselves when upset, or even perform a
complete revolution without changing position or posture.

On Sunday, the 17th, Lieutenant Lockwood called on the governor, and
then went into many of the houses of the place; he found the natives
polite and hospitable, living in clean, well-built huts, whose interior
presented nothing peculiar except that about one third of the floor was
raised a few feet, constituting a platform, which was used as the
sleeping-couch of the whole family by night, and by day as a place of
deposit for articles in daily use. The walls were adorned with rough
prints or illustrations from European and American papers. In one house
was seen a translation of the Psalms into Esquimaux. Their words are run
together, as in the German language. Lockwood made some purchases,
giving in return an old pair of pantaloons, old clothes being a
circulating medium, and preferred to money. He was surprised to find
that these people had a paper currency, the units being the ocre and the
crown, one hundred ocres making one crown, while the crown is worth
about an English shilling. In dealing with one another, the ocre seems
to go a good way, but not so when a stranger is dealt with; and to do
much shopping with this currency, one must carry a load of paper equal
to what was required of Confederate currency in wartimes to buy a barrel
of flour. The coins were of copper, valued each at five ocres.

On the following day, Lieutenants Greely, Kislingbury, and Lockwood, all
dined at four o’clock with the inspector’s family, by invitation of his
wife, in the absence of her husband on official duty; the courses being
soup, fish, eider-duck, and canned green peas, with a dessert of jelly;
wines and brandy being served with the courses. The cooking and serving
were excellent, the waitress an Esquimaux damsel in pantalets.
Afterward, with others, they called on the governor, and with him went
down to witness a dance. Lockwood learned that the population of the two
divisions of North and South Greenland together was about nine thousand
souls.

On the 19th, at the request of Lieutenant Greely, Lockwood made an
exploration of the mountain-cliffs south of the town. After a long tramp
over the soggy moss, and up steep cliffs, much annoyed by innumerable
mosquitoes, he returned to dinner, with very little information worthy
of mention. After superintending some stowage, he again called to see
Mrs. Smith, the inspector’s wife, and enjoyed her excellent piano-music,
to say nothing of the wine and cigars she offered. Then he went to the
dance, but not until after the men had left. These Greenland dances, as
already intimated, resemble the Virginia reel, differing only in the
alternate chasing of the partners through the two rows till caught.

Having completed their stowage and coaling, and having taken on board
fourteen dogs with their food, they would have left Disco but for the
fogs. Dr. Pavy, who had been left there by Howgate, joined the party on
the 20th, as surgeon, as Mr. Clay was expected to do at Ritenbank. They
had some music on the chapel organ in the evening, which was well
rendered.

The penning of the dogs was a scene of excitement and amusement. Their
snarling and biting and fighting had no end until one of the number
present was acknowledged, for his prowess and valor, the victor by all
the others. Then the battle ceased, but only until there was a new
arrival, when the battle was renewed and the _parvenu_ put _hors de
combat_, or declared king. In due time the steamer left Disco, and
arrived at Ritenbank between 10 and 12 A. M. The harbor was found to be
quite roomy and the entrance wide and deep; icebergs float into it, and
thus render Ritenbank less desirable as a harbor than Disco. While
there, with Mr. Clay (who now joined the expedition) and some of the
men, Lockwood visited the neighboring bird mountains or looneries,
rowing up a fiord some three miles distant. The approach to these was
manifested by the commotion among the innumerable eider-ducks and other
wild fowl flying overhead, swimming in the water around, or occupying
the narrow ledges of the vertical cliffs on either side, some of which
were five hundred feet high and covered with birds. The shot used being
too small, would kill only at short range, and it was difficult to
obtain the game; consequently they got only seventy fowls of various
kinds. On their return they visited an Innuit burying-ground, which,
from its antiquity, must contain many of the natives, whose blood is
much purer than that of the present stock; for it is said the present
Esquimaux blood is now very much mixed. The graves were oblong piles of
lichen-covered stones, containing the moldering skeletons, which were
generally in a sitting posture. But little regard is paid to the dead in
Greenland. Influenza, and consumption induced thereby, are rapidly
carrying off the natives, and this is increased by uncleanly habits,
improper food, and bad ventilation, the latter aggravated by the
introduction of small stoves into their close houses. The present
longevity, it is said, averages thirty-three years.

The prevailing fogs greatly decreased the pleasure the explorers would
have had in viewing the grand scenery in the passage to Upernavik, which
they reached on the 23d of July, or in about fifteen days from
Newfoundland. They had in sight numbers of icebergs, some of immense
size. The whole western coast of Greenland is skirted with islands,
separated from each other and the mainland by deep fiords. If it were
not for the fogs, a pleasant summer excursion could be made through
these fiords to the everlasting barrier of glaciers, which render the
interior a veritable land of desolation.

Very soon after the expedition had arrived at Upernavik, it was found
necessary for some one to go to a place called Proven, to obtain
Esquimaux guides and a supply of Arctic clothing, and to Lieutenant
Lockwood was assigned this duty. He and his helpers boarded the
steam-launch, and, with Governor Elburg as guide, proceeded on their way
through an inner passage leading to the place of destination. Their
course lay along rocky and precipitous cliffs, many of them covered with
auks and other wild fowl. The cliffs attained an elevation of two and
three thousand feet, and were so smooth and regular as to have the
appearance of having been made by man. Without any shore whatever, large
ships could lie alongside in safety. On their arrival at Proven, they
saw the whole population in their picturesque costumes lining the shore,
to view what they had never seen before—a craft moving without oars or
sails.

Near the shore were located four large warehouses where seal-oil was
deposited before shipment, and where also were kept by the Danish
Government supplies of provisions for issue to the natives in case of
emergency. The huts of the natives were found still more primitive than
those at Disco, for here the entrance was through a long, low gallery,
requiring one to grope in darkness almost on hands and knees. Lockwood
softened the heart of the occupant of one by presents of tobacco, and
induced him to play on his fiddle simple airs which he had picked up
from whaling-crews. This brought in all the damsels of the town, and
soon waltzes and other dances prevailed. The lieutenant did not consider
it beneath his dignity to “show a heel.” He unfortunately answered
affirmatively to the question, “Are you big captain?” and was also
imprudent in giving an old lady a half-dozen ocres. He was at once
pounced upon by every one as lawful prey, and, what through begging,
extortion, and other means, the “big captain” was soon rid of all his
change, and might have been reduced to a state of nudity but for the
timely arrival of the governor, who took him home to dine and to lodge.
The soup, though sweet to the taste, was good; floating in it were
lemon-peel and raisins. Next came reindeer-steaks cooked in wine and
most delicious. Potatoes were the only vegetable. Cooking and serving
excellent. Brandy, beer, and wine in profusion. The meal terminated by a
general hand-shaking, according to custom, and the governor kissed his
wife. The lodging was equally agreeable, affording the luxury of a clean
feather bed. In the morning, and while yet in bed, a young Esquimaux
damsel in pantalets brought the American a cup of strong coffee with a
few crackers. That day he took on board the launch two Esquimaux,
Frederick Christiansen and Jans Edwards, lashing their kyacks behind,
also the seal-skin, dog-skin, and other clothing they had come for, and
at midnight left amid the hearty cheers of the natives and the tears and
lamentations of the friends of Jans and Frederick who had come to see
them off.

After an uneventful passage, and stopping only to add one hundred and
twenty-seven birds to their larder, the launch reached the ship at 10 A.
M. on the 25th. Lieutenant Kislingbury and a crew in the whale-boat
afterward went to Sanderson’s Hope Island and secured several hundred
more, so that there was no scarcity of fresh food. In the mean time some
new dogs were secured, so that the total number now on hand was
thirty-two.

The ship left Upernavik on the 29th, and, keeping the inner passage,
made her way toward the north.

While crossing Melville Bay on the 30th, there was no ice in sight
except bergs, and the sun shone brightly. That state of things was a
great surprise to the explorers, as here it was that McClintock was
frozen in for a whole year, and Nares congratulated himself in having
passed the bay without detention. Indeed, Melville Bay has always been
regarded as the _bête noire_ of Arctic travel. An Arctic bear found on a
broken pack of floating ice was killed by Lieutenant Kislingbury, and,
when hoisted on board, was found to weigh a thousand pounds and to
measure seven feet two inches in length. They were probably fifty miles
from land at the time.

On the last day of July, the Proteus party sighted land, which they
supposed to be Cape Dudley Diggs, north of Melville’s Bay. Much old
floating ice was seen, but so rotten as to offer no obstruction. Several
seals and many little auks were killed and secured.

About this time Lockwood and others observed tokens of disrespect and
insubordination on the part of some of the men, which were traced to a
certain corporal as ringleader. Lockwood watched him with care, and
urged the propriety of sending him home by the first opportunity, which
was afterward done.

On one occasion, toward evening, the voyagers witnessed the overturning
of an iceberg three hundred feet long and one hundred and fifty feet
high. After capsizing, it continued to revolve on several axes for some
time. Its change of base was preceded by the fall of several detached
pieces, thus shifting its center of gravity.

The next day, August 1st, was clear and cool, and without fog. Passed
Dudley Diggs at noon and then steered for Gary Islands, sighting them
three hours later. The officers looked hard for the crimson cliffs near
Dudley Diggs noticed by Sir John Ross, but observed only some slight
discoloration of the snow. The glacier near this cape seemed to be two
or three miles long; at the sea-shore, of inconsiderable height, but in
the background, attaining an imposing elevation. The ship’s compasses,
as usual in this latitude, were all crazy, occasioning some bewilderment
to the captain. The bear and seal meats were duly served on shipboard,
and pronounced palatable by all, though to some the bear-meat was
slightly fishy. Two boats with all the officers and others landed on the
most easterly of the Cary Islands, and proceeded at once to find and
inspect the _cache_ of provisions—thirty-six hundred rations—left there
by Sir George Nares for his own safety. They were apparently in good
condition, notwithstanding many of the barrels resting on their ends
afforded opportunity for rain and snow-water to enter. Some biscuits
were found moldy. Replaced the Nares record by a copy, and also left a
full record of the Proteus. There was found there an excellent
whale-boat, turned bottom upward, with oars and sails complete. This
Lockwood urged Lieutenant Greely to take along, but he preferred getting
the one at Foulke Point. The former regarded the supply of boats as too
small, and circumstances might arise which would cause them to regret
not using this one. They had only the steam-launch, a twenty-four-feet
whale-boat, and a small, fourteen-feet row-boat—the whale-boat being the
only one to be depended on in case of accident. The boat at Point Foulke
was thought to be inferior. They picked up driftwood, an oar, and some
burned pieces of a ship’s stem or stern. They also saw some red snow,
and shot several eider-ducks. The Cary Islands were found to be barren
masses of rocks without vegetation.

The steamer came to anchor at Littleton Island at 9 A. M. on the 2d of
August, just as the steering-gear gave way. A party went to “Life-boat
Cove” and brought back a number of articles left by the Polaris
Expedition of 1873. They saw neither Esquimaux nor reindeer, but shot a
walrus. Lieutenant Greely made an effort to find the cairn left there by
Nares, and the letters left for Nares by the Pandora. He found the
letters but not the cairn, though there was a dismantled cairn afterward
seen by others. Lockwood with a party of men put ashore several tons of
coal, which, as it had to be carried up some thirty feet above the
sea-level, he found no easy job. While thus engaged, this party had an
adventure with some walruses, not unattended with danger. Having excited
a drove of them by a simultaneous fire, the animals came toward the
boat, and at one time held its inmates in peril. Lockwood alone was
prepared to meet the foremost, and by good luck slew one of them, when
all the rest disappeared. The walrus can be killed only through the
brain, and when wounded, the animal is exceedingly ferocious. Numberless
boats have been destroyed by them. Lamont thinks the walrus superior to
the bear for food. Those they saw were evidently a female and her young,
and their safety was in having killed the mother. Littleton Island
affords a good illustration of these shores. The sides rise
precipitously, sometimes in steps composed of immense cubes of
trap-rock, sometimes in steep <DW72>s formed from the crumbling of the
same. The top of the island is seven hundred feet high, according to
Nares, and generally quite level. Of soil, there is none. The summit
afforded a fine view of the sound, though somewhat obstructed by fog. No
floating ice; and the western coast with its snowy mountains quite
distinct.

Having crossed the strait during the night of the 2d of August, in the
early morning they ran along the western coast, which was very distinct
and picturesque, the bluffs and headlands being reflected by the smooth
sea. Striking the western coast near Cape Sabine, at 8 A. M. they
reached Cape Hawkes, a headland over a thousand feet high and very
picturesque. While Lieutenants Greely and Kislingbury visited the cairn
there, Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Lockwood went to find the record on
Washington Irving Island, both left by Nares. They then continued their
way with slight interruptions from fogs until abreast of Franklin
Island, when they were obliged to lay-to because of fog. They had not
been delayed a moment by ice, and were surprised to see so little of it.
Their success emboldened them to hope that they might reach Lady
Franklin Bay without obstruction. Indeed, they even thought of inducing
Captain Pike to run on until he reached the north pole itself, or at
least till he attained a higher latitude than did Nares. One of the dogs
having died, they became impressed with the thought that the poor curs
suffered much from being cooped up and from the damp weather. The party
continued on their way up Kennedy Channel with everything favorable,
having the finest weather yet seen; air soft and balmy, sky clear, and
water smooth.

On reaching the vicinity of Franklin Island and Carl Ritter Bay, they
left there a small deposit of hard bread, pemmican, and rum, and
continued on their way rejoicing; and so onward until nearly 10 P. M.,
when, just above Cape Lieber, they encountered an impenetrable pack
extending all the way across the channel, and as far ahead as they could
see. The ship made a savage dash at it, but in vain, and thus, but eight
miles from Lady Franklin Bay, and with Cape Baird in full view, they
were brought to a standstill. The mountains along the coast were covered
with snow, but the valleys and low places were bare. The prominent
objects of the landscape were all distinctly seen from their
position—Capes Lieber and Baird on the left, Franklin, Hans, and Hanna
Islands in the rear and left, and, in the far distance, Polaris
Promontory and Petermann’s Fiord, with the glacier beyond. A party that
went on shore saw traces of the musk-ox, but no animals were seen.

Several of the officers and men attempted the ascent of the promontory
of Cape Lieber, a precipitous cliff three thousand feet high, which
seemed but a stone’s throw away, but to reach which required a long,
cold row, and then a fatiguing and painful climb. Lockwood and two only
of the party succeeded. The difficulty was in the giving way of the
crumbling slate-rock, which formed an incline of 45°. Those that reached
the summit were rewarded by a grand view, extending to the limit of
vision. On their return, after clambering over some rocks cropping out
of the slippery snow and ice, they chose a short cut and came down at a
run, or rather slide, followed by a miniature avalanche of _débris_. On
the 6th of August, it was found that the icy barrier, which evidently
came from the Polar Sea, was moving south, carrying the steamer along.
Some game was seen in both air and water, but none taken. Parties
attempted to reach the shore on the ice, but were recalled by signal, as
moving ice was seen from the ship, and also open water near the shore.

From this point they slowly drifted south, with high winds from the
north which opened up lanes of water which they did not think safe to
enter. The total drift amounted to ten miles. With the lowering of
temperature, it was suggested that it would be well to move across the
channel, along the pack, and, if needful, land on the Greenland shore,
possibly where Hall had wintered.

On the 11th of August, the ice barrier gave way under a change of wind
and weather, leaving the passage open. Under full steam and sail, and
with beautiful weather, they soon regained all the distance they had
lost by drift, passed Cape Lieber, and came abreast of Cape Baird.
Thence forcing their way through the broken ice of the bay, and reaching
Bellot Island, which marks the beginning of Discovery Harbor, they cut
their way to a secure spot for the ship to rest in. And thus ended the
voyage to Lady Franklin Bay or Sound. As this harbor, or a spot in its
vicinity called Fort Conger, was the one where the Signal-Service
station was to be established, the steamer Proteus here ended her
voyage, soon to return to Newfoundland. Discovery Harbor, which was to
be their home, is an indentation of the bay covered by Bellot Island on
the south. This indentation extends east and west some ten miles, and is
probably two or three miles from north to south. Inclosing the harbor on
three sides is a line of rugged bluffs and hills (or rather mountains,
for they are two thousand feet high), those on the east side sloping
back gradually, but elsewhere precipitous and rugged in the extreme.
Thus, with Bellot’s Island fifteen hundred feet high on the south, was
formed a harbor, landlocked and most admirably sheltered.




                                 VIII.
                 HOUSE-BUILDING AND LOCAL EXPLORATIONS.


Immediately after the explorers had anchored their ship in Discovery
Harbor, they saw a drove of musk-oxen leisurely ascending the
neighboring hills, which they climbed with the facility of goats. This
was indeed a cheerful prospect for men in so isolated a region and
without fresh meat, and many of them started forthwith in pursuit of the
game, working their way to the shore on the ice, but were compelled to
return after a vain attempt to follow the animals over the hills.

Hitherto there had been no opportunity to make any special discoveries,
but now a comparatively new field, to which the explorers were to devote
all their energies, came into view. Discovery, however, was to be always
subordinated to the duties of meteorological observations. As this
narrative proceeds, it will be seen that Lieutenant Lockwood was not
only eminently active at all times, but most successful as an explorer.

It being desirable to establish the station as near as possible to the
coal-mine on Watercourse Bay, Lockwood was dispatched with Messrs. Clay
and Ryan, to report as to the practicability of carrying out this, the
original intention. According to the map prepared by Nares, this bay
lies seven miles distant on the strait, and is separated from Discovery
Harbor by the mountain-ridge on the east, which terminates southward in
Distant Cape. They attempted the passage across these hills, following a
ravine leading in the proper direction, and had gone only a short
distance when they saw seven musk-oxen quietly grazing. Making a
_détour_, they thought to take them unawares, but soon saw them move
away to some distance up a steep incline. Expending vainly a few shots
at long range, they followed the animals up the hill, over a steep ledge
of rocks, and into a valley on the other side. Here the men halted,
concealed from view, and arranged plans for their capture. The animals
were covered by precipitous rocks on one side. Clay, Ryan, and Lockwood
approached them simultaneously on the other three sides, and thus had
them surrounded and at their mercy. Some depressions and other
irregularities of the ground enabled the hunters, by crouching low down,
to approach the game unawares. Clay firing first, the whole herd rushed
toward Lockwood’s side, closing up as it came, and, seeing him, made a
charge. Dropping on one knee, he threw his cartridges down and blazed
away with great rapidity. Many shots telling, the animals halted before
him only a few rods off, and at once attempted a flank movement; but now
Clay and Ryan closing up, the herd was check-mated. In five minutes from
the first shot every animal of the herd—five grown and two calves—lay
dead before the hunters. The hunters were sorry they had killed the
calves, but in the excitement it could hardly have been otherwise. They
then returned to the ship to report their success, and to have the
carcasses brought in. This addition to their larder was the occasion of
great joy, not only as giving a present supply of fresh meat, but in its
promise for the future; not only as a luxury, but as the only certain
means of warding off the scurvy, so much and so justly dreaded by Arctic
explorers.

After supper of that day, Lockwood, ever ready for adventure, again
started for Watercourse Bay, accompanied by Clay, Ralston, and the mate
of the Proteus. Following the small stream, which came into the harbor
at this point, for three miles, by an easy and regular ascent between
lofty mountains on either side with a <DW72> of about forty-five degrees,
and over ground and patches of snow thrown up like potato-hills, they
reached its head, and there, fortunately, found another stream running
in the other direction. Following this, they were brought to Watercourse
Creek, which runs into Watercourse Bay. Being uncertain whether the
coal-mine, said to be on this creek, was above or below this point, they
followed the creek up-stream three miles, when, not finding it, they
retraced their steps to the point where they entered the creek, and,
finding it impossible to follow the bed, climbed the bank. Here they saw
two more musk-oxen, which they slew by strategy as before, and, opening
the carcasses with penknives, left them to be carried in. Coming near
the mouth of the creek, Lockwood saw indications of coal, and soon after
reached the exposed seam of one hundred yards’ extent by twenty-five
feet depth, distant about three fourths of a mile from the sea. This
coal is said to equal the best of Welsh production. Near here, they saw
another musk-ox, whose life they spared for the time, as they had so
much meat in store. Lockwood found, and so reported, that, though
Watercourse Bay had the merit of a near coalmine, and was nearer the
grounds of future explorations, it was not possible to use it at once
for the unloading ship without great risk and labor because of moving
ice. Discovery Harbor, though full of ice from sixteen inches to ten
feet thick, was perfectly landlocked and unobstructed. Ralston preceded
the party home, killing one musk-ox _en route_. The Arctic summer was
now at its height, lichen, moss, saxifrage, and various other little
red, yellow, and blue flowers, bright red moss, and tufts of green grass
at intervals, breaking the monotony of the somber rocks and earth. But
the enjoyment of these beauties of nature could not then be indulged in,
as all hands had to take part in unloading the ship, a labor which was
soon accomplished.

The next business in order with the explorers was to build a house, and
they selected a site facing the water, fifty feet from, and fifteen feet
above it. While this work was progressing, the men lived in tents.

On the 19th of August, all hands were sent ashore, and the Proteus
started on her return, but, passing too near Bellot Island for safety,
was caught in the ice and delayed. Lockwood made an effort to follow in
her wake with the steam-launch, but failed, because of the rapid closing
in of the great masses of broken ice and the wedging of small ice-masses
into the screw and well. The launch battled manfully with her foe, the
ice. Frequently he ran her under a full head of steam against a massive
floe, which would be shivered for a few inches, the recoil causing the
launch to roll and pitch like a little giant. In young ice she would
sometimes split a sheet for ten or fifteen yards at one impact.

Finding nothing to do while the house-building was progressing,
Lieutenants Lockwood and Kislingbury occupied themselves with tramping
after ptarmigans and other game over the mountains whose steep sides
formed the eastern entrance of the harbor, and the northern boundary.
Viewed from the house, their sides seemed gradual and their summits not
over twenty minutes’ walk. In fact, however, the sides were successions
of <DW72>s separated by precipices, growing greater with the ascent. What
below seemed the top was only one of many that must be passed before the
real summit or divide could be attained. They reached the summit marked
by the English cairn, and from there viewed the scene below. How small
the ship appeared! and yet it seemed as though they could throw a stone
upon her. They reached home with wolfish appetites, but with no game.
The ptarmigans, which they chiefly sought, are provided, at this season,
with a coat so nearly resembling the shade of the rocks and grounds as
to be almost indistinguishable. By a happy provision of nature, in
winter the feathers of this bird become white with only a little black
about the tail.

The lieutenants then extended their excursions over the mountains on the
north side of the harbor, availing themselves of a ravine, called the
“Black Cañon,” which leads to a pretty waterfall. Climbing out of this
cañon with difficulty over loose slate and other _débris_, they found
themselves on the high backgrounds of the North Mountains. Thence moving
west over loose rock and snow, and through pools of water, they finally
came in sight of Musk-ox Bay, the western extremity of Discovery Harbor.
They then retraced their steps, reaching home without having seen a
living object bigger than an humble-bee.

On the 23d, the house was occupied, though not finished. Looking after
their supplies, they found that the foxes had made free with the
carcasses of the musk-oxen left near Watercourse Bay. Lockwood now
proceeded to superintend the laying out of the observatory, digging for
foundation pier of transit, etc. He found the ground frozen after
reaching thirty inches, which may be taken as the depth where perpetual
frost begins. The ship being still detained, but with a prospect of soon
getting off, Lockwood wrote more letters home in which he expressed an
opinion about the Proteus. Her chances of departing south were doubtful.
Detention there for the winter would be embarrassing all around, as
neither the ship nor her crew were prepared to stay, nor the explorers
able to help them through the winter.

Just before her final departure, some difficulty arose between
Lieutenants Greely and Kislingbury, which ended in the latter making a
request to be relieved from duty with the expedition, which request was
granted. One of the annoyances complained of was the rule that officers
should rise in the morning with the men, and although Lockwood advised
Kislingbury not to make any further trouble, he decided to pack up,
board the Proteus, and return home. In this, however, he was not
successful, as the steamer got away before he could reach her, and the
order for his relief was somewhat modified. After explaining his action
in this matter, Lieutenant Greely remarked that, if anything should
happen to him, he desired that Lieutenant Lockwood should have command
of the expedition. Lockwood expressed himself as very sorry for what his
fellow-officer had done, and could not understand his course of action.

As soon as the building was entirely finished, on the 27th of August,
the explorers found themselves very comfortable. The dull, cheerless
weather and monotonous life were beginning to depress the spirits of
Lockwood, but he felt that, when settled down to regular habits, he
would not find the life in the north more irksome than that he had
experienced on the Western plains of the United States. It may be
mentioned that the final opening of the house, or government station,
was commemorated by the issuing of an order from Lieutenant Greely, that
the exploring expedition along the northern coast of Greenland, which
had been marked out for Lieutenant Kislingbury as senior officer, was to
be placed in command of Lieutenant Lockwood. He now felt that the
opportunity for doing something creditable, for his own as well as his
country’s reputation, was at hand, and his feelings of depression gave
way to those of enthusiasm.

On Sunday, the 28th of August, all work was suspended, and some
appropriate notice was taken of the day. Lieutenant Greely read a
chapter in the Bible, having previously stated that any one would be
excused from attending the service who had conscientious scruples. The
supply of drinking-water having come up as an important question,
demanded attention. The water was obtained from the ice-hummocks in the
harbor. Pieces of suitable size were brought to the house on sledges and
then melted in a large metallic box near the stove, through which and
the stove ran a steam-pipe. Thus a liberal supply was kept up.

Wishing to establish a depot on the channel for future explorations,
Lockwood left with Sergeants Brainard and Cross to explore St. Patrick’s
Bay, lying northeast of the station and on the straits. The ground being
covered with snow, the Government boots were soon soaked though, and the
feet of the party became wet and cold. Following a ravine, they soon
reached a lake near the summit of the hills in the rear, where they saw
a musk-ox grazing on the bank. The animal fled on seeing them, but
stopped farther on. Approaching him under cover, Lockwood got a standing
shot and brought him down. Skinning him and dividing the carcass into
quarters, they left the meat for others to carry in and went on their
tramp, which took them midway between the “hog-back,” an elevated
plateau on the north, and the rugged broken chain of mountains which lie
between Discovery Harbor and Robeson Channel. About noon they reached
St. Patrick’s Bay, but at a point so different from that laid down in
their maps, that Lockwood felt some doubt as to its identity, to settle
which, they proceeded to explore a wide river-bed, followed by a deep
cañon, which led into the bay near its head. With this view, and to see
the country to better advantage, they kept north along the steep rocky
sides of the “hog-back,” over rocks, great and small, compact and loose,
and generally covered with snow. After two hours of laborious travel,
they found themselves high above the riverbed and in a position giving
them a good view north and east. The main stream seemed to come from the
north, with a branch from the west, the whole through lands of the most
rugged description. Beyond the river to the east, the hills were more
sloping, yet rising to an immense altitude between the river and the
channel beyond. It seemed not difficult to descend into the bed of the
river, walk up its frozen course, and, taking advantage of some break in
the cliffs a few miles up, gain by a gradual ascent the high hills
beyond, thus obtaining a view of Robeson Channel. The descent, over
rocks, stones, and snow, involving great fatigue, took two hours. This
brought them to a level terrace extending from cliffs to cliffs, through
the center of which ran a deep cut or channel containing the
insignificant stream, the sole occupant of this immense cañon. They
gained the frozen stream with difficulty, cut through the ice and got a
drink, and then regained the level terrace above, and began their steep
climb up the mountain beyond, through a friendly ravine. One hour’s work
brought them to an elevation which, at a distance, had seemed to be the
main summit, only to find that farther on there were still higher
points. Finally, at 6 P. M., they reached an elevation where the <DW72>
seemed to be eastward, and from which a magnificent view was obtained of
the channel from Cape Lieber to Repulse Harbor, while directly east of
them lay Newman’s Bay and Polaris Promontory. After erecting a cairn,
they started back, cold and hungry, satisfied that they had seen the
true St. Patrick’s Bay.

Regaining the river-valley, they had a most fatiguing climb to attain
the pass through which they had come, and where they had killed the
musk-ox. Just east of the lake, they encountered Dr. Pavy and Rice, and
soon after Ralston and Lynn, going to Lincoln Bay _via_ St. Patrick’s
Bay. Our party reached home at midnight, with frost-bitten feet and
empty stomachs, Lockwood finding his stockings full of ice and one toe
badly frost-bitten.

He was laid up for a week with frosted feet, and had apprehension of
losing some of his toes. Although suffering greatly, he was made
especially unhappy by the thought of being disabled so early in the
campaign. Discussing the subject of scurvy with Lieutenant Greely, they
agreed in regarding the explorers much better provided against it, than
was the British expedition, in that their dietary list was more
complete. The English issued fresh beef but once a week; the Greely
Expedition three times or oftener. This expedition had also the great
advantage of a dry, warm, well-ventilated house.

Lockwood’s report as to St. Patrick’s Bay settling that as the place for
their first depot, Sergeant Brainard with others proceeded to establish
the same there by means of the whale-boat, moving around Cape Distant.
Lockwood was much annoyed that his disability prevented his being one of
those to carry out this important feature toward their future
explorations. He took advantage of his non-active condition to figure
out a design for an “ice-sledge,” which he thought would be an
improvement on the Hudson Bay sledge they had in use. Lieutenant Greely
approving the plan, he proceeded at once to build one by way of
experiment. The duty assigned to Brainard was duly accomplished, and
Depot A was established at St. Patrick’s Bay.

Having received a gentle reminder from Lieutenant Greely for
oversleeping himself, Lockwood said he could not complain, the offense
not being his first of the kind. The singular clearness of the
atmosphere had enabled him to make satisfactory sketches of Cape Lieber
and other prominent objects in the distance, and also of the house.

Among the events which made the early days of September somewhat lively
were the following: Gardiner reported a waif, in the shape of a boat
twelve feet long and an eight-men sledge, on the shore near Cape
Murchison. Lieutenant Greely with others, and Lieutenant Kislingbury as
a guest, went upon a two-days’ trip to the Bellows in search of game and
to view the land. They were successful in securing ten musk-oxen, a
dozen or more eider-ducks, and some other game. Sergeant Lynn, returning
from Cape Beechy, reported a wagon and lamp on the shore, left by the
English.

Dr. Pavy returned from Lincoln Bay, but Rice, taken on the return with
severe inflammatory rheumatism, was left four miles north of St.
Patrick’s Bay. A party was at once sent for his relief, which brought
him in, in a bad way. Great difficulty was found in lifting him up the
steep cliffs between the station and St. Patrick’s Bay.

Lockwood, having recovered from his injuries, went upon an expedition to
the Bellows with Gardiner and the Esquimaux Frederick, using an
eight-dog sledge and carrying rations for four days, consisting of
roasted musk-ox, baked beans, butter and sauce, hard bread, and
chocolate. They visited Bleak Cape, the entrance of the Bellows. The
Bellows they found to be a long, level valley, walled in by lofty hills
and cliffs, in some places two or three thousand feet high. It bears the
impress of having been, at some far-distant period, the channel of a
glacier, its level surface being thickly strewn with stones, while there
are masses attached like shelves to the sides of the cliffs and <DW72>s.
For twenty miles, the valley preserves a width of nearly three miles;
beyond this, it narrows and changes direction toward the west. A small
creek runs through its entire length, which generally they followed. The
route was difficult, owing to the large number of stones imperfectly
covered with snow, and hence all riding ceased after they entered the
valley; for the dogs could scarcely pull the sledge and its load, and
often required aid. Here they met a piece of drift-wood, indicating that
the tide once flowed up the valley, for no tree or wood had ever been
seen away from tide-water. One of the dogs becoming sick was turned
adrift, trusting to her following the party or returning home. Reaching
“Devil’s Head,” they went into camp by turning up the sledge and hanging
rubber blankets around to shield them from the cold wind, and then ate a
supper of warmed-up beans and hot chocolate, and tumbled into the
sleeping-bags, all of which they found most enjoyable.

After a breakfast of chocolate, hard bread, and some frozen cheese, they
were delighted to see the sick dog rejoin them. The sledge-runners were
rapidly wearing out, and they concluded to walk to the end of the
valley, leaving the Esquimaux with the sledge and team while they pushed
on as best they could.

Lockwood and Gardiner reached the head of the valley at four, and,
proceeding up the incline to the west where it narrowed to a ravine,
went on till they came to a narrow gorge—its terminus. Having seen all
there was to see, and Gardiner complaining of a game leg, they retraced
their steps, reached the sledge at 10 P. M., and at once, supperless,
turned into their sleeping-bags. Near the terminus of the valley they
met two musk-oxen, but, having only their knives with them, did not
venture on an assault, though the animals stood still and quietly gazed
at the intruders.

Returning, they followed the creek, finding some advantage from the ice
which had formed during the night. Lockwood saw and took back with him a
few pieces of wood-coal, or very soft coal, evidently of recent
formation, which had doubtless washed down, but whence he knew not.
Reaching Bleak Cape, they decided to make a _détour_ west to a cañon
near the “Knife-edge,” where the musk-oxen were killed by Lieutenant
Greely and party a few days before; but no musk-ox, dead or alive, was
to be seen. Gardiner being still lame, Lockwood abandoned some other
objects he had in view in making this trip, and, striking out directly
across the bay and riding on the sledge, they reached the station
without incident.

Dr. Pavy made an unsuccessful attempt to reach an estuary at the head of
Lady Franklin Bay, from which Lieutenant Greely thought a passage might
be forced westward to a supposed fiord or sea connected with the waters
leading through Behring Strait into the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately,
finding Lady Franklin Bay open beyond Stony Point, the doctor returned
without settling this interesting question, which, as will be seen,
Lieutenant Lockwood afterward solved.

Sixteen, or more, large Arctic wolves were seen in one day on the ice, a
few hundred yards from the house. These were the first seen by them; the
English saw none here, nor do Kane, Hayes, or Hall mention them. These
wolves are large, strong, fierce-looking beasts, perfectly white in
color, and anything but desirable customers to meet.

Lieutenant Greely, and Sergeants Brainard, <DW12>, and Connell, left on
an exploration above and beyond “North Valley,” a deep cañon cutting
through the “hog’s back” north of the station. They left without
sledges, carrying six days’ rations, sleeping-bags, etc. Following the
“North Valley” upward, and leaving it near its head, they soon found
themselves in a water-course running toward St. Patrick’s Bay. Turning
westward, and going some distance, they came in sight of what they
regarded as the United States Range; but, a heavy snow-storm coming on,
they cut short the trip after traveling twenty-five miles, and returned.
It was deemed unfortunate that the untoward weather prevented their
getting a good view from that range. The absence of glaciers and large
water-courses, the low altitude of the range, and many other features in
that region, all seemed to indicate a large sea not far to the westward.

The building of Lockwood’s sledge turned out a failure, for the want of
proper appliances.

On the 17th of September, the party celebrated Whistler’s birthday by a
dinner of his own selection—oyster soup, roast musk-ox, potatoes, corn,
pear-butter, cake, etc., and a glass of grog in the evening. Two-story
bunks were built for the men, giving more room. The Signal-Service
men—the observers—had a little corner partitioned off, where they were
to sleep and work. Another corner was fitted as a wash-room, where warm
water might be had, and where there was a bath-tub, which all were
expected to use every week. Other arrangements had been provided
productive of comfort and health. Lockwood’s time was now chiefly
occupied in drawing maps, making finished drawings from sketches,
reading, and sledge-work.

Dr. Pavy, with a party, went to take provisions to the depots, but
failed to get round Cape Murchison. Not satisfying Lieutenant Greely,
the latter himself undertook the task, and, after considerable
difficulty, in which the sledge broke down, succeeded. On the 21st the
sun presented a remarkable appearance, having rainbows to the right and
left, which nearly joined above; also radiating vertical and horizontal
beams of light.

Lieutenant Kislingbury, after many futile efforts with arsenic,
succeeded in poisoning many wolves with strychnine. Five of them bit the
dust at one time, and by this means the party was able to get rid of
these dangerous neighbors. This animal, as stated, is perfectly white,
and is not unlike the Esquimaux dog, but larger and more formidable.

On the 24th of September, Lockwood started on a trip to Cape Beechy with
Ellis, Fredericks, Ralston, Biederbick, and one large sledge, to
provision Depot “A,” distant twenty miles. They started with two hundred
and fifty pounds on the sledge, intending to take on other food left
near Cape Distant. Their passage around this cape was accomplished only
after cutting away masses of ice. Beyond this, and with their load
increased to three hundred and fifty pounds, they struck masses of rocks
over which the sledge and load had to be lifted. There they left the
photograph apparatus for Rice, and took lunch. Afterward they passed
Watercourse Bay, and the English wagon lying on the shore, and halted
for the night at 6 P. M. at Cape Murchison, without any remonstrance on
the part of the tired-out men, notwithstanding some of them, about noon,
had proposed going on to Cape Beechy without a stop. Indeed, Lockwood
observed anxious faces among them when he hesitated about stopping.
Floe-bergs of every form and shape—square, oblong, round, and
pyramidal—from ten to forty feet high, were scattered along the shore.
Without the barrier afforded by these, the floating floe, moving with
the noise of railroad-trains, would cut away the foot-ice and render
travel impossible. Using the tent at Depot “A,” and the bedding, etc.,
there, they got supper over the spirit-lamp and crawled into their
sleeping-bags. The cold, cramped position, and dropping of congealed
moisture from the tent, robbed them of sleep; hence they rose at 5.20,
little refreshed. Beautiful “sun-dogs” were noticed with the rising of
the sun across the strait. Toward noon similar appearances, peculiar to
the Arctic sun, were still more remarkable—rainbows on either side, and
joined above the sun, while vertical and horizontal beams of white light
pierced the sun. They passed St. Patrick’s Bay, and, after a hard and
cold day’s work, reached Depot “B,” south of Mount Bufort and a little
farther south of Cape Beechy, at 3 P. M., the 25th. On the following
day, dragging an empty sledge, they returned to the _cache_ at St.
Patrick’s Bay, loaded up with three hundred and fifty pounds, and
returned to Depot “B,” tired, cold, and wet with perspiration, this last
being, perhaps, the greatest obstacle to Arctic travel. The great
exertion soon induces perspiration, which being checked when labor
ceases, you are at once sensible of cold water and ice at the same time.
It was rare to have anything entirely dry after the first day of work.
The sole resource was to use the heat of the body in the sleeping-bags
at night. Mittens and socks were the most important to keep dry, and the
most difficult. Their lamps being imperfect, they found a difficulty in
preparing their chocolate. The alcohol took fire below and filled the
tent with fumes quite as unpleasant as the cold. Having left their tin
plates behind, they had to eat from one dish. Eating was simply
cramming, that their benumbed fingers might give up the cold spoons and
return to the warm pockets. Yet with all these discomforts they ate
heartily, and with appetites unknown elsewhere than in the Arctic
regions; and, notwithstanding dirt, cold, and alcoholic fumes, they had
their jokes and songs while lying in their sleeping-bags, trying to keep
warm and get to sleep. But their ills did not end there, for whenever
the canvas was shaken, frost-like snow—condensed vapor—fell upon them,
which melted with the lighting of the lamp in the morning. Truly, this
was a rough road to glory and fame!

Two of the men, in consequence of the crowded tent, had to sleep outside
with the thermometer at -15°, and left without breakfast, to return to
the station. The party soon followed them, and, after stopping at St.
Patrick’s Bay to take on a log of driftwood observed there, which gave
them an additional pull of five miles, reached the station long after
dark. Having taken something to eat and drink, they got into their warm
and dry beds, which never felt more comfortable.

The next man to command a party was Dr. Pavy, who had in view a
long-projected trip to Cape Joseph Henry, with the object of carrying
out the wishes of the Navy Department, that a search should be made
there for the Jeannette, and a signal placed indicating that help was
near at hand; another object was to establish a depot for spring
operations. His force consisted of the Esquimaux Jans, Whistler, and two
dog-teams. His “constant weight” was two hundred pounds, and he took
rations for twenty days. He counted upon other rations at Lincoln Bay
left by the English, and those nearer home left by Greely’s men at Depot
“B,” near Cape Beechy. He hoped with these to establish a depot near the
place where the Alert had her winter quarters, and thus be ready in the
spring to surpass Markham. Lockwood was inclined to think the doctor a
little too anxious to retain personal comfort while exploring, to
accomplish much. He had been convinced that sledge-journeys of any
considerable extent in those high latitudes could be made only by the
sacrifice of every personal comfort.

On the 2d of October, there was a remarkable and beautiful sunset. The
lower part of the picture was formed by the clear white ice of the
harbor westward. Then came the distant mountains, whose snow-capped
summits reached into a sky of beautiful green; above, a line of gold,
and then blue and gold alternating, and finally the deep-blue vault
studded with masses of red—on the whole a most gorgeous spectacle.

Finding this inactive life monotonous, Lockwood started on an
exploration of the streams which enter St. Patrick’s Bay from the north.
Lynn, <DW12>, Saler, Henry, and himself constituted the party, and they
proposed going by way of the gap through the mountains rather than
around Distant Cape. They had not gone far before they regretted having
taken this short cut, for they found the way exceedingly laborious from
want of snow—so much so, that they were six hours in reaching the steep,
rocky bluffs which overlook St. Patrick’s Bay and the valley at the
north of it, and they were two more before reaching the level of the
bay. Indeed, this was only attained by carrying their load piece by
piece down the cliffs and letting the sledge down by ropes. Here they
put up their tent and went into camp. Unfortunately, they had neglected
to bring candles, and hence had to eat their meal in darkness. Lockwood
and Saler occupied one sleeping-bag, while the others were in another.
They passed the night cold and sleepless. There being a birthday dinner
at the station, they had intended to walk back to it, a distance of
seven miles, but, on account of the condition of the way, abandoned the
idea.

Getting off at an early hour after a cold breakfast, and reaching the
bed of the water-course, they made their way over its stony bed, so
lightly covered with snow as to rapidly grind away the sledge-runners,
up the cañon, as grand as the stream was insignificant. Finding their
progress so much impeded, they left the sledge behind and made their way
without it. The cold being intense, to keep up circulation they walked
rapidly, but suffered greatly in their feet and hands. Having
volunteered for this expedition, they were ashamed to give it up, though
often disposed to do so. Thus, for three tiresome hours, they kept on
their way, either following the bed of the stream, or along the
mesa-like formations, which projected like shelves from the
mountain-sides. Finally, the valley and mesas alike disappearing, the
stream entered a narrow gorge. Gaining an eminence, the further course
of the stream was indicated to them, and its probable terminus in
table-lands of great elevation seen in the distance. Returning by the
bed of the stream until the valley had attained a width of half a mile,
they entered from the west a very picturesque cañon thirty feet wide
with walls one hundred feet high. Its walls were worn smooth, as though
by the action of ice, and there were small, basin-shaped holes
apparently made by bowlders caught by glaciers. They also met with
blocks of quartz much larger than could possibly be moved by the force
of any body of water now passing through the cañon. Notwithstanding
their exhausted condition, and the worn state of their foot-gear from
the numerous stones and rough ice they had passed over, they concluded
not to spend the night where they had left the sledge, but to go on to
Depot “A,” near Cape Murchison. Adding their outfit to that of the
depot, they had a night of less discomfort than usual. On passing Cape
Distant, they noticed a broad channel of open water in the strait,
preventing any passage at that time.

On reaching the station, they found that the temperature had been -16°,
and it was probably 4° lower where they had been. Lieutenant Greely was
putting in order a variety of reading-matter for the men. Sergeant
Brainard was absent at the Bellows, with Rice and <DW12>, after musk-ox
meat. They returned later, badly frosted, but brought the meat to within
easy sledging distance.

The 7th of October, being Mrs. Greely’s birthday, was celebrated with a
dinner made regal by the following-named dishes: gumbo-soup, biscuits,
old sherry, Columbia River salmon with sauce sauterne, boiled ham,
asparagus, sago, corn, lima-beans, cold bread, chocolate cake,
strawberry and pineapple ice-cream, dates, figs, grapes, prunes, candied
fruits, coffee, and Benedictine.

In Payer’s “History of the Austrian Expedition to Franz-Josef Land,”
Lockwood found much of interest in connection with the requirements for
a sledge-journey—details of clothing and other matters best suited to
fit one to stand the cold. The book he considered of great value to any
novice in Arctic sledging. He supposed that they themselves were much
better off than any expedition that had wintered within the Arctic
Circle. The most serious difficulties—dampness, want of ventilation, and
darkness—were reduced with them to a minimum, while of fresh meat,
anti-scorbutics, and fuel they had an abundance; and if their assortment
of clothing—particularly foot-gear—had been better, they would have had
nothing to desire.

Besides the large stock of coal left by the Proteus, they had the
coal-mine within ten miles. The men seemed comfortable and contented.
They had a bathroom and bath-tub, with hot and cold water ready at hand,
and books and periodicals in abundance. Their heating arrangements were
generally perfect and quite effectual. The light from the sun amounted
to little, and artificial light within-doors was required all day; but
with a full moon, bright sky, and everything covered with snow, they had
a flood of light almost an equivalent. They had musk-ox meat almost
every day, and a large store on hand. They also had a large supply of
the best pork, lime-juice, cider, sour-krout, pickles, onions and
cucumbers mixed, and other anti-scorbutics. The men were comfortable,
seemed happy and cheerful, and found many sources of amusement—among
others, from an anti-swearing society. Delinquents were fined five cents
each, the proceeds to pay for a grand dinner on returning to the United
States. Several members incurred such enormous fines as to become
bankrupt, and were expelled. These outcasts lay around and beguiled the
unwary, thus affording amusement to all except the victim. Rice and
Israel had a way of carrying on ridiculous discussions. One evening they
had an apparently angry dialogue, in which Rice personated a tipsy
lodger complaining of the fare and demanding his bill, and Israel, an
insulted landlord. Both seemed entirely in earnest, and kept their
countenances amid roars of laughter and gibes from the men.




                                  IX.
        PRELIMINARY SLEDGE EXPEDITIONS AND LIFE AT THE STATION.


Among the amusements which helped to kill time at the station of
Discovery Harbor, officially called Fort Conger, was that of celebrating
certain birthdays, and this chapter begins with what was done when
Lieutenant Lockwood attained his twenty-ninth year. He confessed that he
did not wish a “happy return of the day” in the Arctic regions, and yet
he would be contented if they should all be as pleasant as the one just
experienced, in spite of the cold winds, ice, snow, darkness, and
anticipations of exposure and fatigue when his spring travels should
begin. He spent most of the day in sewing canvas leggings to his
moccasins and altering his trousers, while Lieutenant Greely entertained
him with recollections of his army experience during the rebellion,
fighting his battles over again. His birthday dinner was something quite
formidable, consisting of:

  Pea soup à la Proteus,
  Scalloped oysters à la Eastern Shore,
  Deviled crabs à la Chesapeake,
  Musk-ox à la Franklin Bay,
  Potatoes à l’Irlandaise,
  Macaroni à l’Italienne,
  Rice and curry à la Pacific Mail,
  Blanc-mange, fruits, nuts, cake, ice-cream, and black coffee.

Lieutenant Greely kindly added, from private stores, some very good
California port wine. Lockwood’s reflections, however, carried him to
his distant home, and he longed to know that all there were well—that
his dear parents and sisters were happy as when he was with them!
Perhaps, even at that hour, their thoughts and words were of him. On
this day, as frequently on his sledging journeys, he pictured to himself
the family circle in the far-off home. The cold, fatigue, and monotony
attending him and his companions were rendered endurable by thus
breaking away from the present.

On the morning of the 10th of October, Lockwood started on a trip with
Jewell across Lady Franklin Bay for Cape Baird. Had no difficulty for a
mile or two beyond Dutch Island, but mist and fog then obscuring their
way and blotting out the landscape, they kept on their course by
compass. Soon they encountered heavy snow-drifts and many floe-bergs and
fields of rubble-ice, all unfavorable for sledging. Fortunately, they
had only themselves to transport. Though the weather was cold, they soon
found themselves oppressively warm from the labor attending the journey.
Profiting by past experience, Lockwood had this time come out warmly
dressed—viz., with two flannel shirts, a woolen jersey, an under-shirt
of light buckskin, heavy woolen drawers, a seal-skin over-all, and two
pairs of socks under light buckskin moccasins. He then became convinced,
that it was quite as great a mistake to wear too much as too little
clothing. Even when they could ride on the sledge, which was not often,
there were numerous bad places where they had to run with the dogs and
lift the sledge over obstacles. Trying to avoid the moving ice, they
struck too far westward, so that when they approached land they found
themselves some two miles within the cape for which they had started.
Stopping only to take a bite of crackers and meat, they started to
retrace their steps, but not before daylight had left them, and they had
only the moon to show them the way. After some time they thought to
reduce the distance by taking what they supposed was a short cut, but
soon found themselves scrambling over hummocky ice of the most
formidable character. They regained their track, but not till overcome
by thirst and fatigue. Resting at short intervals, they finally came in
sight of Dutch Island, and soon afterward were gladdened by the sound of
distant shouts. Dr. Pavy and Sergeants Brainard and Connell had come out
to meet them, and not empty-handed, for they bore a bag of hot coffee,
and never did coffee taste more delicious. Though the mercury was nearly
nine degrees below zero, when they reached the house everything they had
on was as wet as if they had fallen overboard.

The result of that reconnaissance was that they decided to establish a
“depot” near Cape Baird, which labor was duly carried out by Lockwood,
Ellis, Saler, and <DW12>. The weather being open, they started directly
for Cape Baird, but, finding that route impracticable, inclined westward
and got into their old track. After much delay and great labor, they
reached a point on the farther side, where they found it necessary to
encamp for the night. The tent was pitched, chocolate boiled, and beans
thawed out, after which they crawled into their sleeping-bags, trying to
forget, if possible, that the thermometer stood at -24° without.
Resuming their journey, but now with the discomfort of wind added to
intense cold, they made their way ashore, established the depot of
provisions, and with lightened sledges and hearts retraced their steps.
Noses were frozen during the day, and only restored by friction, which
made them raw and uncomfortable. Very soon after starting back, twilight
disappeared, and they had only the moon to light them on their way.
Passing the resting-place of the previous night, they concluded to make
the journey to the house without stopping. They stumbled on in the dark,
a used-up party, Lockwood having a sprained tendon Achilles, and also a
lame back. The air becoming calm, they were enabled to stop sometimes
and rest, which they could not have safely done in their perspiring
condition had the wind been blowing. When near Dutch Island, Dr. Pavy
and Lieutenant Kislingbury met them with hot coffee, which so much
refreshed them that the rest of the journey seemed easy, although it was
probable that Lockwood’s raw red nose, frosted toes, lame back, and
tender heel, would be reminders of this trip for a long time.

On the 16th of October the sun disappeared, to rise no more until
February. With the mercury ranging from -28° to -40°, Lockwood amused
himself by scraping off the accumulated condensation of moisture from
the room on the window-panes near his corner, the ice being one inch
thick.

About this time Lockwood took up a course of Arctic literature, with
which they were liberally supplied. This was chiefly in view of his
sledge-journey in the coming spring. Feeling the need of exercise, he
left the station on the 23d for Depot “B,” Cape Beechy, with Brainard,
Connell, and the Esquimaux Frederick, and a sledge with eight dogs. At
Depot “A” they took on a small stove and a bag of coal from the mines,
and thereby the tent at Depot “B” became more comfortable than anything
they had experienced away from the station; notwithstanding, they had a
comfortless night, as the crowded condition of the tent compelled some
of them to lie so near the stove as to endanger their safety. Lockwood
woke up to find a large hole burned in his blanket. Afterward, the fire
going out, they suffered more than when they had had no fire at all.
They erected a snow-house for a depot here, forming the sides of tough
blocks of compact snow, and covering it with the boat-sail supported by
oars, and, by imitating the natives in some particulars, had a house
impervious to cold.

While there, Lockwood, with Brainard, ascended Mount Bufort, near at
hand, and had an uninterrupted view of the straits as far down as Cape
Lieber, and of the opposite coast, between which and them hung
water-clouds, indicating open water. This fact was also indicated by the
roar, like a moving railroad-train, made by the crushing of the ice in
the current. Having passed another night in their warm snow-house, they
made their way next day to the station in less than five hours, and
found all hands there engaged in erecting an ice wall around the house
as high as the eaves, and filling in with snow. This proved most
effectual in keeping the house warm.

Lieutenant Greely had an uncomfortable experience while assisting to
make a tide-gauge. He fell in and got a ducking—not his first experience
in that direction. Wolves were daily seen near the house, and were so
bold and fearless that the men deemed it prudent never to leave the
building without fire-arms; for, as the animals were of the same color
as the snow, they could not be easily distinguished.

On the 29th, a singular aurora made its appearance, consisting of a
ribbon of white light a degree wide, stretching through the zenith from
north to south; then another arch, 10° westward, whose base touched the
first; and still another, also passing through the zenith, and cutting
the others at right angles.

On the 30th, Lockwood commenced preparations for a preliminary journey
to Hall’s winter quarters, whenever the straits could be crossed and the
weather and light were suitable. Among other things, the saddler,
Fredericks, made a tent to hold eight men, using to that end two common
“A” tents.

About this time, while cogitating on his room and room-mates, Lockwood
said: “Surely this is a happy quartet occupying this room! We often sit
silent during the whole day, and even a meal fails to elicit anything
more than a chance remark or two. A charming prospect for four months of
darkness, such gloom within, and penned up as we are in one room! I have
doubts of getting over the straits, but I must be off as soon as
possible, for I find a relief in getting away.”

Lieutenant Greely had felt himself compelled to show his dissatisfaction
with Dr. Pavy’s explorations, or rather attempted explorations. He and
the doctor had also adverse views as to how explorations should be made.
The doctor wanted to take along many creature comforts, while Greely
thought, with Lockwood, that nothing could be accomplished without
sacrificing all beyond bare necessities.

Having everything complete, Lockwood started on the 1st of November to
try the passage of the straits, with Brainard, Lynn, Saler, Biederbick,
Ellis, Fredericks, and Connell, dragging an eight-man sledge, weighing,
with load, one thousand pounds. They left sledge and load beyond Cape
Distant, and returned to lodge at the house, where all hands fortified
themselves with a first-class dinner, preparatory to the labors of the
next day.

They got off early, but, owing to the limited light and other
difficulties, found themselves some distance from the snow-house near
Cape Beechy when darkness overtook them. Having all in readiness on the
4th, they again got off, leaving Ellis at the snow-house with an injured
foot. This was unfortunate, as he was a strong, willing fellow, with
lots of pluck. The prospects of crossing the straits at this time were
not encouraging, both from the short duration of light and from the open
waters. Still, they determined to make the effort. This they first did
with the whale-boat, which they had picked up on their route. They
mounted it on the sledge, but soon found they could not drag so heavy a
body, and returned to the snow-house. Rice, whom they found there, was
then sent with a dog-sledge to bring up a small boat from Cape
Murchison. Dr. Pavy, Lieutenant Kislingbury, and Jans coming along _en
route_ for another attempt northward, were surprised to see how
comfortable they were in the snow-house.

After extensive repairs to the small boat, they again got off at noon,
seven men and Lockwood himself dragging the sledge, on which were the
boat and one hundred and fourteen pounds of rations. On reaching open
water, three only were to proceed in the boat, the others to fall back
on the snow-house. They got along pretty well until they came to the
hummocks, through which, with extreme labor, and frequently using an
axe, they made their way, till they heard, in the distance toward
Polaris Promontory, the roar of the grinding ice, indicating open water.
Moving on ahead of the party over very rough ice, and crossing some wet,
slushy ice fifteen or twenty yards wide, Lockwood found himself on a
level floe. He had gone only a short distance over this toward a dark
streak beyond, which he took for open water, when he found that the floe
upon which he stood was in motion. Retreating over the bed of slushy
ice, he found this to be really only a thick mass of broken pieces
intermediate between the moving floe and the firm ice. He could readily
thrust his ice-hook down through it to the water beneath, and did so.
Reaching the sledge-party, and viewing the difficulties of the
situation, he decided, all agreeing, on the impracticability of crossing
at this season. They accordingly displayed signal-torches from the top
of an iceberg, as agreed upon, that Lieutenant Greely might know that
they had found the crossing dangerous and had abandoned the effort. They
returned in darkness, and with considerable difficulty, guided somewhat
by a signal-torch displayed by Ellis at the snow-house. They remained
all day at the snow-house, which the men found so comfortable that they
preferred it to the restraints of the station. At noon Lockwood and
Brainard went upon a tramp, and found the condition of the open water to
be such as to demonstrate the wisdom of their return the evening before.
The men made some additions to the snow-house, which were regarded as a
great success. The return to the station on the 7th was attended with
more difficulty and labor than had been expected, arising from a strong
south wind having worn away the foot-ice, and the small amount of light;
hence, they soon had wet feet, which in that region always means
frost-bitten feet. So much were some of the men used up by this journey
of twenty miles, which had before been made in one day, that they had to
be conveyed on the sledge, and did not reach the station till the third
day. At Dutch Island they met Whistler, who, missing Biederbick at the
ropes and seeing a human form on the sledge, came to the conclusion that
Biederbick was dead, and repeatedly exclaimed, “Poor Biederbick! poor
Biederbick!”

During a period of dullness at the station, Rice and Henry projected a
newspaper, to be called the “Arctic Moon,” and Lockwood, to whom, also,
the idea had occurred, agreed to join them as one of the editors. They
wanted something to dispel the monotony which was depressing all hands,
as all were tired of reading, of cards and other games, while two of
Lockwood’s room-mates were gloomy and taciturn. To counteract this, he
resumed his reading, especially history and travels—anything but novels.
Kane’s work interested him especially, and he considered him a
remarkable man, courageous, energetic, and determined. Their own manner
of life just then reminded Lockwood of a rainy day in the country
intensified. “Yet,” says he, “why not be contented? Books and leisure
afford an opportunity for reading and studying which we may never have
again. We have a warm, comfortable house, plenty of food, and other
things which many are without. Life in this world is just what one
chooses to make it. Man can make of it a heaven or a hell.” He felt
anxious as to the effect of one hundred and thirty sunless days upon
himself and men, as this might tell on their sledging in the coming
spring. Nares’s people broke down under it, and, when sledging, were
decimated by the scurvy. They themselves were fortunate so far in not
having had a single man sick enough to keep his bed.

True to his intellectual instincts, Lockwood formed a class in geography
and grammar, consisting of Ellison, <DW12>, Connell, and Whistler, while
Lieutenant Greely taught them arithmetic. On the 22d of November
appeared, with a flourish of trumpets, the first number of the “Arctic
Moon.” Of course the editors thought it a great success. It had for the
frontispiece a sketch of the house, drawn by Lockwood, while Rice made
fair copies of the paper by the hectograph process—enough for all, and
many to spare.

These trifles served to shorten, apparently, the many hours of gloom and
darkness, which were wearing away the spirits of all. The men were now
far less hilarious than they had been, and, with the game of chess to
assist, silence reigned supreme.

Thanksgiving-day, with its games, sports, and dinner, gave them a
pleasant variety. First, came the snow-shoe race of one hundred yards,
Brainard, victor. Next, the foot-race, with many contestants, but Ellis
coming out ahead. Then the dog-team race to Dutch Island and return,
under the Esquimaux Jans and Frederick, the latter, victor. And,
finally, a shooting-match, necessarily at short range, and with torches,
Henry, victor. These and other out-door exercises were followed by the
grand feature of the day, the Thanksgiving dinner, and not a poor one
either, even for a lower latitude than eighty-two degrees. In the
evening Lieutenant Greely gave out prizes to the victors and second
best, Rice acting as master of ceremonies, rigged out in swallow-tail
coat, black pantaloons, white vest, and “boiled” shirt. The mercury
froze on that day, and Lieutenant Greely brought in a teacupful, which
looked like lead as it comes from the mold. The moon also made its
appearance, and all fully appreciated the blessing of this luminary.

“What a change,” exclaimed Lockwood, “when she comes forth in all her
beauty and loveliness, flooding the landscape with her refulgent beams
and cheering the drooping spirits of benighted mortals! Even the poor
dogs feel her influence!” On the 1st of December, they had an almost
total eclipse of the moon, more remarkable there than an eclipse of the
sun elsewhere. During the phenomenon, the exposed part of the disk was
of a dull-red color. Lockwood took the altitude of the moon while
crossing the meridian, using a saucer of molasses as an artificial
horizon. She flooded the whole region with a light, electric in
appearance, and causing deep shadows. In the evening they were treated
to a display of mock moons, with a circular band of bright light
connecting them, and several bands or ribbons of light at various
angles, but all passing through the moon.

The Esquimaux, Jans and Frederick, having of late been much depressed,
efforts were made by kindly attentions on the part of Lieutenant Greely
and others to dispel their gloom and assure them of the friendly feeling
entertained toward them by all. These good offices, however, all failed.
Dr. Pavy said this state of mind was not infrequent among the natives of
lower Greenland, and often resulted in the wandering off of the subjects
of it, and, if not followed, by their perishing in the cold. One morning
Jans was missing, and at once his tracks were followed by Dr. Pavy,
Brainard, Rice, and Whistler, with the dog-sledge. Late in the afternoon
they returned with poor Jans, who was found nine miles away, following
at a rapid pace the ice-foot around Cape Murchison. He returned
unwillingly, and gave no reason for his strange conduct. Rice and
Whistler were both rendered _hors de combat_ by the journey, the former
by a fall from an ice-hummock, the latter by congestion of the brain
owing to having shaved before going out. Both Dr. Kane and Dr. Rink (in
his book on Greenland) refer to hallucinations similar to that of Jans,
and the frequent fatal consequences.

On the 14th of December appeared the second number of the “Arctic Moon,”
which was thought to be an improvement on number one, and was well
received. Lieutenant Greely gave a lecture on the “Polar Question.”

On the same day also, Esquimaux Frederick came to Lieutenant Greely and
asked permission to leave the station, and, when asked why, said some
one was going to shoot him—a strange hallucination!

On the 20th Lockwood writes: “The sun now begins his journey to the
north; the backbone of the winter is broken! Walking out at noon to-day,
I was just able to see the hands of my watch by holding it close to my
eye. The profound silence of this region is quite as striking, and
almost as disagreeable, as the darkness. Standing still, one can almost
hear his heart beat. The sense of solitude is sublime.” Speaking of
Arctic literature, he says that “Hayes’ book, though beautifully
written, is far below that of Kane as to information and reliability. No
one who has been up Smith’s Sound can fail to notice this.”

On the 24th of December, after eating a birthday dinner, the Christmas
presents from an unknown friend to every one of the party, were
distributed. The rooms were appropriately decorated, and everything was
done to render the occasion cheerful and pleasant. Those articles not
specifically assigned by the donor were disposed of by lottery.

Lockwood indulged in the following reflections: “How suggestive of home
and of the dear ones there! How often do my thoughts wander away to
them! Has Providence been equally kind to them as to me? The day with me
suggests alternately the past and the future. Will next Christmas find
me here, with everything around as auspicious as now, and shall I then
be able to look back with satisfaction and self-complacency on my labors
along the Greenland coast? Or will the future bring a record of dreams
unsatisfied, of efforts unproductive, of labor in vain? My mind is far
away with that group at home assembled together and doubtless regretting
that the absent one is not of their number. Could I but see them for an
hour, or know that all is well with them, I should rejoice, indeed!”

The “Lime-Juice Club” gave an entertainment on the same evening, at
which Snyder affected Jans to tears by his personation of an Esquimaux
lady, and Connell brought down the house as a martinet captain, by
exclaiming, when a soldier who had shot himself was brought in: “Very
sad affair, very sad, indeed! Charge him with two cartridges expended,
Sergeant.”

Lieutenant Greely also gave the party as a lecture, “Reminiscences of
the Battle of Fredericksburg,” which was interesting and two hours long,
though entirely _ex tempore_; and Lockwood was announced to lecture on
“Arctic Sledging.”

On the 31st, rations of rum were issued to help the men welcome in the
new year. They were also to fire a salute with rifles. Fiddles were in
full blast, with singing and other marks of hilarity.

Lockwood’s lecture on “Arctic Sledging” was given January 3, 1882, and
was well received. Being confirmed in his opinion that he was no public
speaker, he intended to leave lecturing for others thereafter. On the
9th he took his usual walk, notwithstanding the thermometer was at 60°
below zero, and felt the cold chiefly on his nose. It seemed curious to
him, that when the thermometer was lowest, the air was stillest. Were it
otherwise, he supposed existence in the Arctic would be an
impossibility.

But severe as was the weather, it did not deter him from the study of
science, as will be seen by the following record, made on the 9th of
January: “I have been looking up the subject of nautical astronomy for
some time past, and to-day and this evening, taking sextant, mercury,
etc., and establishing an observatory on top of an old barrel in front
of the house, commenced observations on the transit of Markab, Capella,
and other stars, but have not been very successful. Everything conspires
against one in this climate. It reminds me of my observations last
spring. However, I hope by dint of practice to do better. The winter is
passing away slowly but surely. The time is coming when I shall look at
these stars from grassy fields, on a summer night, in the temperate
zone, I hope. The stars up here are very bright, and a great many of
them circle around the pole and never set. It is a beautiful sight.
Arcturus, Aldebaran, and others, besides being very bright, show
different colors, red, violet, and green. Jupiter looks immense.”

Still absorbed with his astronomical studies, he gives us the following
on the 13th of the same month: “The moon appeared after noon. How
welcome she is! How a poet would rave over the moon could he once
experience a polar winter!—not simply an Arctic winter, for anywhere
north of the Arctic Circle is the Arctic, and the dark days which most
expeditions have seen are trifling compared with ours. I think it would
be a good idea to exile a first-class poet into these regions for the
purpose, but give him to understand he was never to return. How he would
sing!”

On the 12th, they had a phenomenon they had never heard of—the
precipitation of vapor with a perfectly clear sky. It resembled a heavy
mist or light rain.

On the 16th occurred the first hurricane of the season. It began in the
morning with heavy south wind and sudden fall of barometer. At noon the
wind whipped round to the northeast and blew with indescribable fury,
filling the air with snow-drifts, and blotting out the view of
everything even a few feet distant. The anemometer registered sixty-five
miles, and then broke down. The noise of the storm, as heard from the
house, was as though on shipboard. It must have given way but for the
ice walls around it.

On the 20th, Lieutenant Greely issued a circular letter, calling
attention to the order that all should be up for breakfast. Kislingbury
and Dr. Pavy took exceptions to this, and the latter declined to lecture
in his turn.

The next evening occurred a beautiful and unique auroral display, the
chief features of which were many broad bands of pure white passing
through the zenith and reaching to the east and to the west horizon,
which blended, twisted, and curled in upon each other in a very
remarkable manner. The spectacle was viewed with wonder and amazement.

On the 26th, the twilight at noonday was quite bright. The moon also
lent her aid; but low spirits and a sense of oppression and homesickness
prevailed, all induced, doubtless, by want of exercise, and loneliness.

“Another twenty-four hours,” wrote Lockwood, on the 6th of February, “of
this interminable night nearly gone! Thank God! Sometimes it seems as if
this life must hold on forever, but _tempus fugit_ up here as well as
elsewhere. The days and weeks seem weeks and months in passing, and yet,
in the retrospect, time seems to have passed quickly, because there is
so little in the past to mark its progress, I suppose.”

Lockwood could not realize the extreme cold, and seldom wore his gloves
when going out for a few minutes. Though he put on a thick dog-skin coat
and seal-skin over-all when taking his daily walk, he really did not
regard so much clothing necessary. Exposure to such low temperatures,
however, for several hours, and particularly at night, was to be
dreaded. Many authorities—among others Lieutenant Greely—spoke of a
peculiar sensation in the throat on first encountering a very low
temperature, as when going out of doors from a warm room, but such was
not Lockwood’s experience. Provided it was calm, he could stand any
degree of cold he had yet met with. Owing to the peculiar and admirable
construction of their house, the men were able to keep up 50° of heat
within, however cold without.

On the 13th of February, Lockwood with two men went to see what damage
had resulted from the late storm to the observatory on the summit of
Bellot Island. Contrary to their expectations, they found the snow not
only deep, but with a crust just firm enough _not_ to bear.
Consequently, they sent the dog-sledge back, and proceeded on foot,
frequently sinking down knee-deep. Though the thermometer stood at -65°,
they got into a profuse perspiration, which was not lessened by the
steep and slippery ascent of two thousand feet. From this point the
station-house seemed only a black spot, and was hardly recognizable as a
house. Having made their inspection and fired their rifles several times
as agreed upon with Lieutenant Greely, who was experimenting on sound,
they returned. The result of these experiments was, that at -65° sound
travels nine hundred and fifty feet per second. This was the coldest day
they had yet experienced, and still they did not suffer with the cold.

The return to a warm house was an indescribable comfort, and Lockwood
thought that if this could always be done, Arctic journeying would then
be nothing. It was unprecedentedly cold even for that latitude. Pure
brandy and also glycerine were frozen hard. The poor dogs suffered, yet
many of them preferred to remain curled up on the snow-banks outside, to
occupying the tent and holes prepared for them.

On the 19th, Lockwood made a dog-sledge trip with Brainard and the
Esquimaux Frederick to Depot “B,” to look for a good place to cross the
straits. Found that the snow had drifted so as to form a continuous
inclined plane from the bluffs far outside the snow-house and tent, thus
almost concealing them. They recognized the spot only by seeing the
stovepipe jutting above the snow. Knowing how the mouth of the tunnel
lay from this point, they dug through the hard, compact snow, cleared
out the tunnel, and soon found themselves within the snow-house. The
little stove was swallowed up in a cone of snow reaching from roof to
floor. This had drifted through a small aperture where the pipe pierced
the roof. The fire going out after they turned in, the room became
extremely damp and chilly. However, they made up for the discomforts of
the night by a rousing fire in the morning, over which they got up a
grand breakfast of musk-ox steak, beans, coffee, and hard-tack. They
next sent the team with Frederick down to St. Patrick’s Bay for a bag of
coal, while Lockwood and Brainard walked over the straits toward Polaris
Promontory. Going out some four or five miles over ice of varied nature,
some exceedingly broken and hummocky and some quite level, they
returned, satisfied that the time for crossing over was not yet.
Frederick had, in the mean time, returned, mended up the hole in the
roof, made a good fire, and prepared a warm meal.

They again started out to test the important passage, taking a route
farther north. There the rubble-ice reached only two hundred yards from
the shore, beyond which, as far as they walked and could see, smooth ice
extended. They returned, satisfied that this was the place to attempt
the passage when the time should arrive for their contemplated
exploration farther north.

They made the trip over the foot-ice to the station (twenty miles) in
four hours, thus proving the fine condition of the sledge and dogs for
traveling, and the eagerness of the dogs to rejoin their companions and
pups. All the way, they had before them to the southward a rich glow on
the horizon like the sunrise of a fine morning at home. They found the
men celebrating the 22d of February by match-games of various kinds,
and, after listening to an appropriate speech on the Father of his
Country, enjoyed a good dinner.




                                   X.
                           “THE ARCTIC MOON.”


As already mentioned in this narrative, among the events which occurred
at the Greely Scientific Colony, or Fort Conger, was the establishment
of a newspaper, the first ever issued so near the north pole, the
nearest approach to it previously having been “The Ice-Blink,” issued by
Kane’s Expedition in 1854. It was projected by G. W. Rice and C. B.
Henry, but Lieutenant Lockwood was the editor-in-chief. The sheet was
fifteen by nineteen inches in size, first prepared in manuscript and
then multiplied by photograph, published on the 2d of November, 1881,
and semi-monthly as to time. As the musk-oxen, the walruses, and the
bears and wolves of Grinnell Land took no interest in the enterprise,
the patrons of the paper were confined to the colony of explorers. In
his opening address, the editor proudly claimed that his corps of
contributors embraced the finest minds in the country; that his
reporters would always be “on the spot”; that the journal was certain to
be superior to any other in the country; and that the subscription list
numbered not less than twenty-five thousand—the last assertion being a
servile imitation of what often appears in the papers of New York and
other American cities. And now, by way of giving the reader an idea of
the style and character of this unique journal, it is proposed to
reproduce in this chapter, as specimens, a collection of its editorials,
contributions, items of news, and advertisements. In an article on
“Christmas,” the editor gives us the following pathetic reflections:

“Our Christmas-time has come and gone, and, although our geographical
position is not a favorable one for the complete observation of this
joyous anniversary, it was attended with many of the happy features that
make its memory a pleasant landmark of the dying year. No boughs of
‘evergreen were berried bright’ (our crop of evergreens failed this
season), but had they existed, the conditions for making them ‘white
with rime’ were very favorable.

“Christmas always attracts a crowd of joyous faces, and, although we
missed the pleasure of ‘childhood’s grace and fair maiden’s blushes’
under the mystic mistletoe, the stalwart, bearded men who grasped hands
under our smoke-begrimed roof felt indeed the inspiration of the
gladsome time when the voice of man’s good-will to man speaks forth in
everything. Could the possessors of the kind hearts and hands that
contributed so much to the pleasure of the party have looked in upon the
happy, smiling faces, living again a day of their youth in the
anticipation and surprise attending the bestowal and opening of the
mysterious packages containing the presents, they would have felt more
than rewarded for their kind thoughtfulness. Lips unused to the task
framed grateful acknowledgments of the kind act. The interest in our
happiness taken by the wife of the commanding officer was repeatedly
shown, and when, as we sat down to our inviting Christmas dinner, we
contemplated a crowning proof of her kind good-will, repressed
enthusiasm could no longer be restrained, and three rousing cheers for
Mrs. Greely were given with an effect which proved beyond cavil the
vigor of our lungs, and rendered unnecessary the weekly examination of
the doctor.

“Of course, the festive season brought with it regrets that would not be
repressed, and longings that could not be satisfied, when processions of
absent loved ones and severed friends followed the funerals of other
Christmas-days through thoughts that would wander over snow, and ice,
and land, and sea, to the happy firesides where we knew they were
gathered. But every one looked on the bright side of things, and
extracted as much comfort and pleasure as possible under the
circumstances; we even knew one sordid individual who congratulated
himself on the immunity of his exchequer from the heavy drafts generally
entailed by the purchase of Christmas presents. We have not space to
enter into a detailed account of all the happy features of the holiday.
Altogether, our Christmas was a great success.”

By way of showing that there was nothing very frigid in the hearts of
the explorers, another editorial is submitted, on the New Year:

“Christmas is gone, with all its pleasant associations, and we find
ourselves on the threshold of a new year. What thoughts the day recalls
to a reflective mind! the exodus of the old, the advent of the new year;
the past and the future, history and prophecy, the ceaseless alternation
of life and death, the eternity of nature.

“The day is suggestive in another way. Where were we a year ago? what
doing? what looking forward to? Where shall we be a year from now? what
will be our surroundings, and what shall we look back upon? How distant
seemed this day a year ago! how short now seems the time that has since
elapsed!

“The new year of 1882 finds us a community of twenty-five men, living
through the cold and darkness of an Arctic winter, in a small house near
the north pole, thousands of miles beyond any civilized habitation. A
year ago saw us scattered—some in the cities, some on the plains of the
far West, some occupied in quiet routine, some in the ceaseless changes
and activity of the field. Will the next year find us here with our
surroundings as satisfactory and auspicious? We trust so, and this day
is eminently a day for making good resolutions. We are free agents, and
the future depends, in great part, on ourselves. Let us, then, determine
that, so far as lies within our power, we shall have no cause to look
back with regret on the year just ushered in. The phrase is hackneyed,
but none the less true:

  ‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
  The saddest are these—it might have been.’”

And now we come to a contribution addressed to the editor of the “Arctic
Moon,” as follows:

“As Grinnell Land is a recognized Territory of the United States, and
has a territorial form of government, a delegate from this Territory is
to be elected who is to take his seat at the opening of the
Forty-seventh Congress. The undersigned offers himself as a candidate
for the office, on the following platform: I am in favor of reaching the
north pole by balloon, a liberal appropriation for the purchase of
lime-juice, compulsory education, unlimited emigration, a homestead and
sixty acres of land, one musk-ox and two Esquimaux dogs to each actual
settler. I am also a strong advocate of woman’s rights, but there is no
good in rights without the woman. I am prepared to ‘chaw’ the points on
the above platform; I think it is ‘plump,’ and will stand without being
propped up.

                                              (Signed)    “Connell.”

And now, under the general heading of “_Moon-Beams_,” we come to the
following paragraphs, which are not only spicy, but characteristic
of the time and place with which they are identified:

“The British expedition found the ice in this harbor, January 1,
1876, twenty-eight and three-quarter inches thick. Measurements made
this day showed thirty-four inches. Our average temperature for
December was nearly eight degrees lower than theirs for the same
month.

“The darkest day being a thing of the past, we shall soon find
ourselves sliding down hill quite rapidly. We have made complete
arrangements to have the sun interviewed on his return to this
country the latter part of February.

“The walrus seem to have emigrated, so that the Dutch Island people
now take their daily exercise in _peas_.

“‘I wonder what is in the mess-boxes?’ is the oft-repeated query.
Have patience, brethren, time will show.

“Old Probabilities will be surprised to learn, that his enterprising
colony at this point is indulging in outdoor sports with the
thermometer at 40° below zero.

“To-day, at Dutch Island, Lieutenant Kislingbury was able to see the
time of day holding his watch about one foot from his face.

“Sergeant Cross has made another addition to his already numerous
trades—that of bottling samples of air for the examination and
scrutiny of those not favored with a sniff of Arctic breezes.

“Sergeant Brainard is excellent authority for the statement that the
gate-money taken at the racing contest will be devoted to the
advancement of geographical knowledge within the Arctic Circle. Such
being the case, the number of aborigines present will be a crucial
test of the desire on the part of the Grinnellites to bring their
country into more general knowledge.

“Wanted—A good family horse. Will buy it cheap, or will take for his
keeping, or keep for his taking. To be used on good country roads
and for family driving. Must be very gentle. No objections to a
Government mule. Address Jacob Doboy.

“Wanted—A poet for the ‘Arctic Moon.’ Must be strictly temperate and
a good speech-maker. No tailors need apply. Address this office.

“Wanted—A humoristic writer for the ‘Arctic Moon.’ The present
incumbent has suddenly become ill from too close application.

“Information wanted of the Greely Arctic Expedition. It strayed away
from home last July, and was last heard from at Upernavik,
Greenland.

“We beg leave to announce to the public that we have made extensive
improvements in our establishment, whereby we can furnish at the
shortest notice bread, twists, rolls, cakes, pies, tarts, and, in
fact, anything in the baker’s line. Wedding cakes made a specialty.
Are thankful for past patronage, and respectfully ask its
continuance in future.

                                                “Frederick Shootman,
                                             “San Francisco Longman,
                                                  “Merchant Bakers.”




                                XI.
                   EXPEDITION TO LOCKWOOD ISLAND.


On the 29th of February, Lieutenant Lockwood went upon an
experimental trip to Thank God Harbor preparatory to his proposed
grand expedition along the coast of Northern Greenland. His
companions were Brainard, Jewell, Long, and the Esquimaux, Frederick
and Jans, with two dog-teams. As the dogs, constantly yelping and
howling, competed for the mastery, they traveled rapidly, and, after
many twistings and turnings, reached their destination, where they
found the observatory still standing. They took a necessary
inventory, and, after a survey of the dismal plain, visited the
grave of C. F. Hall, where Lieutenant Lockwood recorded the
following touching notice in his journal: “The head-board erected by
his comrades, as also the metallic one left by the English, still
stands. How mournful to me the scene, made more so by the howling of
the winds and the thick atmosphere! It was doubtless best that he
died where he did. I have come to regard him as a visionary and an
enthusiast, who was indebted more to fortune than to those practical
abilities which Kane possessed. Yet he gave his life to the cause,
and that must always go far toward redeeming the short-comings of
any man. The concluding lines of the inscription on the English
tablet, I think good: ‘To Captain Hall, who sacrificed his life in
the advancement of science, November 8, 1871. This tablet has been
erected by the British Polar Expedition of 1875, which followed in
his footsteps and profited by his experience.’”

The American inscription on the wooden headboard was as follows:

                            IN MEMORY OF
                       CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,
               LATE COMMANDER U. S. STEAMER POLARIS,
                       NORTH POLE EXPEDITION.
                      _Died November 8, 1871._

“I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though
he were dead, yet shall he live.”

After various struggles with the snow, fog, and cold weather, ending
in frosted feet and faces, and after inspecting a boat left by
Buddington, they returned by way of the snow-house at Cape Beechy,
and, all very much exhausted, reached the station, receiving a
hearty welcome. Greely had been very anxious about the party, owing
to a storm of great violence, and had sent Dr. Pavy with men to
their relief. The trip thus made covered not less than one hundred
and forty miles. Lockwood now decided that on the 1st of April he
would start upon his proposed expedition. This trip occupied his
mind continually. He hoped he might be successful, yet there were
many chances of failure. Who could divine the future? He felt that
he ought to be able to reach Cape Britannia, but that was not
enough; he desired to do more.

As the time for taking his departure approached, Lockwood was
greatly troubled with rheumatism, but still was very busy in
maturing his plans. Lieutenant Greely wrote him a flattering letter,
putting the whole plan of operations in his hands and placing at his
disposal the entire _personnel_ and material of the expedition. This
would include almost all who could take the field. The men were
becoming enthusiastic and were showing an admirable spirit, although
they knew from experience that they were to engage in no child’s
play. Almost all of those selected had shown pluck hitherto. Without
this element no one could endure the hardships that they might have
to undergo. Should any of those selected break down early, there
were excellent substitutes among those left behind. Lockwood was
pleased with an exhibition of pluck by Ellis, who walked all the way
from Depot “A” with a frozen foot, refusing the offer of Jewell to
bring him on the dog-sledge. Jewell, on returning from Lincoln Bay,
had orders to convey stores to the “Gap,” where the boat previously
sent over the strait lay. Hence, before starting, supplies would be
placed at Depot “B,” at the “Gap,” and at a point intermediate on
the frozen strait.

Having all things complete, Sergeant Brainard was to proceed at once
with the supporting parties to Cape Sumner. He was to leave Depot
“B” with a weight to drag of one hundred and thirty pounds per man.
Lockwood was to follow with dog-sledge loaded with five hundred
pounds of pemmican. Thus they would concentrate at Cape Sumner with
the six hundred rations in hand, together with seven hundred pounds
of dog pemmican. The stores embraced pemmican, bacon, corned beef,
roast musk-ox, raw musk-ox, English beef, hard bread, canned beans,
potatoes, sugar, tea, chocolate, and coffee, besides which they
carried alcohol for cooking and lime-juice as an anti-scorbutic.
Their sledge ration had been made up by consultation with Lieutenant
Greely, though, of course, it might be departed from if
circumstances required. The diet list was purposely a varied one. No
rum or spirits were taken except as a medicine. The main supporting
party consisted of Sergeant Lynn, Corporal Ellison, and privates
Biederbick, Whistler, and Henry.

Lieutenant Lockwood, Sergeant Jewell, and the Esquimaux Frederick
formed the advance party, while Sergeants Brainard and Ralston,
Corporal Saler, and privates Connell, Fredericks, and one other man
constituted the second supporting party.

[Illustration: Sledging over the Arctic Floe.]

On the 2d of April, the main and second supporting parties moved off
in good style, amid the waving of flags, firing of pistols, cheers,
and other demonstrations. Both Lieutenants Greely and Lockwood took
occasion to address the men a few words of encouragement and advice.
Lockwood confined his remarks to the necessity of co-operation and
subordination as the chief essentials to success. He would follow
with Jewell and the dog-sledge, and, if he knew himself, would not
return unsuccessful. He got off at 8 P. M., with Jewell, Frederick,
and the dog-sledge Antoinette. The team of eight consisted of
“Ritenbank, the king,” a large white dog, at whose growl all the
rest trembled; “Major,” a friend of Ritenbank, and a very useful,
good-natured old fellow, hard-working and quiet, without any special
characteristics; “Howler,” a large, lean, mean, ill-natured brute,
whom they took on board at Disco, and who lorded it over the rest
till Ritenbank came on board at the place of the same name, when
Howler was dethroned; since which he had been morose and
misanthropic, and never associated with the other dogs. He set up
the most unearthly howling whenever any other dog approached him,
especially if that other dog had designs on something he was engaged
in eating or trying to eat—a tin can, for instance. At the end of a
march, when the pemmican was being cut up, and he, with the rest,
was awaiting his opportunity to make a general rush, his howling
became almost unendurable. But he was especially despicable, because
he allowed any and every dog of the team to jump on and bite him.
His only redeeming trait was his earnestness in pulling, for, when
the sledge stuck in deep snow or rubble-ice, he was the last of the
dogs to sit on his haunches and look while _you_ got it out. On
several occasions when Ritenbank was making efforts to get inside
the tent and steal the meat while all were asleep, Howler had given
the alarm by his unearthly howling. His place in the team was on the
right flank, and he kept it all the time, never dropping back and
coming up in the wrong place, as did the other dogs. Next to Howler
was the “Woolly dog,” a dirty-looking cur with long white hair,
which made Howler’s life a burden all the time by snapping at him as
he hauled by his side. Next came the “kooneys,” signifying in
Esquimaux mother-dogs. They were called “Black Kooney” and “White
Kooney,” and were both good workers. Then came “Ask-him,” a pup when
brought on board in Greenland, but now _of age_, and bearing the
airs of a veteran. He brooked insult from no dog but Ritenbank, and
evidently bided his time to contest the throne with him. He had even
taken upon himself the kingly custom of biting the adjoining dog
whenever he felt the whip. On his left were two dogs already named,
“Major” and the “Boss.” On the left flank was “Gypsy,” a little fat
kooney dog which pulled only under the lash, and yet by foraging and
stealing managed to get twice the rations of any of the rest, and
was always plump and fat.

The advance party reached Depot “A” in good time, and took on five
sacks (five hundred pounds) of dog pemmican and some cans of corned
beef, which made their load very heavy.

On the 5th of April, Lockwood reached the snow-house, and there
found Brainard and the rest, making thirteen altogether. They
completely filled the house, and also the dug-out in the snow-bank
adjoining, so that Lockwood and Jewell moved the provisions out of
the tent, and slept there, and Frederick in the tunnel. The tent
being snowed in to the ridge-pole, and connected with the tunnel,
they were quite comfortable. On the same day they saw an eagle on a
floe-berg, which was considered a good omen. After needed rest all
hands took their departure. The snow on the ice-floe was somewhat
deep, and the loads very heavy. The route across the straits,
previously determined on, was from Cape Beechy to within five or six
miles of the east shore, and then as direct as possible to Cape
Sumner. On reaching the tent on the straits, about four and one half
miles out, Lockwood dropped his load, and went back to look after
the sledges, then out of sight. He found Whistler sick and unable to
pull, and Biederbick and Connell trying to pull the load without
him—not an encouraging commencement of a long journey. Aided by the
dog-sledge, all soon reached the tent and camped for the night.
Lockwood, Jewell, and Frederick slept in the wall-tent, pitched
there some weeks before. Lockwood writes at this point: “Finding it
very cold, I was glad to get up and out, leaving Jewell to the
unhappy work of getting breakfast. (Breakfast! what a misnomer in
such cases!) I then went to the two tents occupied by the others to
inquire for healths. Mr. Henry, correspondent of the ‘Chicago Times’
(as he called himself), the same who had written on the side of a
large iceberg, ‘Ho! for Cape Britannia,’ said he could go no
farther, as he had been suffering dreadfully all night with
rheumatism; or, if he did go farther, we would have to haul him
back, while from here he thought he could manage to hobble by
himself to the snow-house, and, after resting there and again at
Depot ‘A,’ reach the station. Henry is a big fellow, over six feet
in height, with apparently the strength and physique of Hercules. It
was a bad omen for the rest of us when _he_ broke down. Connell had
frozen his feet the previous day quite badly, and only discovered
the extent of the injury after getting into camp, but thought _he_
could go on, or at least was determined to try. All hands looked
very forlorn, but generally were resolute and determined. Finally,
Jewell had the tea and canned meat warmed sufficiently, and we
stuffed ourselves with all there was to stuff, and prepared to
follow the others who had already started. We overtook Fredericks
(the saddler) struggling along in the snow with a sledge all by
himself. He was a dwarf by the side of the giant Henry. It was
necessary to do something, and so I told Jewell he must join
Fredericks, and leave the Esquimaux and me to manage the dog-sledge.
I overtook the main party about a mile and a half from camp, doing
their best. Connell could hardly walk at all, and it was utterly
impossible for him to pull. He was very reluctant to go back, but
there was no alternative; so, throwing off the load, I took him on
the dog-sledge as far as Cape Beechy, whence he thought he could get
along by himself. On returning I picked up the load, and proceeded
to follow the trail of the others. The snow soon became worse, and
the sledge so often stuck that I determined to double up—take half
the load at a time. The Esquimaux dogs can pull a very heavy load,
and through bad places, but the moment the sledge comes to a dead
halt they sit on their haunches, turn complacently round, and wait
till the sledge is extricated. If not fully started, they will pull
at random, or not at all. On these occasions the hard work comes
upon the driver and others with the sledge.”

On the 7th, they joined the other wing of the expedition, finding
them in camp some miles south-west of the gap. The wind had been
blowing and snow drifting for some hours, and everything indicated a
storm. Lockwood and Frederick pitched tent and went into camp, first
bringing up the rest of the load.

While the storm was still raging, they got off with half the load,
leaving the rest making preparations for a move, and took a course
for Cape Sumner, whose steep, rocky face loomed up in the distance,
terminated by a line of magnificent cliffs, which extended unbroken,
except by “the Gap,” as far south as Cape Lupton of Polaris fame.
They traveled upon level floes interrupted by ridges of hummocky
ice, over which they had to get the sledge as best they could, and
with frequent use of the axe. The wind blowing stronger, and the air
being obscured with driving snow, they could with difficulty pick
their way. Traveling over the straits was like navigating a ship in
a tortuous channel. They soon found themselves in the midst of a
mass of rubble-ice of the worst description; gaps and chasms between
the crags and blocks of ice, often filled with loose snow, or
entirely obscured by that flying through the air. They could barely
see the cliffs on their right, and could not recognize their
position. The dogs became very much discouraged, Frederick also, and
Lockwood himself felt in no very enviable frame of mind. After many
ineffectual efforts, and unloading and reloading repeatedly, they
left the load and attempted to explore a route to shore. Not
succeeding, they hunted for some suitable snow-drift in which to
burrow, and there await better weather; but saw none. Finally, the
storm letting up for a moment, they found a level floe, and, with
the use of the axe, Lockwood and Frederick got the sledge upon it.

On the 8th, at 3 A. M., they arrived at Cape Sumner, and, getting
through the rubble-ice near the shore, gained the steep snow-<DW72>
which lay between the foot of the cliffs and the line of immense
floe-bergs along the shore, stranded and pressed close up to the
snow-<DW72>. Between the bergs and the <DW72>, the wind had made great
gaps, deep and tortuous. The only way to get along was either
through these gaps—often like pits—or to take the <DW72> above and
run the risk of tumbling down into them, sledge and all, sometimes
fifteen or twenty feet. There was often no alternative but the
latter. Lockwood expected to find it calm there by reason of the
protection of the bluffs, but, on the contrary, the wind came down
from above in gusts and whirlwinds, filling the air with eddying
columns of snow. When about a mile from the Polaris Boat Camp, they
encountered an immense mass of snow entirely filling up the ravine
from top to bottom. Leaving the sledge, Lockwood went on to see if
he could reach the Boat Camp, but could hardly keep his feet on
account of the wind. Returning, he and Frederick made a small hole
in the side of a large drift, and, pulling in everything the dogs
could possibly eat, prepared to “weather the storm.” By 9 A. M.,
_supper_ had been eaten in darkness, for they had no candles, and
Frederick, wedged close up to him in the frozen sleeping-bag, was
snorting away like a steam-engine. Lockwood soon fell asleep too,
but woke up to find the sleeping-bag and his footgear and clothes
wet with the moisture such close quarters produced. Everything
inside was thawing. Soon after, masses of snow falling down through
a number of rents in the side and roof of the excavation, he began
to think they would be smothered alive. But while thinking about it,
he went to sleep again, leaving Frederick snorting as before. Just
how long they slept in that snow-bank, they did not know, but when
they did wake up and try to emerge, they found themselves completely
snowed in, and only got out by vigorous use of their knives, so hard
and compact had the ice and snow become. Frederick being able to
understand only signs and a very few words chiefly referring to
food, their conversation was very limited.

They found the dogs and sledge almost buried in snow. Hastily
harnessing up, they reached the Boat Camp on Newman’s Bay at noon.
Here they again went into camp by digging into a snow-bank and
covering the hole with the tent. “Skaffer,” or eating, being first
in order, they supplied themselves by thawing their prepared roast.
Then they had a smoke—that great solace of the traveler in every
clime. Snow-houses and snow-holes, they concluded, have many
objections, but they always have the merit of being warm. Feeling
uneasy about Brainard and his party, imagining all manner of things
about them, at 9 P. M., Lockwood left everything behind and went
forth with dogs and sledge to hunt them up, and at midnight met them
valiantly struggling along toward the Boat Camp. They had found
shelter from the storm behind a large, friendly floe-berg, where the
tent could stand. On the 10th, preceding them, he picked up the bags
of pemmican he had put off, and returned to Boat Camp, where they
came also and burrowed in the snow. All thus found themselves at
their first station. Jewell, being originally of the party of the
dog-sledge, lodged and fed with them when together, he sleeping in a
single bag, and Lockwood and Frederick together. “It was,” Lockwood
remarks, “a choice of evils which to prefer—Frederick groaning like
a piece of machinery, or Jewell always getting the stockings and
wraps mixed up, and invariably laying hold of the dry ones as his
own.”

“Snow-holes,” he again says, “having the insuperable objection of
asphyxiation, we repaired the tents and returned to
civilization—that is, went really into camp. Whistler and <DW12>
were found completely done up this morning both in flesh and
spirits—all kinds of pains, shortness of breath, spitting of blood,
faintness. Not being enthusiastic about going farther, I deemed it
best to send them back, and they left at once for the station.”

They now had several things to look to before going farther—to bring
up the rations sent across to the Gap, also to bring over those left
at the tent on the straits.

At midnight, Brainard and party, with three Hudson Bay sledges,
started on this work, and Lockwood left two hours after, with a
dog-sledge and Frederick, for the same purpose. Taking advantage of
smooth ice, interrupted now and then outside the pack near shore, he
soon overhauled Brainard, and they reached the Gap together. There
they found the boat, which had been sent over with so much labor, a
complete wreck. They, however, placed it out of reach of further
damage, as it might yet become important to them. They then went
into camp by going into a snow-burrow prepared there some weeks
before when the boat had been brought over, and proceeded to have a
feast, which possessed at least one merit, that of being _enough_,
for Lockwood did not deem it necessary to adhere strictly to sledge
rations till they had left their base of supplies. Leaving the
others to load up and return to Boat Camp, he and Frederick left
with the dog-sledge for the food put out on the straits _en route_.
Part of this they took up and then joined the others at Boat Camp,
men and dogs well spent and tired; but a good meal, a good smoke,
and a snooze in their bags, set them all right.

Their number was now reduced to nine, two having been sent back soon
after leaving the snow-house (Depot “B”), and two from Boat Camp.
The Hudson Bay sledges were much worn, and likely to become useless.
Lockwood now determined to return to the main station for new
runners, leaving the men under Brainard to bring up the supplies
still out, and otherwise make ready for the advance. The round trip
would be one hundred miles, and would add much to the labor of the
dogs, but there was no help for it, as he could take no chances on
the threshold of the long journey before them.

Soon after making this resolve, he and Frederick got off with their
team, carrying nothing but an axe and half a pound of tobacco. The
dogs were in fine condition, notwithstanding their recent hard work.
True, they supplemented their rations and thus added to their
strength by stealing thirty-five pounds of bacon! “It is wonderful,”
Lockwood here remarks, “what these Esquimaux dogs can do. This team,
which was regarded as a scrub affair—Dr. Pavy having had his pick of
dogs—hauled ice all through the winter, made a trip beyond Cape
Beechy in February, another to Thank-God-Harbor and Newman’s Bay in
March, and then hauled a load to Lincoln Bay and four days after
started on this present trip; yet now they travel along as lively as
ever—so lively that the driver finds it difficult to keep up.”

They duly reached the station, and, of course, Greely and all were
surprised to see them, probably taking them for another cargo of
<DW36>s. After a good sleep and a feast, they were off on their
return at 10 P. M. of the 14th. They took on the runners, a feed of
walrus-meat, a few other trifles, and also a heliograph, the last to
open communication in case of delay or disaster. Stopping six hours
at the snow-house to rest and feed, they started across the strait
with a small load of meat, and, notwithstanding some rubble-ice
which delayed them, reached the Boat Camp at 5.30 P. M., very tired
and very sleepy, too, having accomplished this remarkable journey of
one hundred miles in fifty-four hours. During their absence,
Brainard had brought in everything, and all was ready for the
advance as soon as they could repair the sledges.

After repairing and rebuilding, they had for the trip:

1. Dog-sledge, Lieutenant Lockwood and Esquimaux Frederick; total
weight, 743 pounds.

2. Large sledge (the “Nares”), drawn by Sergeants Brainard and
Ralston and Corporal Saler; estimated total weight, 651 pounds.

3. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hall”), drawn by Sergeant Jewell and private
Fredericks; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.

4. Hudson Bay sledge (“Hayes”), drawn by Sergeant Lynn and Corporal
Ellison; estimated total weight, 300 pounds.

Of this weight, 225 pounds was of equipments, independent of weight
of sledges, and 900 pounds, of food for men and dogs.

At 10.30 P. M., they left the Boat Camp and crossed Newman’s Bay, to
a ravine, or narrow valley, directly opposite, which the lieutenant
called Gorge Creek after finding it was not the route he had taken
it for—that of Beaumont’s return. The others being far behind, he
left the sledge and proceeded on alone to explore. Passing through a
narrow gap, the valley widened out as before, in some places the
exposed stones offering a serious obstacle to heavily laden sledges.
Returning, he and Frederick went back with the team and assisted in
bringing up the foot-sledges. Then, after an advance of ten miles in
eight hours, all went into camp again. Leaving the camp at 10 P. M.,
and doubling up from the start, they made their way up the valley,
through the gap, and to the head of the valley beyond. They found
the exposed stones so annoying that Lockwood regretted often he had
not taken the route round Cape Brevoort, notwithstanding the
rubble-ice. Though Lockwood felt confident he had reached the
divide, yet, throwing off the load, he sent Frederick with the team
back to assist the others, while he went ahead to further
reconnoitre. Although he ascended a high hill, he could see little
encouraging beyond. He returned to the load and continued
down-stream until he met the others painfully advancing, when all
went into camp, after making an advance of six miles in eight hours.

Got off again with half-load at 10 P. M. Preceding the others,
Lockwood and Frederick made their way over slightly undulating
plains, keeping as far as possible northward until they came to a
decided depression in that direction, sometimes following blind
leads, and then returning and continuing on their former way.
Lockwood finally saw before him the crest of the bluff of a
water-course, gaining which he found to his joy a stream running
north, which he entered. Though filled with snow, it afforded good
traveling for the dog team. Continuing down this stream, he passed
between two large masses of rock like a gateway. Here was a regular
cañon as straight as a street and nearly level, whose sides were
almost perpendicular and extremely picturesque. Seeing no signs of
the sea, he resolved to camp here. To this end, throwing off the
half load, he went back for that left behind, expecting to meet the
foot-sledges on the way. Disappointed in this, he returned to the
ravine, and at 6 P. M. he and Frederick were into their
sleeping-bags, feeling much uneasiness about their route, for they
had already traveled a much greater distance than the English maps
called for as lying between Newman’s Bay and the north coast.

Although the men with the drag-sledges had not come up, Lockwood
resolved to leave everything behind and go ahead down the cañon with
the empty sledge till assured that he was _en route_ to the sea by
finding the sea itself. Carrying out this resolve at 10 A. M., the
cañon soon widened into a valley, with deep, soft snow-bed or
stones, and inclosed by lofty mountains. He crossed this, and came
to a gorge like a railroad-cutting, through which the stream ran.
Ascending an adjacent hill, before him lay what seemed an extended
plain, which he recognized as the sea, from a line of floe-bergs
marking the coast.

Just where they were, he did not know, nor did he find out till
their return. The sea had been found, so now they were to find and
bring up the men and sledges. Lockwood and Frederick, with the
wearied team, rapidly went back and happily found the absent ones,
safely, if not comfortably, camped alongside their load.

All broke camp at 7 P. M. and proceeded to bring up such of the
impedimenta as had been left behind; after which they made their way
with great labor through the cañon, valley, and gorge to the sea,
reaching there, at 4 A. M. of the 22d, with everything except a
seal-skin mit, which got adrift and went flying before the wind over
the hills like a bird; for a terrific snow-storm was then raging.
They found great difficulty in making the tents stand, and, indeed,
abandoned the attempt except as to one, into which they all huddled
to weather out the storm. The cooking was confined to making a
little tepid tea. They remained in their bags, sleeping at
intervals, and even going without food and water rather than venture
out.

Finally, on the morning of the 23d, the storm had abated, and they
ventured out, to find that the dogs had taken advantage of the
circumstances to eat up twenty pounds of bacon and twelve pounds of
beef, although these had been secured, as was supposed, at the
bottom of a sledge. They had also eaten a seal-skin mitten. After
some repairs to the sledges, which had suffered by the stony route
passed over, they proceeded on their way along the coast, keeping on
the ice-foot which here ran along a low, sloping shore backed by a
range of hills. At Drift Point, the snow formed steep <DW72>s,
extending from the bluffs (now near the sea) to the tops of the line
of floe-bergs along shore. There, the sledge “Nares” breaking down,
it was necessary to abandon it and increase the loads on the other
sledges, carrying along the good parts of the “Nares” to repair the
others when needful. Doubling up, they made their way along those
steep <DW72>s until near Black Horn Cliffs. Here the <DW72>s became so
abrupt that they were driven on to the rubble-ice near the shore. So
difficult was their way over this with the heavily loaded sledges,
that in many places by standing pulls only could progress be made.
Near these cliffs they went into camp after bringing up the
half-loads left behind, having advanced five miles in eight and a
half hours. Leaving half their stuff, they then made their way over
the rubble-ice, frequently using the axe, till they came to the end
of the cliffs, when the sledges went back for the rest of the stuff,
while Lockwood looked for a more practicable route. Off shore, half
a mile seaward, he found a fair route, following which he reached
Cape Stanton. He thought Stanton Gorge, where Beaumont had left
forty rations, to be near. These, however, he failed to find. After
taking a short nap in the lee of a hummock, he returned to find
Frederick and the dog-sledge. The others coming up, all went into
camp fully tired out, for, besides the roughness of the ice, they
had encountered a stiff wind. Two ptarmigans were seen near Cape
Stanton.

On the 25th of April Frederick declined breakfast—evidence of
something wrong with him. Lockwood, therefore, resolved to go up to
a gorge he had seen the previous day, and there go into camp and lie
over a day. Frederick could hardly walk, and hence rode when it was
possible. Finding a snow-<DW72> inside the hummocks, they made good
progress and reached “Gorge Rest” in one hour. In the mean while the
sun came out, and the air became calm and warm, affording a good
opportunity for drying wet clothes and bags. Lockwood gave a drink
of brandy to Frederick, and then displayed Mrs. Greely’s silk flag,
as they had now attained a point higher than any American had before
reached. In the afternoon, Jewell and Ralston succeeded in finding
Beaumont’s _cache_ farther on, and, as proof of their discovery,
brought back a can of rum marked “Bloodhound,” the name of his
sledge. It was about there that his first man was sent back with the
scurvy. Afterward, when all but two had the disease, they had to go
on or die in the traces.

On the 26th, Frederick was well, otherwise he would have been sent
back. They built a _cache_ and left one day’s ration for men and
dogs; also, to lighten load, snow-shoes, head and foot gear,
blankets, indeed everything they could do without. They reached
Stanton Gorge, dropped load, and Frederick was sent back with the
team for the rest of their stuff. The men came in without doubling,
having also found Beaumont’s _cache_ on a high hill. They all agreed
that such unnecessary labor was enough to bring on the scurvy. They
found there fifty-six pounds of pemmican, ten pounds of bacon, and a
large box containing bread, potatoes, chocolate, tea, sugar,
onion-powder, and stearine used for fuel, all of which were taken on
to Cape Bryant. Beyond this point, to Cape Stanton, their route lay
along the foot of steep snow-<DW72>s beneath the cliffs, with lines
of floe-bergs and hummocks outside, and was exceedingly rough.
Lockwood and Frederick, after crossing Hand Bay, passed the men
moving slowly and laboriously. Their troubles were increased by
frequent upsettings of the sledges along the <DW72> and by the
friction of the splintered bottoms owing to the runners cutting
through.

It was not till 8 P. M. that they all reached Frankfield Bay, and,
thoroughly tired out, went into camp, after an advance of nine miles
in thirteen hours.

Here they cached one day’s rations for all, and then traveled along
the low shore which skirted the base of Mount Lowe, and came upon
the snow-covered surface of Frankfield Bay, a small and pretty
harbor surrounded by steep mountains. Beyond this bay, they crossed
a spit of land, going up a steep <DW72>, and down another equally
steep at a run. There they threw off a half load and went back for
the rest. Afterward all proceeded with half-loads, Lockwood taking
his post at the traces and pulling with the men. After a while he
dropped off to help Frederick, while the men went on to Cape Bryant.
Taking advantage of an interval of leisure, he got out the lamp and
made just two pint-cups of tea for Frederick and himself. “Of all
the occasions,” he says, “when a draught of tea tasted particularly
good, none like this lingers in my memory. Though without milk and
with very little sugar, it tasted like nectar. In fact, as the gods
never undertook any Arctic sledge-journeys, their nectar was not
half so delicious.”

On the 27th, Lockwood shot five ptarmigans or Arctic quails. Sitting
on a floe-berg, they were scarcely distinguishable from the snow.
The traveling on that day was on the whole fair; yet so heavily were
the sledges loaded, and so much worn, that when, after making
fifteen miles in twelve hours, they reached Cape Bryant at 8.30 P.
M., both men and dogs were nearly exhausted. To add to their
joylessness, they had to be very sparing of their rations.
Cracker-dust was with them the grand panacea for short rations. This
went into every stew, was mixed with their tea, and was even taken
alone, and found to be very _filling_. By its aid, they persuaded
themselves that the short allowance was a hearty repast.

On the 28th, Brainard and others made an unsuccessful search for a
_cache_ left there by Beaumont, but got a good view of Cape
Britannia from a high cliff. Lockwood and Jewell also saw it from a
height back of the camp. Beaumont had seen Cape Britannia, but never
reached it. He got only thirty miles farther than Cape Bryant; that
is, to the opposite side of the fiord which here appears, and which
they called “Beaumont’s Fiord.” While Frederick brought up some
stores left behind, Lockwood busied himself with many details
connected with his further advance toward the north, for now his
supports were to leave him and return to the Boat Camp, while
Brainard, Frederick, and himself, with the dog-sledge, were to
proceed alone.

Lockwood now satisfied himself by a careful inspection of the
sledges that the supporting party could go no farther, especially as
some of the men were suffering with snow-blindness. He therefore
broke up one of the sledges, and with it repaired the remaining
drag-sledge and the dog-sledge. Brainard, also suffering with
snow-blindness, remained in the tent, while Lockwood with the others
built a _cache_ and deposited therein the Beaumont stores and such
others as they could not take on. Food for the return party to Boat
Camp having been dropped _en route_, he decided to take with him
twenty-five days’ rations. Hence their advance must be limited to
the time these rations would feed them, going northeast and
returning to Cape Bryant.

He started, therefore, with—

  Men-rations, weighing            230  pounds.
  Dog-pemmican, weighing           300     ”
  Equipments, weighing             176     ”
  Dog-sledge, weighing              80     ”
     Total                         786     ”

or about 98 pounds to each dog.


The weather, though cold, causing some frost-bites, had been
beautiful during their stay here. The men had done their parts well,
and had endured uncomplainingly much hard work, hardship, and
exposure. The supporting party left at 4 P. M., after hearty
hand-shaking and wishing good luck to Lockwood, Brainard, and
Frederick, leaving the three lonely and depressed on that desolate
shore.

And now, as the returning party disappeared in the distance, the
explorers turned toward Cape Britannia. Although they started with a
very heavy load, yet the traveling was fine, and, all three pushing,
they made rapid progress, having Cape May directly ahead and across
the fiord. The dogs seemed to object to going over the sea, and kept
deflecting constantly to the right, the only difficulty arising from
the deepening of the snow and its becoming soft. When they got
stuck, Brainard would pull at the traces, while Lockwood would push
at the upstand, and Frederick divide his energies between helping
them and inducing the dogs to do so.

At 1 A. M. on April 30th, they camped on the fiord, well satisfied
with their advance of sixteen miles in eight hours without once
doubling.

Moving off at 5 P. M. with full load, they had not gone far before
they were forced to throw off half of it, and soon with this half
they found it difficult to get along, for the sledge would sink down
to the slats and the men to their knees through the deep, soft snow.
Lockwood could fully appreciate poor Brainard’s efforts and labors
in a fiord at the southwest, when he crawled through snow
waist-deep, and on hands and knees, for two hundred yards. At 9 P.
M. they came to hummocks, pitched tent, threw off load, and, while
Lockwood prepared supper, the others went back with the team to
bring up what they had thrown off. They had to adhere strictly to
the allowance, for they had rations for just so many days. They had
advanced six miles in seven hours and three quarters.

They started again the next morning with full load, but soon had to
pitch off again. Had better traveling, on the whole, than on the
previous day, though meeting with ranges of old floes and hummocks
filled in with snow. Shortly after midnight, they came abreast Cape
May, the desire of Beaumont, but which, with his crew broken down
with scurvy, and with heavy sledges loaded down with all kinds of
equipments, he never attained. The party pitched tent near an
immense floe extending as far back as the eye could reach. Brainard
and Frederick went back for the dismounted stuff, while Lockwood
turned cook again, the first thing being to pulverize a lot of ice
and set it on the lamp to melt. Cape Britannia and Beaumont Island
were very distinctly seen, the latter from refraction double. Their
allowance of alcohol was a constant source of trouble. They could
not afford meat for both breakfast and supper, hence their supper
consisted of tea, cracker-dust, and bean-stew. Advanced twelve miles
in fourteen hours.

Lockwood and Brainard now took turns in cooking, Frederick being
excused. The two former did not sleep well, and, as usual, the
Esquimaux blew his trumpet loudly, but not sweetly. They left at 7
P. M. with full load, but as usual threw off a portion, leaving
Brainard with it. Toward midnight they came to an open crack in the
ice ten feet wide, through which sea-water could be seen below, and
had to follow it several hundred yards before coming to a crossing.
Thinking this a favorable chance to get a deep-sea sounding, they
threw off the load, and Frederick went back for Brainard and the
balance of the stores, while Lockwood got into a sleeping-bag and
read “King Lear” until their return. In sounding, they ran out all
the line they had, then four coils of seal-thongs, then some rope,
and finally Frederick’s dog-whip, and got no bottom at eight hundred
and twenty feet. They began to haul up after debating whether they
should not risk the dog-traces, when, presto! the rope broke, and
all below was lost. Leaving their treasures in the deep, they moved
on with half-load over a low line of hummocky ice having the same
general direction as the crack, namely, toward Beaumont’s Island.
Beyond was an unbroken field of snow extending apparently to Cape
Britannia. Ice being required for supper, they went into camp on the
hummocks, going back, however, for the stores left behind, having
advanced eight miles in ten hours.

After taking bearings, they broke camp at 4 P. M., and, with a full
load, proceeded over the level snowfield, broken here and there only
by hummocks trending in a curve toward Cape Britannia. Until
midnight the snow-crust sustained the sledge, but after that,
failing to do so, they had to reduce load. Wind and snow coming on,
they camped near a small ice-mound, after advancing fourteen miles
in fourteen hours, and again brought up the stores left behind.

The next morning proved clear and calm, and gave them a full view of
the long-desired cape, which they reached at 8 P. M., pitching tent
on the ice-foot—four miles in one hour and a half. Lockwood had read
so much of scurvy, deep snows, etc., as associated with
sledge-journeys in the experience of the English expedition, that he
had come to regard them as inseparable from such enterprises. Yet
here they were, at a point which Beaumont saw only from afar,
without the first and without serious difficulty from the others.
Cape Britannia had been the _ultima Thule_ of Beaumont’s hopes, and
quite as far as Lieutenant Greely expected Lockwood to reach. But he
was able to go much farther, and would do so. He built a cairn, and
deposited a record of their journey to date, also rations for five
days for use on their return, the spare sledge-runner, and
everything they could do without. Leaving Frederick to see that the
dogs did not eat up the tent and everything in it, Lockwood and
Brainard climbed the adjacent mountain, two thousand and fifty feet
high, to view the magnificent prospect spread out before them from
that point. “We seemed,” Lockwood writes, “to be on an island
terminating some miles to the north in a rocky headland. To the
northeast, seemingly twenty miles away, was a dark promontory
stretching out into the Polar Ocean, and limiting the view in that
direction. Intermediate, were several islands separated by vast,
dreary fiords, stretching indefinitely southward. Extending halfway
round the horizon, the eye rested on nothing but the ice of the
Polar Sea; in-shore, composed of level floes, but beyond, of ridges
and masses of the roughest kind of ice. The whole panorama was
grand, but dreary and desolate in the extreme. After erecting a
monument, we were glad to escape the cold wind by returning.”

While here, Lockwood took several astronomical observations. They
broke camp at 7 P. M., and traveled northward over smooth ice free
from snow, to the promontory, where they came in sight of the
distant headland northeast, which they had seen from the
mountain-top. Hearing a low, moaning sound, and looking to the
north, they saw a line of hummocks, and near it their old
acquaintance, the tidal crack, stretching in one direction toward
Beaumont Island, and in the other, curving toward Black Cape, as
Lockwood named the headland northeast of them. Repairing their
sledge, which had given way, they proceeded toward this headland,
having fairly good traveling though somewhat obstructed by soft and
deep snow, and camped at midnight near a hummock and not far from
the crack, from which Frederick tried, without success, to get a
seal. This would have relieved his mortified feelings at the loss of
a ptarmigan he had shot at the cape, and which Ritenbank had stolen.
Took observations for latitude and longitude before turning into
their sleeping-bags. Advanced eleven miles in five hours.

The observations were repeated next morning, and they then went on
their course. After going a considerable distance, they halted to
rest and to view the tide-crack, now near them and about one hundred
yards across, filled in here and there with young ice or detached
masses. This crack was incomprehensible, differing from those seen
in the straits, which were near shore and so narrow as to attract
little attention. Frederick gave Lockwood to understand by signs and
gestures that after a while the ice outside, or north of the crack,
would move oft seaward. Resuming their way, they soon after passed
Blue Cape, and thence crossing a small fiord got to Black Cape, the
bold, rocky headland they had seen from the mountain. Beyond Black
Cape, and in the same general direction, but seen indistinctly,
appeared a dark, rocky cape, which Lockwood called Distant Cape,
because, seeming so near, it was yet so far, as they afterward
found. At Black Cape were seen bear-tracks, also those of the fox,
hare, and lemming, in great numbers. The tide-crack here came near
the shore, and then extended directly across to the next cape. The
ice along shore indicated having sustained enormous pressure. Great
bergs and hummocks, weighing thousands of tons, had been pushed upon
the ice-foot like pebbles.

The ice-foot offering better traveling, they followed that course,
though it took them somewhat away from Distant Cape. Leaving it,
they crossed what seemed to them a little bay, but it took them one
hour and a half to reach the cape on the farther side. Seeing a
large fiord intervening between them and Distant Cape which they had
wished to reach before encamping, they gave up the effort and
pitched their tent. Soon after, Frederick shot a hare, but only
wounding him, they had to expend all their remaining strength in
running him down. But food was now everything, and they spared
neither the hare nor themselves. They called that point Rabbit
Point, in memory of the friend who served them a good turn. Advanced
seventeen miles in ten hours.

Having, on account of a snow-storm, failed to get the sun on the
south meridian, Lockwood waited until it should come round to the
north meridian, as this matter of observations was important, and
difficult to attend to _en route_. In the mean time, they cached
some rations. Saw some ptarmigans, but failed to shoot them. Left
near midnight, and having crossed the hummocks thrust in against all
these capes, reached the level surface of an immense bay which they
were two and one quarter hours in crossing, after untold labor and
fatigue, through deep snow, so wet that they seemed to be wading
through soft clay. They reached the opposite shore, bathed in
perspiration, Lockwood going in advance to encourage the dogs.
Sometimes they went down waist-deep. The mass of hummocks came up so
near the cliffs as to force the travelers outside. Still, Distant
Cape was farther on, with a fiord intervening. At four o’clock, they
reached this long-sought point, and looked ahead to see what lay
beyond. Away off in the same general direction (northeast) was seen
another headland, separated from them by a number of fiords and
capes, which lay on an arc connecting Distant Cape with that in the
far distance. Inclining to the right, they made their way toward one
of these intermediate capes. Sometimes seeing it and sometimes not,
they finally reached it at 6 A. M., and, being unable to see
anything ahead, went into camp. Soon afterward a pyramidal island
loomed up through the storm in the northeast. They enjoyed part of
their rabbit for supper, almost raw, for they had no alcohol to
waste on luxuries, and carefully laid away the other half for
further indulgence. But Ritenbank saw that half rabbit stowed away,
and he too liked rabbit, as will be seen. After supper Lockwood made
observations, and of trials and tribulations this was not the least.
Face chilled, fingers frozen, and sun so low as to require him to
lie in the snow; the sun like a grease-spot in the heavens, and
refusing to be reflected; snow-drifts over artificial horizon cover;
sextant mirrors becoming obscure, vernier clouded, tangent-screw too
stiff to work; then, when one had nearly secured a contact, some dog
interposing his ugly body or stirring up the snow; such were some of
the difficulties to be overcome. Still, these observations must be
made, and carefully and correctly made, or otherwise the chief value
of the expedition would be lost. They secured double sets of
observations here, which delayed them, but got off near midnight
from this cape, which Lockwood called Low Point, and made good time
toward the dim headland at the northeast. In two hours and a half
they reached the cape, which he named Surprise, because they came
upon it unexpectedly looming up through the gloom. Beyond and to the
right was seen through the storm a dome-capped island, the
inevitable inlet intervening. The traveling proving good, they
reached it at four, and found it to be the end of a long line of
grand, high, rocky cliffs, bearing far to the south.

The ice-foot here being free from snow, the dogs took the sledge
along at a trot, and the explorers rode by turns—the first time
since leaving Boat Camp. The trend of the coast-line becoming nearly
east, Lockwood began to think the time had come for leaving the
coast and striking off directly toward the pole, as arranged for in
his orders. As this was a matter requiring full consideration, he
stopped to get an observation, but, defeated in this by the drifting
snow, they went into camp at 6 A. M., having advanced seventeen
miles in less than seven hours.

After sleeping, Lockwood rose to take observations. While so doing,
and hence out of the tent, he heard a noise in it, and suspected
mischief. Sure enough, there was that old thief, Ritenbank, coolly
eating up the remains of the rabbit they had kept for a second
feast. A dash and a blow, and the dog scampered off, dropping part
of the animal in his flight. They had reached the state of not being
particular about what they ate, so they gathered up the remains and
ate them on the spot.

Resuming their journey at 1 A. M., they traveled under a long line
of high cliffs, with hills in the rear. The travel was excellent,
but the weather abominable—high winds, with falling and drifting
snow. After three hours of progress in an easterly course, a
headland was seen obliquely to their left, between which and
themselves lay a wide fiord. After an observation of the sun, they
struck directly across this fiord for the headland in question,
which they finally reached after repeatedly losing themselves in the
mist and gloom. Here they stopped awhile to eat pemmican and view
the surroundings. Found many rabbit-tracks, but saw none of the
animals. In Arctic traveling, one craves warm meat, but seldom gets
any but that which is frozen. Continuing along this coast over a
good ice-foot, they were pleased to see on their left a small island
with a high, narrow ledge, a few hundred yards long. This they
reached and went to the north side or end of it. Mist and snow
shutting in the land farther on, and also that already passed, they
camped, having advanced twenty-two miles in nine and a half hours.

Finding traveling so troublesome in the storm, and much difficulty
in getting observations, Lockwood resolved to remain there for
better weather, all sleeping as much and eating as little as
possible. Indeed, Brainard agreed with Lockwood that, if the
easterly trend of the coast should continue, they had better spend
their time in going directly north over the sea. On the 11th, it
being still stormy and no other land in sight, they remained in
their sleeping-bags on the island, which from its shape was first
called “Shoe Island,” but afterward “Mary Murray.” All of them
suffered greatly with cold feet in the mean while; and, although
Lockwood’s feet were wrapped in blankets, furs, and socks, they were
like lumps of ice. To husband their few rations, they had eaten very
little of late, and doubtless to this may be attributed their cold
feet. The dogs were ravenous for food. When feeding-time came, it
was amid blows from the men and fights among the dogs that the
distribution was made. Old Howler was conspicuous on these
occasions. That he might secure all he could, he bolted ball after
ball of the frozen mass, and then would wander around, uttering the
most unearthly howls while the mass was melting in his stomach. He
was, indeed, a character. He had an air of utter weariness and
dejection, as well he might, for who can be more miserable than the
dethroned monarch, jeered, cuffed, and condemned by his late
subjects? One day one of the dogs swallowed a live lemming, and the
little animal went squealing all the way down to the corporation.

The weather clearing up a little the next morning, Lockwood took sun
observations, and soon after saw a cape with very high land behind
it, at the northeast. But the storm setting in again, they could not
attempt to cross the mouth of the deep fiord intervening between
them and the cape until nearly two hours after midnight. The
traveling being good, and aided by a high wind, they made good time
across the fiord toward the cape, alternately visible and invisible,
and reached it in two hours. This cape proved to be the extremity of
a line of high, rocky cliffs, stretching toward the southeast. Here
they found the ice-foot entirely obstructed by lines of floe-bergs
and hummocks pressed up nearly to the foot of the cliff, and to add
to their difficulty, the tide-crack ran here close to the cape. With
great labor they got the dogs and sledge upon a hummock, thence
along its surface, using the axe, and finally lowered them down
again, and, by a bridge over the crack, gained a level floe half a
mile beyond the cape. There, finding a branch crack twelve or
fifteen feet wide, Frederick went forth to seek a crossing, while
Lockwood and Brainard obtained a peep at the sun for position. The
fog rising, the grandest view they had yet seen was suddenly
disclosed. To their right were seen the high cliffs connected with
the cape just passed, bending to the southeast to form an inlet.
Away beyond and across this inlet, and east of them, was the farther
shore—a line of very high cliffs, terminating in a bold headland
northeast of their position. Back of the cape and cliffs, the land
became higher and higher, till, just east of the travelers, stood a
peak apparently four thousand feet high. Between them and the cliffs
below the peak was seen an island of pyramidal shape and quite high.
The explorers made good time toward it, over a level floe, as some
hummocks and tide-cracks at the mouth of the inlet prevented them
from going direct to the cape. Thence, after a short rest and a
relish of pemmican, they took their way toward the cape, now
standing nearly north of them. Soon the snow became so deep and soft
that the sledge often sank below the slats, the dogs to their
bellies, and the men to their knees. Fortunately, the load was very
light, and yet, had not the deep snow soon after become dry and
feathery, they could not have proceeded. It was then that Lockwood
promised himself never to undertake another sledge-journey, a
resolve afterward easily forgotten when in camp with a full stomach.
Time, rest, plenty to eat, and a good smoke, sometimes make
philosophers, was the reflection recorded. About noon, after
changing their course around an easterly bend of the cliff, they
came to what might be regarded as the northern extremity of the
cape, beyond which lay the inevitable fiord. Here they camped on the
ice-foot, below a mass of picturesquely  rocky cliffs, and
essayed, but failed, to get observations. Their advance was sixteen
miles in ten hours.

On the 14th of May, occurred a storm so violent that it seemed as if
the tent must be blown down. Ritenbank took advantage of it to
burrow under the tent and lay hold of a bag of pemmican, but a
timely blow on his snout “saved their bacon.” After discussion with
Brainard, Lockwood concluded to go no farther, as their remaining
rations would hardly suffice to enable them satisfactorily to
determine their present position. While waiting for the sun that
this might be done, they improvised a checker-board from the
chopping-board, and played some games. After a while, finding that
the cliffs somewhat interfered with the observations, they moved the
tent farther west, stopping to build a cairn, large and conspicuous,
and depositing a full record of their journey and a thermometer.
This cairn stood on a little shelf or terrace below the top of the
cliff. Brainard also cut “XXX Bitters” on the highest rock of the
cliff he could reach, Lockwood telling him he only wanted to get a
bottle for nothing on the strength of his advertisement. They were
engaged until midnight, chiefly in taking observations and in
collecting specimens of rocks and vegetation. Some snow-birds were
seen.

The next morning the weather became warm, beautiful, and delightful,
the sun bright and sky clear, and there was no wind—surely a bit of
sunshine in a shady place.

[Illustration: Taking Observations at Lockwood Island.]

They took advantage of this to bring out hand-gear, foot-gear, bags,
and rubber blankets to dry, everything having been damp or wet for
nearly a week. Lockwood and Brainard got but a few short naps after
supper, for it was necessary for one of them to be awake to insure
their getting up at the right time to take “double altitudes,” etc.
They secured a complete set of observations, thirty-six in all. A
few hours later, Lockwood and Brainard started to make the ascent of
the cliffs and of the height beyond. They gained a considerable
elevation, and stood on a little plateau overlooking both sides of
the promontory, the sea, and a large extent of mountainous country
to the south thickly covered with snow. Lockwood unfurled Mrs.
Greely’s pretty little silk flag to the breeze, and felt very proud
that, on the 15th day of May, 1882, it waved in a higher latitude
than was ever before reached by man. By careful astronomical
observations under peculiarly favorable circumstances, they found
themselves in latitude eighty-three degrees and twenty-four and a
half minutes north, longitude forty degrees and forty-six and a half
minutes west of Greenwich, thus surpassing the English, who sent the
Nares Expedition of 1875-’76, costing upward of a million dollars,
for the express purpose of reaching the north pole, and which
expedition sent its chief sledge-party directly north over the ice
for the purpose of making _latitude alone_. The view from their
lofty station was grand beyond description. At their feet, toward
the east, was another of those innumerable fiords, a bald headland
forming its farther cape, bearing northeast. Seemingly projecting
from its foot was a low point of land, doubtless separated from
another by still another fiord. This was as far as Lockwood could
see in that direction—probably fifteen miles. Thence round toward
the north and in the direction of Cape Britannia lay the vast Polar
Sea, covered with ice and desolate in the extreme. Toward the south
lay a vast panorama of snow-capped mountains, so overlapping and
merging one into another that it was impossible to distinguish the
topography of the country. They stayed on the top only twenty
minutes, and at 4.50 reached camp again, greatly to the delight of
Frederick. He had seemed a good deal “down at the mouth” of late,
which Brainard thought was caused by their long distance from home
and the absence of dog-food and “skaffer.” Hastily packing up their
small load, they started on their return at 5.30 P. M. Though taking
a more direct course across the first fiord, they met with soft
snow, which was very tiresome to pass through. The weather now
commenced to cloud up again, threatening another storm. It was very
fortunate that they reached their farthest just in time to take
advantage of the thirty hours of fine weather. However, they were
now homeward bound, and did not care for storms or anything else,
provided they could “_move on_,” nor did they require any policeman
to help them in that particular.

And now that Lockwood is returning from his special expedition in
safety and good health, a few additional facts and a passing
reflection on his exploit will not be out of place. Lieutenant
Lockwood’s motives in undertaking this special expedition, in which
he was so successful, he explained in these words: “My great wish is
to accomplish something on the north coast of Greenland which will
reflect credit on myself and on the expedition. But there are many
ifs in the way—many visible contingencies on which success depends,
as well as many invisible ones which have never suggested
themselves. Among the former, scurvy stands like a giant, and if
this giant attacks us, far from accomplishing anything, we may not
ourselves get back.” As we think of Lockwood, at the end of his
journey, with only two companions, in that land of utter desolation,
we are struck with admiration at the courage and manly spirit by
which he was inspired. Biting cold, fearful storms, gloomy darkness,
the dangers of starvation and sickness, all combined to block his
icy pathway, and yet he persevered and accomplished his heroic
purpose, thereby winning a place in history of which his countrymen
may well, and will be, proud to the end of time. Of all the heroic
names that have blossomed on the charts of the Arctic seas during
the present century, there is not one that will hereafter be
mentioned with more pride and enthusiasm than that identified with
Lockwood Island, memorable as the nearest point to the north pole
ever reached by man.




                                XII
             FROM LOCKWOOD ISLAND TO LADY FRANKLIN BAY.


When returning to Lady Franklin Bay, Lockwood and his companions
reached Shoe Island shortly after midnight. They deposited a record
in the cairn there, and proceeded to the cape west of the island,
where they went into camp, after a retreat of twenty miles in eight
hours. Lockwood suffered much from his eyes, having evidently
strained them while endeavoring to see the sun during the late
stormy weather. The cold food, upon which alone they could depend,
seemed to weaken the stomachs of all the party, and yet they plodded
on. At Storm Cape, they left the grand line of cliffs behind, and
took a compass course across the great fiord, amid a storm as before
when they crossed that inlet. As usual, the dogs thought they knew
best, and Frederick thought he knew best, so the compass received
little consideration, and they inclined too much to the left, being
three hours and twenty minutes in crossing. They stopped at a cairn
and deposited a record. In another hour they reached Pocket Bay, and
in another, Dome Cape, and then, crossing the inlet, went into camp.
“Skaffer” was soon ready, cold chocolate, and a stew with lumps of
ice floating round in it, particularly unfortunate after a march
which was perhaps the most uncomfortable of the trip. It had been
blowing and snowing all day directly in their faces—very severe on
snow-blind eyes, which it was necessary in crossing the fiords to
keep open in order to see the way. In addition to this, strange to
say, Lockwood suffered with cold hands. Generally, while traveling,
they were warm enough, and only got cold when stopping; but on that
day they were aching with cold a great part of the time. The dogs
had eaten up his seal-skin mits some time before, and the woolen
ones gave little protection against the storm, with the mercury 30°
below zero. They found the ice-foot now generally covered with snow,
but they retreated twenty-seven miles in eight hours and forty
minutes. Left camp shortly after 5 P. M., and, passing Cape
Surprise, struck directly across the fiord for Distant Cape. When
opposite their old camp at Low Point, a glacier was seen in the
interior, a green wall of ice lying at the foot of what looked like
a low, dome-shaped hill, but which must have been a mass of ice
covered with snow, as is all the interior of this country. The
travel over the floe was quite good, but when just beyond Distant
Cape, they found themselves in the deep snow of the wide fiord to
the west of it, a part of the route they had been dreading for some
time. They finally, however, reached the farther side. The dogs must
have smelled the pemmican in _cache_ there, for, during the last two
hundred yards, they bent all their energies to the work and seemed
wild to get ashore. They pulled the sledge through a fringe of
hummocky ice at the coast in a way that proved how they _could_ pull
when they set their hearts on business. The weather during the day
was variable. When they started, it was quite thick, and the wind
blew strongly in their faces, making the traveling very
disagreeable; but toward the latter part of the march, the wind died
away and the sun appeared. The traveling was better than when
outward bound, the late storm having improved it very much. Brainard
did all the cooking, Lockwood chopping the ice and assisting in
various ways. They got off a little after six, and in two hours were
at Black Cape. Here they stopped awhile and built a cairn, and at
Blue Cape stopped again. The next four and a half hours they pursued
their monotonous course across the floe, Lockwood indulging in these
reflections: “What thoughts one has when thus plodding along! Home
and everything there, and the scenes and incidents of early youth!
Home, again, when this Arctic experience shall be a thing of the
past! But it must be confessed, and lamentable, it is, as well as
true, that the reminiscences to which my thoughts oftenest recur on
these occasions are connected with eating—the favorite dishes I have
enjoyed—while in dreams of the future, my thoughts turn from other
contemplations to the discussion of a beefsteak, and, equally
absurd, to whether the stew and tea at our next supper will be hot
or cold.”

They next camped some miles from North Cape, opposite the immense
fiord there, which runs inland an interminable distance without
visible land at its head. Lockwood had intended going up this fiord
to what seemed like the opening of a channel on the south side of
Cape Britannia, but the uncertainty and their fatigue finally
induced him to continue the way they had come, the weather being
delightful. Ritenbank went about all day with his head and tail
down, perhaps repenting his numerous thefts. Advanced seventeen
miles in eight hours.

Left camp at 6 P. M., and in about three hours reached North Cape,
where they stopped some time to take a sub-polar observation, making
its latitude 82° 51′. Cape Britannia was reached without event, and
there they stopped long enough to get the rations left in _cache_,
and deposit a record in the cairn; then continued on the floe a
half-mile to get out of the shadow of the mountain. At the cairn
they got the snow-shoes left there, and the spare sledge-runner.
They also collected some specimens of the vegetation and rocks, and
saw traces of the musk-ox, showing that these animals wander even
this far north. They saw also some snow-birds. They had thought that
when they reached Cape Britannia they would feel near home; but now
having reached it, the station seemed as far off as at any point
they had left behind, and they could not rest until Cape Bryant was
reached.

The sun was very bright and warm when they left camp at 9.50 P. M.,
but a heavy fog hung like a curtain on the horizon, and shut out the
land all around. They were, in fact, traveling on the Polar Sea, out
of sight of land. Shortly after starting, Lockwood put on snow-shoes
to try them, and found immense relief at once. He blamed himself
every day for a week for not having tried them during the journey
out, and thus saved himself many hours of the most fatiguing travel
through deep snow. Brainard, seeing the advantage, put on the other
pair, and from that time there was nothing about which they were so
enthusiastic as the snow-shoes. They afterward wore them more or
less every day. At 6 A. M. they went into camp on the floe. The fog
by this time had disappeared, and everything was singularly bright
and clear. Advanced sixteen miles in eight hours, and got off again
a little after 8 A. M.

It was a beautiful day, calm and clear, and the sun was really too
warm for dogs and men. They got along very well, however, on the
snow-shoes, and one of the men keeping ahead to encourage the dogs
and make a straight course, they finally reached, at the place they
had crossed before, their old friend, the tidal crack, now frozen
over. They lunched regularly every day on pemmican and hard bread,
and rested whenever tired. A beautiful parhelion was seen, one of
the most complete yet observed, in the perfection of its circles and
the brightness of its colors. The blue, yellow, and orange were very
distinct. They went into camp after four, the weather cloudy and
threatening snow, having advanced sixteen miles in eight hours. They
left again at 8.40 P. M. Snow falling, and no land being in sight,
they kept near the right course by means of the compass. Their
course was north-west (magnetic), the variation being in the
neighborhood of ninety degrees. Went into camp near St. George’s
Fiord at 4.40 A. M., suffering a good deal from snow-blindness
afterward. During the march were troubled very little, strange to
say. Rations were now getting low. The snow was very soft, and,
owing to this and the warm sun, the dogs “complained” a good deal.
Advanced sixteen miles in eight hours. Started off again at 8.40 P.
M., reached shore shortly after twelve, about three quarters of a
mile short of Cape Bryant, and, following the coast, pitched tent at
the old camping-ground. After visiting the cairn on the hill, they
determined to make up arrears by having a royal feast—anticipated
for many days. “How nice that English bacon must be! How superior
that English pemmican to the abominable lime-juice pemmican!”
Brainard made a generous stew out of the aforesaid, with a liberal
allowance of desiccated potatoes, etc., and they “pitched in!” But
oh! what disappointment! Before eating a half-dozen spoonfuls they
came to a dead halt, and looked at each other. Even Frederick
stopped and gazed. The dish was absolutely nauseating. “Oft
expectation fails, and most where most it promises.” Fortunately,
there was left there a tin of frozen musk-ox meat, with other stores
rendered surplus by the supporting party being able to go no
farther. After this _feast_ on the English stores, they confined
themselves to the musk-ox. The English pemmican, though a little
musty, when eaten cold was quite palatable. This and the bacon were
each put up in metallic cases. The bacon they subsequently found to
be inclosed in _tallow_, and this it was that made their feast so
disappointing. After this they all went to look for Lieutenant
Beaumont’s _cache_, left here when his party was disabled by scurvy.
The search was unsuccessful, although they traveled the coast for
two miles and a half, advancing twelve miles in four hours. Getting
up at twelve, Lockwood and Brainard went out to the tide-crack about
half a mile from shore, and, by means of a rope and stone, undertook
to get a set of tidal observations. They kept up the observations
for nearly twelve hours, and then becoming satisfied that their
arrangements did not register the tide, owing to the depth,
currents, etc., gave it up, much disappointed. All their work went
for nothing. These observations made their eyes much worse, and both
suffered with snow-blindness all the rest of the way.

While thus occupied, the dogs took advantage of their absence to
visit the _cache_ and eat up part of a sack of hard bread and half a
dozen shot-gun cartridges—the shot and the brass being rather
indigestible. They left camp after midnight and a beautiful morning
followed, calm and clear, the sun unpleasantly warm; and no wonder,
since Lockwood was wearing three heavy flannel shirts, a
chamois-skin vest, a vest of two thicknesses of blanket (double all
round), a knitted guernsey and canvas frock, besides two or three
pairs of drawers, etc.

They tramped along on snow-shoes, and a couple of hours after
starting, Brainard, who was on the hill-side to the left,
discovered, with his one unbandaged eye, relics of Beaumont—an old
Enfield rifle, a pole shod with iron, a cross-piece of a sledge,
three or four articles of underwear, some cartridges, sewing-thread
and thimble, and the remains of a shoe with a wooden sole about an
inch thick. Other articles mentioned by Lieutenant Beaumont in his
journal were not to be found. They may have been carried off by
animals or buried in the snow near by. The articles found were in a
little bare mound near the ice-foot. “Poor Beaumont! how badly he
must have felt when he passed along there with most of his party
down with scurvy, dragging their heavy sledge and heavier
equipments!” Farther on, Lockwood shot a ptarmigan on top of a large
floe-berg thirty feet high, and, by taking advantage of a snow-drift
and doing some “boosting,” they secured the bird. They stopped at
_cache_ No. 3 (near Frankfield Bay) and took out what the supporting
party had left there. Gave the dogs the lime-juice pemmican and
ground beans, but it was only by seeming to favor first one dog and
then another that they were induced to eat it, thus illustrating the
advantage of their “dog-in-the-manger” spirit. Went into camp on the
east shore of Hand Bay. Their buffalo sleeping-bag now began to feel
too warm, but was always delightfully soft and dry. Eyes painful.
Advanced twelve miles in ten hours. After crossing Hand Bay they
made a short stop at Cape Stanton. The Grinnell coast now became
very distinct, and seemed home-like. They could see Cape Joseph
Henry, or what they took for that headland. The floes off shore,
consisting of alternate floes crossed by ridges of hummocks, made
very laborious traveling. On reaching the _cache_ near Stanton
Gorge, they got the rations left there. The traveling continued very
difficult and tiresome. On reaching the Black Horn Cliffs, they
decided, as their old tracks were entirely obliterated, to follow
along under the cliffs, instead of taking the wide _détour_ they had
made going out. They got along pretty well for a while, and then
reached a mass of hummocks and rubble-ice. There they found a relic
of the past—a towel which the men had used to wipe the dishes, and
had lost or abandoned. By dint of hard work they got through this
bad ice, crossed the smooth, level floe adjoining, and then came to
the next patch of rubble-ice. After proceeding through this some
distance, the sledge needing relashing, Lockwood went on alone with
the axe, making a road as he went. Found the site of their old camp
on the shore, but, as the snow <DW72> there had become impassable, he
kept along the coast on the floe and finally found a landing several
miles to the west. Sledge and all got here at eight o’clock, and
they continued on over the snow <DW72>s, passing the remains of the
“Nares” sledge and reaching Drift Point, where they went into camp
alongside a big floe-berg, with lots of icicles upon it waiting for
them, having advanced twenty-two and a half miles in ten hours.
Finding strong winds and snow from the west, they delayed starting
till almost midnight. The ice-foot along this low, sloping shore
being excellent, they made good time, in an hour reaching the place
of their first camp on this coast. The melting of the floe-bergs and
the fall of the snow had so changed the general aspect, that the
place was hardly recognizable. At 2 A. M. they came opposite the
break in the cliff where they had entered on the coast in April.
They soon made out the dark object seen previously from this point
to be a cairn, and discovered a small bay which they knew must be
Repulse Harbor. Crossing this bay, they reached the cairn at three
o’clock. It was a tremendous affair, and the tin can inside was full
of papers by Beaumont, Dr. Coppinger, and others. As a cold wind was
blowing, Lockwood made a short-hand copy of the documents and left
the originals.

Lockwood’s eyes filled with tears as he read the last postscript of
the several which followed the main record of poor Beaumont. Sitting
on these bare rocks amid snow and wind, with a desolate coast-line
on one side, and the wide, dreary straits on the other, he could
well appreciate what Beaumont’s feelings must have been when he
reached here with his party all broken down with scurvy, and, after
trying to cross the straits and failing on account of open water,
had no other recourse but to try and reach Thank-God Harbor. His
last postscript reads thus:

“Repulse Harbor Depot, June 13, 1876.—Three of us have returned from
my camp, half a mile south, to fetch the remainder of the
provisions. D—— has failed altogether this morning. Jones is much
worse, and can’t last more than two or three days. Craig is nearly
helpless. Therefore we can’t hope to reach Polaris Bay without
assistance. Two men can’t do it. So will go as far as we can and
live as long as we can. God help us!
                                       (Signed)    “L. A. Beaumont.”

He and Gray were the only ones left, and both shortly discovered
scorbutic symptoms.

Chilled through, Lockwood now continued along the coast to the west,
following the ice-foot under a grand line of cliffs. After a while,
they came to a narrow break or cleft in the cliffs, the gateway of a
small mountain-torrent. It was like a winding and dark alley in a
city, with vertical sides rising to the height of several hundred
feet. Entering it, they presently came to an immense snow-drift,
probably fifty or more feet high and filling up the gorge like a
barricade, with another a little beyond. They returned to the
sledge, thoroughly satisfied that Beaumont never went through that
place. About seven they came to what seemed to be the “Gap Valley”
of the English, a wide, broad valley, extending due south about
three miles to a ravine. They therefore turned off from the coast
and followed it, encountering a good deal of deep snow and bare,
stony spots. At 11 A. M. they camped in the ravine near its head,
thoroughly tired out. They now had only one day’s food left, and it
behooved them to make Boat Camp in another march, even though fifty
miles off. Advanced seventeen miles in eleven hours. The dogs for
several days had been on short allowance, and during their sleep
tore open the bag of specimen rocks and stones, but fortunately did
not chew them up as they had done the cartridges.

Getting off at 3.29 and crossing the table-land, they struck a
narrow gorge running precipitately down to Newman’s Bay. At its head
was a mountainous drift of snow, which they descended on the run;
then came a number of smaller drifts, completely blocking up the
gorge, over which they had to lower the sledge by hand. Near the
bay, they discovered a singular snow-cave one hundred feet long, and
occupying the entire bed of the stream, arched through its whole
length by beautiful ribs of snow, from which depended delicate
snow-crystals. The entrance was quite small, but inside, the roof
was far above their heads. They lost sight of its picturesqueness in
the thought of its fitness for the burrow of a sledge-party. This
brought them on the smooth surface of the bay, with familiar
landmarks before and around them—Cape Sumner, Cape Beechy, and far
in the distance, Distant Point and the land near Franklin Bay.
Looking back at the ravine from the bay, Lockwood felt sure no one
would ever take this little, insignificant, narrow gully for the
route of a sledge-party, and that no one traveling this, or the one
they took going out, would ever take either again in preference to
going round Cape Brevoort. They delayed along the shore of the bay
almost an hour, leisurely building a cairn and viewing the scenery,
and then going on, reached the farther side at eight o’clock, making
their last final retreat of ten miles in five hours and a half.
There was the whale-boat, and pitched alongside it, anchored down by
stones and held by ropes, the six-man tent of the supporting party.
Inside were Sergeants Lynn and Ralston, and Corporal Ellison, fast
asleep. Lockwood had told Lynn to send back to Conger three of his
party on reaching Boat Camp. The remaining three awaited his return.
The work of pitching tent woke up the other party, and soon they
heard the sound of the Polaris fog-horn (picked up near by), and saw
three heads projecting from the tent, whose owners gave them a warm
welcome, as well they might, after awaiting their return nearly a
month at this place, the dreariest of all in that dreary region. The
remaining stores were ransacked for a big feast, without regard to
the rations. Corned and boiled beef, canned potatoes and beans,
butter, milk, and canned peaches, made a meal fit for a king or for
gods that had just experienced an Arctic sledge-journey. The
monotonous life of these men had been varied only by a visit from
two bears, and the arrival of Dr. Pavy—sent by Lieutenant Greely
with some rations.

The news from the station was that Dr. Pavy with Sergeant Rice and
Esquimaux Jans had got only as far as Cape Joseph Henry, when they
were stopped by open water. Lockwood had taken it for granted that
the doctor would attain Markham’s latitude and excel his own.
Lieutenant Greely had been west from Fort Conger on a trip of twelve
days in the mountains, and had discovered a large lake with a river
flowing out of it, which had no ice on its surface—something very
wonderful. The vegetation had also shown a much milder atmosphere
than anywhere else in these latitudes. Numerous Esquimaux relics had
been found, and many musk-oxen seen.

Turning their backs on the Boat Camp, and with many loud blasts on
the Polaris fog-horn, they started at 11.25 P. M. for Fort Conger.

The snow along the snow-<DW72>s was badly drifted, but with so many
to help, they got along without much delay and soon reached Cape
Sumner. They found the rubble-ice south of that point worse than
before, and here and there were little pools of water. The weather
was very thick, the wind blowing and snow falling, and the farther
side of the straits completely hidden, so that they went _via_ the
Gap, but there had to leave the shore and direct their course as
well as possible by compass. Presently they could see neither shore,
and got into a mass of rubble-ice, mixed with soft snow-drifts. Lynn
and party (Ralston and Ellison) had not traveled any for so long
that they began to get very much fatigued, and could not keep up
with the sledge. They had not slept since the arrival at the Boat
Camp, owing to the excitement of the occasion. The driving snow hurt
their eyes, and they were a very sorry party. However, they kept on,
and finally came in sight of the west coast, and some hours
afterward, finding good floes to travel over, a little before noon
reached the “tent on the straits”—about five miles from Cape
Beechy—Ellison and Ralston completely exhausted.

_En route_ again, they spread the American flag on a long pole and
carried it thus till they reached the station. At the snow-house,
where they remained some hours to rest and get something to eat,
they found Ellis and Whistler, who had come up from Fort Conger to
look out for the party.

All found their eyes more or less affected excepting Frederick.
Ralston’s were so bad that he was sent on in advance, led by Ellis.
He walked almost the whole way with his eyes closed. Lynn held on to
the upstanders of the sledge, and thus found his way.

On the first day of June, Ralston and Lynn went in advance, led by
Ellis and Ellison. They could not see at all, and, as their guides
carried the guns and each had his man made fast by a strap, they
looked very much like a party of prisoners. At Watercourse Bay they
met Lieutenant Greely, who had come out to meet them, and was well
satisfied with the result of the expedition, and soon after they
reached Fort Conger.

Lieutenant Lockwood not only received many hearty congratulations
from his companions, but even the weather, as if in sympathy with
the general gladness, became bright and cheerful. The important
business of working out the latitude that had been attained was now
proceeded with. Efforts were made to verify the prismatic compass
which was serviceable, but had a limited range. Much of the ground
around the station was bare of snow, and, as the temperature was
rising rapidly, Lockwood felt as if he would like to be off again on
a wild tramp. When he said something about certain sledge operations
in the future, Greely replied, “If you are content to go, I will
give you all the help I can.”




                               XIII.
                       WAITING AND WATCHING.


To a man of Lockwood’s character, the return to the station did not
mean that idleness was to be the order of the day, and while yet
suffering from rheumatic pains in his back, shoulders, legs, feet,
and joints, he began to mark out a trip for himself through Lady
Franklin Bay. In the mean time, some of the men were off trying to
obtain fresh meat, Frederick killing a hare and Jans a seal weighing
over five hundred pounds. Kislingbury amused himself with a pet owl,
which delighted him with a present of eggs. On the 9th of June, the
people at the station celebrated the birthday of their companion
Long by a good dinner, and on the following day Lockwood,
accompanied by his friends Brainard and Frederick, started with a
dog-train for his proposed tramp. They made their first halts at
Basil Norris Bay and at Sun Bay, and traveling over a level bed of
what had once been a fiord, thence passed on to Stony Point, and
then to Miller’s Island, where they encamped. Although they saw a
number of seals, they succeeded in killing only a couple of hares
and a brace of brants. Their next stopping-place was Keppel’s Head,
the route being very wet, in fact, almost a continuous lake. Having
nothing to wear but his moccasins, Lockwood’s feet were saturated
three minutes after starting, and became so cold that he thought
they would freeze. The pools were sometimes so deep as to wet the
load on the sledge. However, the dogs made good time, and they
reached Keppel’s Head at 11 P. M. Here the traveling became much
better, and they were able to avoid a good many of the pools.

Passing Keppel’s Head, they kept a sharp lookout for Hillock Depot,
where Lieutenant Archer, R. N., had left a large number of rations.
They searched for some time before finding any signs, but finally
found the _cache_, and near by some pieces of United States hard
bread, and a little bag of American tea. This was interesting, as
proving that to have been the farthest that Long attained, although
he claimed to have reached the head of the fiord. The unpleasant
task then devolved on Lockwood of taking him down a peg or two.
Lieutenant Archer was a week reaching this place, Hillock Depot,
half-way up the fiord, which is about sixty miles long. The scenery
is grand. High cliffs, generally nearly vertical, ran along the
shores everywhere. Whenever they looked inland they saw a lofty mass
of snow-covered mountains. All this was so common, however, in all
the region, that it was only when _new_ that it was appreciated.
Lockwood and Brainard had a good laugh at Long’s expense, and then
turned into the two-man summer sleeping-bag, made of two blankets,
trimmed off so as to weigh no more than necessary, and inclosed in
another bag of light canvas. Their breakfast consisted of corned
beef, baked beans, tea, hard bread, and butter—a very fine repast.
Lockwood and Brainard both thought that this kind of traveling did
not pay on a “picnic” excursion, but, as they had started to go to
the head of the fiord, they did not like to turn back. The ice
promised to be worse on their return, and this, and Lockwood’s lame
foot, and the lameness of one of the dogs, decided him to return.
Leaving camp on return, they soon reached Keppel’s Head, and
afterward Basil Norris Bay, where they camped, and decided to remain
a day or two and have a hunt for musk-oxen. Mud, water, and
“sludge,” as well as Lockwood’s lameness, proved a drawback to his
success; but Frederick returned from his tramp, bringing along a
quarter of a musk-ox, having killed two and wounded a third, he
said. They seemed to have cost two dozen cartridges, and he had
probably stood off at a distance and bombarded them.

Brainard returned after him. He had been up the vale as far as the
lake, and had seen a few geese and a rabbit. He brought back a
“skua” bird and some Esquimaux relics; had seen several circles of
stone, marking the summer camps of these people, and picked up a
good many bones, etc. All had something to eat, when the two started
out with the dog-team for the musk-oxen killed by Frederick. Then
came on a heavy rain, lasting for several hours, while the snow and
ice were fast disappearing. This was the first rain they had seen in
the country.

During their absence from the station, to which they returned with
their game, seven musk-oxen had been killed and four calves caught
alive. The men had had an exciting time. The animals formed a hollow
square with the calves inside, and did some charging before they
were all down.

The calves had been put in a pen a short distance from the house,
were very tame, and it was supposed little difficulty would be found
in raising them. They ate almost anything.

On the 17th, Lockwood expressed his feelings as follows: “I find
myself oppressed with _ennui_, caused, I suppose, by the present
monotonous existence following the activity of my life since the
early spring.”

On the 22d of June, a “turn-stone” (a bird of the snipe species) and
two or three ducks were shot. The little stream back of the house
was babbling along at a great rate, the snow fast disappearing.
Temperature 44°, which was about as high as it was likely to be, the
sun having reached its greatest northern declination, and the
temperature not having gone above this during the previous August.

On the 24th, Lieutenant Greely and a party left for Hazen Lake and
beyond, to visit the western coast of the country if possible. In
the mean time, the dogs having attacked the young musk-oxen, came
near killing one of them. The dog King and two others were found on
top of “John Henry,” the smallest of the calves, and, but for
Frederick happening to see them and going to the rescue, “John
Henry” would soon have surrendered his ghost.

During a walk on the 28th, Lockwood found North Valley River quite
full, and rushing along like a mountain-torrent. Open water-pools
were numerous near the shore. Had a fine view from Cairn Hill, two
thousand feet high, seeing extensive lanes of open water toward
Petermann’s Fiord. Weather delightful.

On the 1st of July they had the second rain of the season, and
Lockwood was gloomy; existence extremely monotonous; he was almost
ashamed to confess how “blue” he felt. Ducks and other fowl brought
in almost daily; also Esquimaux relics frequently brought in. Men
arrived from Lieutenant Greely’s party on Lake Hazen and reported
all well there. He had found many interesting relics, and had seen
large droves of musk-oxen—between two and three hundred—in Black
Vale. On the 4th the men at the station celebrated the day by
displays of flags, shooting and other matches, and a base-ball game.
They succeeded in getting the Lady Greely afloat, and Cross repaired
pipes found to be out of order. They found that the flies were
blowing their fresh meat badly. Fearing that it might be lost, it
was ordered to be served more frequently. Long and Ellis, who had
returned from St. Patrick’s Bay, reported it as open.

Lieutenant Greely and party returned on the 10th from Lake Hazen.
They had a good view westward for fifty miles from a mountain four
thousand feet high; saw no sea, but many glaciers. Found a large
river entering the lake at its southwestern extremity.

Lockwood took the launch down to Dutch Island, giving all the men an
excursion. But for entertainments of this sort he was afraid he
should forget how to talk. The officers often went through a meal
without exchanging a word; so also through the day. He could not say
who was in fault.

Loose ice was still filling the harbor and bay—paleocrystic floes
that had floated in.

Brainard and Cross brought in eleven ducks killed at Breakwater
Point, having to swim in order to get them.

Weather now mild, ice in harbor much broken up, and channel outside
open. Lieutenant Greely thought there was every reason for expecting
a relief-ship soon. It was very desirable on many accounts that she
should come. A false alarm of her approach created great excitement.
Some one said he saw her smoke in the distance.

The hunters brought in ducks or other game almost daily. A weasel
was shot near the house—a beautiful little animal, yellow with black
tail. Dead wolves were sometimes found—probably those poisoned in
the winter. Brainard, Cross, and Ellis returned from Beechy, where
they killed three musk-oxen, two dozen geese, and some ducks.

Lockwood occupied himself on his maps of the Greenland coast, adding
pictures of scenery from sketches taken _en route_.

Jans, desiring to capture seals, tried to approach them by
interposing a cotton screen. But the seal had too much sense to wait
for him, and slipped off the ice into the water.

On the 31st, Lockwood measured some ice-floes aground in the harbor,
finding them to be fourteen feet thick. He had seen many on his
northern trip which, by Nares’s rule of one seventh above water,
would have been thirty-five to forty-five feet thick. Of course,
these were paleocrystic floes, the accumulation of years.

On the 7th of August, Lockwood went with Lieutenant Greely and a
party in the launch to Cape Lieber, finding the bay very free from
ice. Left near the cape some provisions for use in case of having to
retreat next year in boats, a subject which, from the non-arrival of
the ship, was then agitated. They got many Esquimaux relics. The
straits away down as far as Franklin Island and Cape Constitution,
as seen from an elevation, were free from ice. They could see
nothing to prevent the ship from coming. Returned in the evening,
landing at Proteus Point, because a large floe-berg had floated in
during their absence and occupied their harbor.

Lieutenant Greely did not expect the ship before the 15th. Many eyes
were daily fixed on the bold profile of Cape Lieber, from behind
whose rocky face she must emerge, if she came at all.

On the 13th, Lockwood, with Brainard, Lynn, Cross, Ralston, and
Fredericks, started in the launch on an excursion up Lady Franklin
Bay to the head of Archer Fiord, having in tow the boat Valorous
with Rice and crew as far as Musk-ox Bay. There they left Rice and
his boat and proceeded up the Archer Fiord, somewhat annoyed by
scattered ice and by some large bergs which they had to go around.
They had not gone far up the fiord before they saw, on a gentle
<DW72> of the southern shore, a herd of musk-oxen grazing a few
hundred yards from the water. Though strategy was employed to
approach without being seen, the herd took the alarm and scampered
over the hills which terminated the <DW72>. Lynn, anticipating this,
had gone some way up these heights, but the animals by a _détour_
avoided him and soon passed over the crest of the heights. The <DW72>
along there was sufficiently gentle to afford foothold to grass and
willows, and thus presented a landscape charming to those who had
gazed on little other than rocks and ice for so many months. Seeing
two other oxen some time after, near a steep hill overlooking a
rocky gorge, Lockwood, Brainard, and Frederick went for them,
Fredericks approaching in front, and Lockwood and Brainard, by a
flank movement, cutting off retreat. This resulted in the slaying of
both animals. But how to get them to the launch was the question, as
they were then a mile inland. Finally, cutting off the heads, they
gave the bodies an impetus down-hill. They went from steep to steep
like comets, leaving clouds of dust behind. Once or twice they
lodged on steps or terraces, from which they were dislodged, thence
to renew their journey downward. Afterward several other musk-oxen
and some ptarmigans were shot, thus providing abundant food for all
hands, with a large surplus to carry back to the station.

As they progressed up the fiord, the scenery became more and more
grand and interesting. A glacier was seen some distance inland, at
the head of a stream bordered by vertical cliffs curiously 
and of fantastic shapes. One pinnacle was apparently surmounted by
an old dilapidated castle. Though the fiord was not wide at Bulley’s
Lump, nor the cliffs very high, yet they encountered a furious wind,
as though blowing vertically. Toward the head of the fiord, they saw
numerous ducks and flocks of geese on shore, apparently overcome by
the force of the wind. Many of these they added to their abundant
stores. Here, too, they found Esquimaux relics, indicating the
abodes of men long years ago—circles of stones, very old; also
pieces of drift-wood, whence coming they marveled. Reaching the head
of the fiord, where the water became shallow, they landed, spread
their sleeping-bags on the rocks, and made amends for their
twenty-five hours’ want of sleep.

Waking up, they found that the receding tide had left them high and
dry by one quarter of a mile. This rendered Lockwood very uneasy,
and induced him to give up his intended journey of half a dozen
miles into the interior. He went, however, a mile or so inland, and
from a height saw a lake, and several miles above it a glacier,
apparently very large. Vast cliffs, three thousand feet high,
bordered the valley or ravine he followed, and beyond these were
snow and ice clad summits of vast elevation. Yet here, in this
desolate region, were seen proofs of the abode of man—circles of
stones covered with lichens, a proof of their antiquity. Here, also,
he found the hip-bone of some immense mammal, and afterward added it
to his museum. He returned to the launch near the time of high tide,
and after lightening, they got the launch into deep water, with much
labor, but greatly to their relief. On their return they visited
Record Point, left a short account of their visit, and copied that
of Lieutenant Archer. He had explored this fiord in 1876, occupying
one month, but they did it in sixty-nine hours. He traveled with
sledges and a supporting party—they with a steam-launch, all being
on board. Their coal getting low, they made few other stops _en
route_ except to pick up their meat and game, returning direct to
the station. The result of the expedition, as to game, was, twelve
musk-oxen, three hares, twenty-four geese, thirty-six turn-stones,
six knots, three terns, and twenty ptarmigans. Distance made, going
and returning, one hundred and forty miles. Long and others killed
numbers of musk-oxen during their absence, so that they now had on
hand about eight thousand pounds of fresh beef. Another musk-ox was
killed, soon after their return, in full view of the house, and thus
four hundred and thirty pounds were added to their stock. This was
the eightieth musk-ox shot since their arrival, the year before.
They had a good view of the bay and straits, both of which seemed
open, offering no obstacle whatever to the passage of the ship. They
were all very much disappointed at her non-appearance.

Lieutenant Greely, wanting Howgate’s Fiord explored and surveyed,
and Dr. Pavy wishing to make an excursion from Cape Baird, Lockwood,
on the 21st, left in the launch, with Rice, Cross, Lynn, Fredericks,
Snyder, and Israel, and with Dr. Pavy and Ellison as passengers, to
land the doctor on the south shore, and thence proceed westward to
Howgate’s Fiord. Following a lead westward, they finally found open
water, which enabled them to reach the south shore of the bay some
five miles above Cape Baird, where they landed the doctor and
Ellison, with their rations, etc. In crossing the open water, they
had strong south winds, and heavy seas which boarded the launch and
washed her from stem to stern. Though much strengthened against ice,
when heavily laden she sat too near the water to be a comfortable
sea-boat. Thence they proceeded to Miller Island, where they had
smooth water, and were enabled to cook their food and enjoy an
excellent meal. They found much ice in Howgate’s Fiord, yet, after
trying to kill a musk-ox seen on shore, made their way to Ida Bay,
at its head, and proceeded to the north shore, for Israel to lay out
his base-line and take angles, and Rice to take photographs of
prominent objects. While they were so doing, the others started in
pursuit of a musk-ox some distance from the shore. The animal,
seeing them, went up the valley at a rapid rate, leaving behind him
so strong a musk odor as to mark his wake as distinctly by the smell
as that of a steamboat is marked by the eye. Lockwood abandoned the
chase for other duties, but the men kept on, and afterward brought
in the animal’s carcass. These having returned, and Israel and Rice
having finished their work, all proceeded toward a very high, and
conspicuous promontory, marking the entrance to the bay, which
Lieutenant Greely wished Lockwood to ascend, and afterward go up the
northern arm of the fiord; but they were unable to do either, having
been brought to a full stop in the narrow channel by an immense floe
of old ice. They therefore returned out of this _cul-de-sac_ to the
south shore, where Israel wanted to take other angles. Here they
found traces of Esquimaux habitations—meat _caches_, and various
bone implements, all very old. Thence, _via_ Miller’s Cape, they
made their way to Stony Cape, not, however, without great difficulty
because of moving ice, which sometimes forced them too close to the
island, and compelled them to make _détours_. The weather
threatening, they did not stop to take other angles, but crossed to
the head of the bay, near the Bellows, and cast anchor; and, while
the others slept, Lockwood walked up the Bellows in quest of game,
but saw none.

The vegetation was just sufficient to remind him of the glorious
trees and grasses of another zone far, far away. Still, with all its
desolation, Lockwood thought it a very picturesque region, and that
perhaps the moon, to one on its surface, presents a similar aspect.
They left for the station on the 25th, encountering much ice all the
way. Off Cape Clear it whirled about in such a manner as to threaten
to crush the launch. At one time a large piece of ice—larger than
the launch itself—was caught between the moving pack and the
grounded ice and thrown up into the air fifteen feet. Finally, they
reached the station, sadly disappointed not to see the masts of the
hoped-for ship. They could not divine the reason for her
non-appearance. Dr. Pavy thought that it never started, for want of
an appropriation. Lieutenant Greely thought otherwise. It looked
then as though they would have to retreat in boats during the next
summer, and might fail to meet the ship in the channel; or, on
reaching Littleton Island, find she had not been there, and then
undoubtedly all of them would perish.

A fine salmon-trout of three pounds and three quarters was caught in
a net about this time, and, while Rice tried to obtain more,
Brainard went to Depot “B” on a hunt for musk-oxen and other game.

On the 26th, Lockwood went across Lady Franklin Bay in the launch
after Dr. Pavy. Saw many seals, but failed to secure any. Found the
doctor and Ellison awaiting them, forlorn enough. They had reached
Carl Ritter Bay, seen musk-oxen, and discovered some lakes. Lockwood
left more stores over the bay, and returned through much ice. It was
pleasant to see how readily the launch cut through the young ice
then forming in the midst of falling snow.

On the 28th, Lieutenant Greely, desiring some further exploration up
Ella Bay, and inland from its head, Lockwood and a select party made
several attempts in the launch to accomplish it; but the young ice
was forming so rapidly, there was so much pack-ice, and the snow was
obscuring the atmosphere so badly, that Lieutenant Greely, after
some hesitation, decided they had better not go, and, instead,
requested them to take the long-boat Valorous to Cape Baird and
leave her there, and then lay up the steam-launch for the winter.

This they attempted to do, but, on reaching Dutch Island, had to
give it up, as the entire harbor, bay, and straits were full of
drifting ice, many of the floes standing five feet out of water. The
launch having been left at anchor near the island, the next morning
Lieutenant Greely ordered all hands down to the island to rescue her
from impending peril. They found her very much careened and half
full of water. She had been anchored in shoal water, and, heeling
over at ebb-tide, had filled at the next flood. Fortunately, no harm
was done to the boat, which might yet prove to be their salvation,
and should be got into safe winter quarters, as that season was
evidently already setting in. It was after this boat excitement that
Lockwood indulged in these reflections: “I find myself constantly
reading over old letters brought with me and received at St. John’s,
though read before again and again. The effect is depressing,
bringing too strongly into view home and the dear ones there. I am
oppressed with _ennui_ and low spirits, and can’t shake off this
feeling, partly induced by the cruel disappointment of _no ship_.”

Subsequently he wrote, “Have been reading of Kane and his travels.
He is my _beau idéal_ of an Arctic traveler. How pitiful that so
bold a spirit was incased in so feeble a frame! Why is Nature
inconsistent? In the Arctic his health seems to have been fair. He
of all his advance party escaped the scurvy. It was his spirit,
doubtless, that kept him up. Hayes does not compare with him. Though
beautifully written, there is an air of exaggeration about Hayes’
book, which destroys its interest. Doctor Pavy, who has hitherto
been the advocate of Hayes, since his return from Carl Ritter Bay
seems to have changed his mind about him, and now agrees with Greely
and me that Hayes never reached Cape Lieber. To have done so, he
must have performed in part of his journey ninety-six miles in
fourteen hours—an impossibility.

“The life we are now leading is somewhat similar to that of a
prisoner in the Bastile: no amusements, no recreations, no event to
break the monotony or dispel _ennui_. I take a long walk every day
along shore to North Valley with that view, study French a little,
or do some tailoring, now doubly necessary, as our supply of
clothing is getting low. Our stock of reading matter, unfortunately,
is limited except in Arctic books. One must live up here within
himself, and is unfortunate if dependent on others for happiness.
The others are as moody as I am—Greely sometimes, Kislingbury
always, and as to the doctor, to say he is not congenial is to put
it in a very mild way indeed. But why not study? Well, the
atmosphere is not conducive to it. I must go on another
sledge-journey to dispel this gloom. Lieutenant Greely was thinking
of sending me to Lake Hazen to continue his explorations, but thinks
the snow too deep. I will make a trip to the Bellows, and follow up
the cañon at its head.

“The hilarity in the other room is in marked contrast to the gloom
in this. For several days the skating on the young ice of the
harbor, now three inches thick, has afforded pleasure to the men.
Israel broke in some distance from shore, and, being unable to get
out by himself, would have perished but for the aid of others who
saw him after he had been in the cold water fifteen minutes.
Biederbick is constantly chaffed by the men for his persistent
gunning expeditions, from which he always returns empty-handed. He
takes everything seriously, and hence resents with warmth any
insinuations against Germany, particularly if his own little
principality of Waldeck be assailed. Biederbick tried to poison some
foxes, and boasted of his plans. A fox having been caught by some
one else and killed, Henry placed the body near Biederbick’s poison,
first placing within its mouth a paper stating (as though written by
the fox) how and where he met his death. Soon after Biederbick
inspected his poison, and finding the fox, brought him home in
triumph. Henry gravely declared the fox had not been poisoned, much
to Biederbick’s amazement. They proceeded to examine the fox, and
Henry pulled from its throat the certificate that had been placed
there. The men around laughed at Biederbick’s expense, and he
wilted.”

The foregoing allusion to Dr. Kane can not but be read with special
interest, as it gives one an insight into the noble character of
Lockwood, who had the heart to appreciate a man like the discoverer
of Grinnell Land. Both, indeed, were men of rare and exalted
qualities, whose memories will always be treasured with respect and
affection by the whole American people.

An effort was made under Lieutenant Kislingbury to raise, from
calves caught, a herd of tame musk-oxen. They became very docile and
tractable, even to the extent of hauling in teams. The chief
difficulty was to keep the dogs from them. One of these calves was
seriously wounded by them, and was therefore killed. It was rumored
that its meat would be served for dinner, and some of the men, to
carry out the joke, hung the quarters on the meat-rack near the
house. When other meat was served for dinner, Fredericks, who had
cared for the calf and named it John Henry, ate nothing—very proper
conduct for a man of feeling and a hater of jokes.

Lockwood frequently went to the observatory with Israel to get some
insight into the workings of the magnetic instruments. On
“term-day,” the instruments were read every five minutes during the
twenty-four hours, and for one hour every twenty seconds. “Poets
write of the constancy of the magnetic needle,” said Lockwood,
“while in fact it is the most inconstant thing known. Not only does
it vary yearly, but monthly, daily, hourly, yea, every minute and
second. Here the magnetic disturbances are very pronounced, and at
times the magnetic needle is apparently almost beside itself. The
aurora, too, has frequently a very noticeable effect upon it.”

It was now becoming a matter for discussion that, should they be so
unfortunate as to have to spend a third winter in this region, they
would have to live on salt meat and hard bread. Dr. Pavy said they
were already getting short of many articles of food, and of some
they were entirely out—short of sugar and also of candles and
foot-gear, of the latter, only a few pairs of cork-soled boots,
unfitted for use in these parts, remaining. Lockwood felt that he
would rather take any risks in boats than stay there another winter.

The weather, which had been variable, having settled calm and clear,
Lockwood started on his proposed sledge trip up the “Bellows” with
Jewell, the Esquimaux Frederick, and an eight-dog team. Having young
ice most of the way and no load, they made rapid progress to the
tent at Basil Norris Bay. The dogs moved at a gallop, giving to all
the rare opportunity of a ride. Here they found sleeping-bags and
provisions. The next morning they reached Black Rock Vale and
followed the windings of its stream-bed until they came to Lake
Heintzelman, a beautiful body of water, or rather ice, perfectly
smooth and free from snow, filling the whole valley, some three
miles wide, to towering cliffs, and extending about five miles. So
smooth was the surface that the dogs could have pulled a ton.
Feeling rather chilly, they all held on to the upright of the sledge
behind, and were dragged along on the soles of their shoes. Reaching
the head of the lake, and finding the way so rough as to endanger
the sledge-runners, they deemed it best to go into camp and
reconnoitre before proceeding farther. While Lockwood and Jewell got
supper, Frederick went on a hunt for musk-oxen. The former afterward
followed with the team to bring in the game which he had killed,
first skinning and cutting it up, not an easy job, as they had only
a very dull hatchet and equally dull case-knives. They finally
succeeded, however, after much labor, and returned to camp at a late
hour. The ox killed was the only one seen, although it was
there—three miles above the lake—that a hundred had been formerly
seen. The following morning being chilly and the sky overcast, they
returned to the tent at Basil Norris Bay, the dogs carrying the men,
as well as nearly four hundred pounds of meat, over the smooth lake
at a rapid rate.

While crossing they heard an unusual noise, like distant thunder,
which at first they were unable to account for, but finally
concluded was due to the cracking of the ice, arising probably from
changes of temperature. The whole expanse of ice was marked by
cracks extending in every direction, not, however, coming to the
surface, but visible below.

In returning to the station, they avoided some rough places by
hugging the south shore of the harbor, a rumbling noise of moving
and crushing ice being heard in the direction of Dutch Island. On
reaching the station, they found that a large bear had visited the
house, dragging off the skeleton of a musk-ox which Dr. Pavy had
hung out to dry as a specimen. Tracks of another bear were afterward
seen near the house. At Lieutenant Greely’s request, Lockwood with
others followed these tracks, came in sight of the animal, and saw
him make his way toward the middle of the straits through leads of
open water and over hills of ice with seeming ease. Of course, they
failed to add bear-meat to their well-stocked larder.

After enjoying a hot bath, which Lockwood commended as a grand
luxury, he penned the following from his corner in the
station-house:

“The men have added a bagatelle-board to their other sources of
amusement, and sometimes have bagatelle tournaments. Lieutenant
Greely and I often play chess, and sometimes I take a game of
checkers with the Esquimaux. These, by-the-way, seem much better
reconciled than they were last winter. Probably have come to
understand us better, and we them.

“Much of my time has been occupied in making maps of the several
launch trips and in writing out stenographic notes. Still, the
monotony here is dreadful, and tells on all. It certainly does on
me. Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Kislingbury spend much of their time in
the other room, and, when in here and Lieutenant Greely absent, are
engaged in the most gloomy prognostications as to the future, and in
adverse criticisms on the conduct of the expedition. It is really
dreadful, and I sometimes think the life of an exile in Siberia
preferable to this. The absence of light without keeps us
within-doors, and the want of exercise and fresh air promotes
restlessness. Our supply of books comprises only novels and Arctic
literature. A few really solid books of history, biography, essays,
etc., are much to be desired, though, under the circumstances, I
suppose it would be difficult to concentrate one’s mind on them.

“Our experiment with calves had to be given up. All died but one.
Long took that to Dutch Island, but it would not stay. Like the
human animal, the poor thing wanted sympathy and something to love,
and followed him all the way back, notwithstanding all he could do
to restrain it. Tame foxes and tame owls have also been given up.
The former bit their keepers, the latter ate each other up. The dogs
multiply rapidly, and would increase faster, but that the pups are
eaten by the old ones. I saw the mother of a dead pup keeping
Ritenbank from swallowing it, while she hesitated whether or not she
would do the same thing herself.

“We are again building around our house with ice, which proved such
an addition last winter, and the double sashes to the windows have
been put in. I have added a side-board to my bunk and covered the
adjacent walls with paper, thus adding to the warmth. Much may be
done to mitigate the evils of this climate. The moral and social
evils are what we can not meet, or rather do not repel.”

Mrs. Greely’s birthday was again observed, chiefly by a good dinner
with wine furnished by Lieutenant Greely. Lockwood’s own birthday
was also celebrated in like manner, when he recorded the following:
“After dinner Lieutenant Greely and I had a long talk—reminiscences
of army-life, speculations as to our retreat in boats, etc. When
alone, my mind turned to the dear ones at home and the many warm
friends I had elsewhere, and to the happy days spent with them.

[Illustration: Lockwood’s Corner.]

“My corner, which is the coldest of all the corners, was improved by
covering floor and walls with paper. I also found an improvement by
adding side-boards to the bunk, and finally by converting the bed
into a regular sleeping-bag. Before this was done, I sometimes
became very chilly during the night after the fires went down. Our
lamps now burn all day. How wearisome this constant artificial light
becomes, we know from the experience of last winter. I dread it
under our present social relations. Even Lieutenant Greely refers to
these as intensifying what would otherwise not much distress him. My
daily routine is somewhat as follows: Breakfast at half-past seven,
with scarcely a word spoken by any one. Then I smoke, standing by
the stove in the cook’s room. Afterward, tailoring or some other
work. At noon, a walk to Proteus Point if possible. Afterward, read
or sleep till dinner at four. Again smoke as before. Then a few
games of chess with Lieutenant Greely or checkers with the
Esquimaux. Then read a little French or a good deal of whatever I
find most interesting. Then to my army-bunk, to sleep till next
morning, when the same routine is repeated.”

On the 20th, he made a trip to Depot “B” with some of the men and
two dog-sledges to bring down the musk-ox meat left there in
_cache_. They found the foot-ice near shore so rough that they had
to keep well out, but still they made the eighteen miles in six
hours, which may be regarded as fair traveling with dogs.

They met many bear-tracks, but old, probably made by the same
animals that visited the station. They found that these animals, and
also foxes, had found their meat-_cache_ and had done much damage,
four quarters of meat and fifteen geese having been eaten by them or
taken away. Returning next day with what remained, and taking in
more meat at St. Patrick’s Bay in still worse condition, they made
their way home over a sea of rubble-ice. To show the effects of
ice-movements, Lockwood observed, when crossing Watercourse Bay on
their return, the sledge-tracks made the day before fifty feet in
the air on top of floe-bergs!

They made a visit to some floe-bergs at the mouth of Lady Franklin
Bay to get specimens of  ice seen there on a berg. These were
mostly yellow, but some specimens almost black. On melting, they
gave an offensive odor, and made deposits of their color. Analysis
only could determine the nature of the coloring-matter. Young ice
was measured, and found to be twenty inches thick.

Lockwood would have been glad enough to be away from that cold
region, and yet he seemed determined again to explore the north
Greenland coast, and thought that, under favorable circumstances, he
could go farther than he had already gone by at least seventy-five
miles, thereby manifesting a degree of pluck almost unique in its
character. Difficulties might arise to defeat his plans, but, these
surmounted, all his energies and hopes would be directed to
returning home. It was Lieutenant Greely’s opinion, however, that
his “farthest” would not be again reached in the present century.

On the 5th of November Dr. Pavy returned from an expedition to Carl
Ritter Bay, which he had reached by following the valley back of
Cape Lieber, as the ice-foot was found impracticable. The dog-food,
or dried fish, taken, being insufficient and poor, one of the dogs
died, and was immediately eaten by the others. The straits below
were found quite open. They killed one musk-ox, but could not bring
in the meat. On the return, so rough was the ice over the bay that
twelve hours were required to cross from Cape Baird.

The doctor urged the policy of storing provisions at Cape Hawkes for
their boat-journey, a thing easier to talk about than to do, as Cape
Hawkes was one hundred and fifty-five miles, in a straight line,
south of Lady Franklin Bay, and it would occupy a dog-sledge to go
and return at least one month. If anything was to be done in that
direction, all thoughts of further exploration must be abandoned.
The doctor predicted that a naval expedition would be sent for them
the next year, Congress having hitherto failed to provide for their
relief.

In one of his tramps to Proteus Point, Lockwood’s feet were again
frosted, owing partly to his imperfect foot-gear, and he then became
convinced that a light, flexible moccasin was the best thing to wear
in that country.

For several days about the middle of November, there were magnetic
disturbances of a pronounced character coincident with the storms
and auroras they were experiencing. Storms were always indicated by
rapid changes of barometer, but sometimes the barometer fell and no
storm followed. Auroras had recently been attended with varied
colors, which was unusual, as they had formerly been uniformly
white. A surveyor working there would find, at times, his
compass-needle almost unmanageable. Seals were seen in the most
unexpected places, one of them having been killed with a hatchet in
a tide-hole.

On the 21st, Lockwood was startled, when setting out on his usual
walk, to see what looked like smoke coming from the roof of the
house; but what he mistook for smoke was only the condensation of
vapor escaping from the house. The appearance of the smoke coming
from the chimney, and of the steam from the roof, projected as they
were on the sides of the snow-covered mountains, was very pretty.
The ice-wall around the house was a great protection, not only
keeping the hot air in, but protecting the house from the furious
blasts which would otherwise enter it, if, indeed, they did not
destroy it.

Lieutenant Greely resumed his lectures, which had before proved so
interesting. He gave one, which they all admired, on the history of
his native town, Newburyport. Israel had also assumed the _rôle_ of
lecturer on astronomy, with which he was familiar.

When Lockwood became desperate with _ennui_, he got out his old
letters and again read them, as they carried him back to his distant
home and parents and sisters. He earnestly prayed that a kind
Providence would restore him to them. This was the end of all his
hopes.

On the 30th of November Lockwood wrote as follows: “This is the day
Lieutenant Greely appointed for thanksgiving, and thankfully should
we keep it; for we have not only escaped sickness and any serious
discomforts, but we have had undoubted success in our efforts both
scientific and geographical. We have had a royal feast of soup,
beef, corn, Lima beans, pineapple-jelly, nuts, and figs.”

Contrary to his resolve, a few days later he commenced reading
novels. His feeling was that they withdraw one from one’s self,
which is something gained; but they put one up in the clouds from
which it is often painful to descend. They cause the reader to live
for a time in an ideal world, and bring him back to the stern
reality with a sense of disappointment.

On the 8th of December, Lockwood was greatly impressed by the
absence of light, and gave his views as follows: “It is now very
dark, even at noon, except when we have the moon and a clear sky.
Even on the floe, where the pure white snow reflects every bit of
light, it is now so obscure that it is difficult to see the path at
one’s feet; and even the outlines of the mountains, high above the
horizon, are very dim. A faint gleam of twilight over the south
horizon, at noon only, shows the direction in which the sun and
‘God’s country’ lie. So dark is it that I have several times
stumbled over the dogs lying outside at the door; and when in a
pathway, one has rather to feel the way than see it, requiring the
use of a lantern in going from the house.

“No wonder, then, that the moon is so highly appreciated in this
benighted region. How delightful it is, after a fortnight’s absence,
to have her with us once again! How a poet would rave over the moon
could he once know a polar winter! We have her now in all her glory,
lighting up this vast desert waste, which, covered with its mantle
of snow and ice, now becomes a thing of beauty.

“The effect of continued absence of sunlight is very marked in the
complexion of all the men, as well as in their loss of vigor. They
are as blanched as potato-sprouts in a dark cellar. Blessed orb of
light and life! One can hardly imagine the one without the other.
The moral as well as the physical influence of sunlight is very soon
seen after the sun’s reappearance, the middle of February.”

They still kept up birthdays, and the 24th was that of Saler, when
they had a feast selected by himself. The musk-ox beef was
particularly good, being young and tender, and free from the musk
flavor so common with old oxen. They were now used to this, however,
and it did not trouble them.

In the evening Lieutenant Greely brought out a few Christmas
presents to distribute, which had not been issued the previous year,
and there were some prizes of tobacco, soap, etc., raffled for. A
chromo-picture of good “King Billy” of Prussia was given to Long,
whose hair is somewhat red. The hair in the picture being of the
same color, much mirth was elicited, as Long was sensitive about his
hair, and was constantly chaffed by the men on that account.
Lieutenant Greely made a few appropriate remarks, referring to the
success of the expedition, and praying that their good fortune might
continue, etc.

The Christmas-dinner was remarkably good—one that might have been
enjoyed anywhere. The appetites of the men and of the officers were
equal to the occasion. Of late some of them had shown less appetite
than formerly, possibly because their supplies showing signs of
failing in a few particulars, the table had shown less variety. The
average weight of the men was found to be one hundred and
seventy-one pounds, Lockwood’s weight being one hundred and
seventy-six, embodying a good deal of caloric.

On the 8th of January, 1883, after repairing some damage done to the
launch by the ice, Lieutenant Greely announced his resolve to leave
for home in boats not later than August 8th, and sooner, if the ice
permitted.

On the 23d, efforts were made to cross the bay to Cape Baird, but
without success, the difficulties being the absence of light, the
intense cold, and the extremely rough ice. It was desired to open a
passage to Cape Baird, and make a depot of provisions there for use
on the retreat. Their first efforts carried these stores only to
mid-channel, but afterward Sergeant Lynn and others carried them
over to Cape Baird.

Much of Lockwood’s time was of necessity occupied in tailoring, and
he had become quite an expert. Service in the north not only
demanded much clothing, but the garments must be strong and warm.
Their supply in store being somewhat limited and not judiciously
chosen, particularly in foot- and hand-gear, all were from time to
time engaged in repairing old garments or making new. Rice suggested
a method of doubling the supply of woolen socks by cutting off the
legs of long stockings and sewing up the bottoms of the leg part.
For his proposed spring trip, Lockwood was counting upon a rig
consisting of two merino shirts, three flannel shirts, one chamois
vest, one vest made of two thicknesses of army-blanket, one woolen
Jersey, one swan-skin cloth over-shirt, one pair of merino drawers,
two pairs of flannel drawers, soldier’s trousers, cloth cap covering
head and neck with a skirt covering the shoulders, and a pair of
moccasins over heavy woolen socks—all to be worn at once, though
seemingly heavy enough to weigh down an elephant. The only clothing
in reserve was woolen wrappers and socks for the feet, and a
seal-skin “timiak” for exceptionally cold weather. Having suffered
much from cold feet, Lockwood had paid special attention to
foot-gear, but without great success. Frequently he was kept awake
most of the night from this cause. He noticed that the dogs suffered
more in their feet than elsewhere, and might be seen at any time
standing around with their feet drawn up under their bodies. The
feet and the nose seemed to be the only highly sensitive parts of
the Esquimaux dog, these being, indeed, the only parts not covered
with long wool. Lockwood never tired of watching these animals. They
were susceptible to kindness, though generally getting little of it.
They followed him on his lonely walks, and seemed grateful for any
notice or attention on his part. The young pups soon became docile
and tractable in harness, though a little more difficult to manage
than old dogs.

When the 1st of March arrived, all hands were engaged in preparing
for their spring work. First in order was the supply of their depot
on the eastern side, and Lockwood purposed leaving soon, to convey
several hundred pounds of rations to that place. As usual in such
cases, Dr. Pavy and two others of the party indulged themselves in
the most gloomy prognostications as to the future, declaring that
all idea of further explorations should be abandoned, and all their
efforts applied to depositing provisions down the straits to secure
their safe retreat in boats in August and September. Both
Lieutenants Greely and Lockwood did all they could to make a success
of this expedition, but the social atmosphere was not congenial, and
there was little enthusiasm manifested. How different would have
been this life if all had pulled together! Lockwood was impatient to
be away from this trouble and at work. If he could not go farther
than on his previous trip, he could at least try, and no man could
do more than his best.

On the 10th of March, Lockwood left with two sledge-teams of ten
dogs each for the purpose of placing supplies on the Greenland side
of the straits—he, Sergeant Brainard, and Esquimaux Frederick, with
one sledge; Sergeant Jewell, Corporal Ellison, and Jans, with the
other. After leaving Depot A, where they added to their load, they
had on each sledge about nine hundred and thirty pounds, or nearly
one hundred pounds per dog. Found much rubble-ice on St. Patrick’s
Bay, but, generally, the route to Depot B was good, and the journey
was made in eight hours from the station. Although they had a fire
in the little stove of the depot tent, all passed an uncomfortable
night, not only from cold, but from their cramped and crowded
condition. Their feet were higher than their heads, and the head in
one instance was under the edge of the damp, frost-covered canvas.
“Woolly” was found to be lame, and had to be left in a hole in the
snow-bank, with a supply of hard bread; Ellison was feeling badly,
yet said, “All right,” and insisted on proceeding. Seeing no
favorable passage from Cape Beechy, they concluded to go up to
Wrangell Bay and try the passage direct from there to Cape Brevoort.
To reach Wrangell, they had to leave the ice-foot and move out on
the straits, and soon found themselves in an awful mass of
rubble-ice like a vast plain covered with bowlders. A great deal of
chopping had to be done with the axe, and what progress they made,
was with half-loads. They encamped on the straits, and, while the
others returned for the discarded loads, Lockwood prepared supper,
succeeding only in making some ice into lukewarm tea, which, with
cold bread and meat, they hastily swallowed before creeping into
their sleeping-bags. They secured but little sleep, as may be
imagined when it is known that the thermometer registered that night
-48°. Under such circumstances, they seemed never completely
unconscious, and got up in the morning under the belief that they
had not slept at all.

Reaching the south cape of Wrangell Bay, they turned to the right
and went directly toward Cape Brevoort, still meeting with ice of
the most formidable kind, over which the heavily loaded sledges had
frequently to be lifted. Tired out, they camped at 5 P. M. in the
midst of the strait. The first thing to be done was to look out for
the foot-gear. This always had a lining of frost inside as well as
out, being wet from perspiration if not from leakage. Brainard
always changed his stockings for dry ones when he could do so, but
Lockwood and Frederick generally let theirs go, the latter from
indifference to frost-bites, and the former to escape the pain
arising from tender feet and fingers. By incasing his feet in dog-
or sheep-skin wrappings, he managed to pass the night comfortably.

Ellison, being really sick, was sent back to the depot to the tender
care of Woolly. After moving for a time over rubble, several of the
pieces of which came up to a man’s shoulders, they were greatly
encouraged by coming to a grand paleocrystic floe, whose gently
undulating surface stretched east, north, and south as far as the
eye could reach. This floe reminded Lockwood of a Western prairie,
its mounds and gullies making the resemblance more complete. As an
offset to this smooth way, they had to face an icy north wind with
the thermometer from -35° to -48°. Frederick got one cheek and a
finger frost-bitten, Brainard his face, and Lockwood his nose. Here
they put off the load, and at a run with the empty sledge returned
to their former encampment, where the tent was left standing, to
await the return of Jewell, who had gone back to Depot B to leave
Ellison with Woolly.

The next morning, packing everything on the two sledges, they soon
gained the smooth floe seen the day before, whence, detaching Jewell
for some stores at Lincoln Bay, which he was to leave at this point
and then return to Fort Conger, Lockwood, Frederick, and Brainard
proceeded across the floe with as much of the total loads as the
dogs of their sledge could drag. Coming within five miles of Cape
Brevoort, and seeing formidable ice in that direction, while toward
Newman Bay the ice was better, Lockwood concluded to head toward
that bay. They did so until 5 P. M., and then camped on the straits,
completely exhausted. During the night they had a violent south
wind, but they had campaigned too much not to be prepared for this
with tent-pins securely driven.

In the morning they made their way over pretty good floes with some
rubble, and reached at noon the whale-boat at Polaris Point, finding
the rations in her intact. Thence, following the snow <DW72> along
the cliffs, and passing the point where Lockwood and Frederick had
spent many hours the year before in a snow-hole, they passed round
Cape Sumner through masses of ice in some places piled fifty feet
high, and finally reached the Boat Camp on Newman Bay.

Having thus provisioned the Boat Camp, they took a survey of the
routes back, and concluding that, all things considered, the one
direct to Cape Beechy was the best, returned by it with the empty
sledge, making rapid progress and reaching the west shore in just
seven hours. Notwithstanding they had no load, the passage was by no
means easy, for they had to pass over mountain-ridges, deep pits,
and gullies in the rubble-ice, where the dogs could scarcely keep
their footing. Lockwood was impressed, as often before, with the
power and endurance of the dogs. Ellison had left the depot, but
Woolly still remained, and there, also, they found Jewell, who had
been up to Lincoln Bay, where he found that the foxes had eaten up a
large part of the meat in _cache_ there.

With Woolly on the sledge, they returned to the station, meeting
Snyder and Whistler _en route_ with a pup-team and sledge, going for
Woolly. It was interesting and touching to witness the
demonstrations and delight of these youngsters on meeting their
elders, among which were the mothers of some of them.

Jewell said that, on his return to the depot, he put away his
dog-harness in one of the empty tents, and that when he awoke the
next morning he found nothing remaining but the bone buttons and the
whip-handles, the dogs having eaten everything else. Another
dog-story is recorded as follows:

“Milatook had pups the other day, and all were killed except one. It
was discovered yesterday in a very unfortunate condition, with tail
frozen hard and stiff, and legs in nearly the same condition. Some
of the men soaked the tail in water, and eventually ‘brought it to.’
It is a sad tail.”




                                XIV.
                   RESUMING A DESPERATE STRUGGLE.


On the 19th of March, fair weather came out of the north, and not
only cheered the hearts of the whole colony at the station, but
fired the desire of Lieutenant Lockwood for the new campaign, which
he had long been contemplating. After a consultation with Lieutenant
Greely, he concluded to start on the following day, or soon after.
As usual, some cold water was thrown upon his plans, one of the
critics declaring that they had experienced enough of that kind of
business; and another, that they had better be thinking of their
coming fate. But Lockwood’s reasoning was as follows: “Before I go
home, I must make another ‘strike’ on the north Greenland coast. If
the conditions of the ice are no worse, I ought to be able to
discover the northeast extremity of Greenland, and add several miles
to my latitude, although Lieutenant Greely thinks that my present
‘farthest’ will not again be reached in our day. I say nothing about
all this, however. _Act_ first and talk afterward has always been my
way.”

Lockwood was both hopeful and determined, and on the 23d he received
his final orders to the effect, that, should he not be able to reach
a higher latitude than he did before without undue danger, or should
he or any of his men break down or become dangerously ill, he was to
return forthwith. To this he replied that he knew not what might
happen, but he intended, if possible, to reach the eighty-fourth
parallel. In anticipation of his own birthday, and to honor the
explorers with a good “send-off,” Lieutenant Greely gave a dinner on
the 26th, and, thus fortified, they were prepared to move on the
following day, rejoicing.

Lockwood had two fine teams of ten dogs each assigned for his use,
and, as before, the faithful Brainard and Esquimaux Frederick were
to accompany him. Everything passed off quietly, without the
excitement or enthusiasm of the previous spring. They left the
station at 8.30 A. M., the advance sledge bearing the silk flag of
Mrs. Greely, with Brainard and Frederick the Esquimaux; the
supporting sledge with Jewell, Ellis, and Esquimaux Jans; and then
the pup-team and sledge driven by Snyder, and carrying Greely and
Lockwood. On reaching Watercourse Bay, whence they were to take back
a load of coal, Lieutenant Greely and team left them, after bidding
God-speed, and telling them to be sure and bring back the north end
of Greenland! Reaching Depot A in two and a quarter hours, they took
on two small seals left there, and passing Depot B, where they
obtained more provisions, they reached Cape Beechy at 4 P. M.—the
dogs quite fresh, but the men much wearied.

When they resumed their journey, it was snowing and the Greenland
shore invisible. They took a direct course by compass for Cape
Sumner over rubble-ice until they reached the first floe, on whose
hard, undulating surface they made rapid progress until they came to
rubble-ice again. Brainard, with axe in hand, went ahead, clearing
the way over impassable places, until the high cliff of Polaris
Promontory came in sight. Finally, both Jewell and Ellis suffering
from pain, when three miles from Cape Sumner they stopped for the
night, after making twenty miles, and all went into bags.

Moving early next morning with considerable wind, they got into bad
ice with cracks, down which some of the dogs fell and had to be
drawn up; but finally, finding a better route, reached the Polaris
Boat Camp, where, leaving some meat for the dogs when returning,
they continued on toward Gap Valley, generally over rolling floes,
and through rubble, requiring a good deal of cutting, tugging, and
pushing.

When three miles out they went into camp again, leaving Ellis to
prepare supper for all, while the others, with both sledges,
returned to the Boat Camp.

Leaving Brainard to get ready the alcohol to be taken from the
whale-boat, they kept on along shore to the foot of the cliffs and
the _cache_. Here they found the snow-<DW72>s much worse than on
their last visit, but, the sledges being empty, they could have gone
along over anything except a stone wall, and even that would have
had to be very high to stop them. Fox-tracks were seen near the
_cache_, but they found it intact. The ice they had piled about it
was almost covered by the drifting snow. The contents of the
_cache_, about one thousand pounds in all, were put on the two
sledges, and soon after they went down a snow-bank so steep and hard
that the sledges took entire command, though all hands tried to hold
them back; but the dogs keeping out of the way, no harm was done.
This was at Cape Sumner, whence they returned to the Boat Camp.
Here, taking on the things prepared by Brainard, they returned to
the tents. After supper some hours were spent in getting ready the
rations for from twenty to forty-eight days. Jewell and Ellis were
both complaining; otherwise, every thing looked very promising.

On the morning of the 30th, it was clear overhead but cloudy around
the horizon, and a slight snow was falling. The loads were about
eleven hundred pounds to each team, but the dogs did admirably, and
good speed was made, the ice being covered with a very light depth
of snow. At the mouth of the gorge by which they were to ascend and
cross the Brevoort Peninsula, they reduced the load on each sledge
and started up this narrow, rocky, winding cañon. The snow was hard
and they were getting along well, when right before them appeared a
wall of snow, so steep and hard that Lockwood had to use his big
knife, to ascend. It was about thirty feet high. He went alone to
view the situation. A few yards beyond was a kind of ice tunnel
whose roof was about three feet high. Then came another high, steep
snow-drift with a snow-cavern alongside, probably fifty yards in
length; and also a few feet farther was found a deep pit formed by
the snow. Climbing around this and proceeding half a mile, he found
that the gorge made a bend to the east and became still more narrow
and rocky; but a side ravine offered a chance to get out of this big
gutter, up a long, steep <DW72> of hard snow, three or four times the
height of the preceding drifts; and then Lockwood found himself on
the table-land overlooking Newman Bay.

The sledges with great difficulty gained this comparatively level
divide. The landmarks not being altogether familiar to Lockwood, he
took a long walk after supper to a distant ridge, where, seeing the
sea-coast, his way became perfectly clear. It was a lonely and
dismal walk, and the ridge seemed to get farther away as he
approached it. After more than two hours’ absence he returned to the
tents, crawled in alongside of Sergeant Brainard, and was quickly
lulled to sleep notwithstanding the snoring of Frederick. The horrid
sound issuing from his bag was as loud as a brass band at a circus.

The process of getting breakfast was to be preferred to that of
getting supper. When a man went into camp, after a toilsome day of
travel, and had helped to pitch tent and unload the sledge, it was
hard, while covered with frost, with cold and perhaps wet feet, to
chop ice and meat, and handle cold metal.

After an uncomfortable night, with the temperature down to -45°,
they started again. Proceeding several miles, they reached a narrow,
winding ravine, and finally a gorge, which they followed until they
came to the head of the wide Gap Valley, and thence to the
sea-coast. Turning east, they continued on a few hundred yards, and
were then stopped by the ice-wall, which crowded so closely to the
shore that the sledges could not be hauled through. Lockwood and
Frederick pitched the tent, while Brainard went ahead with the axe,
and, after much hard work, made a passage about one eighth of a mile
long through this place. They managed to worry through with half the
load by three o’clock, and, leaving Brainard to get supper, Lockwood
and Frederick went on with half the load for about one and a half
miles. The route beyond the bad place was excellent. Dropping the
load, they returned to the tent by four o’clock. Jewell came along
later, he and Ellis complaining again of their difficulty in keeping
up with the sledge when it went faster than a slow walk.

While approaching the cairn at Repulse Harbor, on the 1st of April,
Brainard’s sharp eyes discovered the site of the English depot of
rations, which contained Lieutenant Beaumont’s sextant, an English
flag, a cooking-lamp, old clothes, and some foot-gear. The road
before them was excellent, and they made good time, soon passing the
route of the preceding year, which reached the coast just east of
Repulse Harbor.

On coming near Drift Point, they were better able to see the
northern expanse outside the ice-wall which lined the coast and had
interrupted the view. Lockwood saw a good deal of young ice
interspersed with holes, and leads of open water. The main pack
beyond seemed permeated by leads of what had been quite recently
open water. Dark, misty “water-clouds” were seen everywhere
northward. The young ice extended along shore in both directions as
far as they could see, and out from shore a hundred yards or more.
Beyond it was the polar pack, broken into small floes and
rubble-ice, which had a glistening green appearance, as though
recently pushed up by the grinding of the fields about it; all this
was very surprising.

They made their way over the snow-<DW72>s of Drift Point and beyond
until the near approach of the cliffs on one side and the ice-wall
on the other brought them to a halt eighty miles from Fort Conger.
Here they encamped with everything, having come thus far in six
days.

The ice-wall along here was from forty to fifty feet high. Outside,
there was a good deal of ice lately formed, with smooth floes. They
passed on near the foot of the bluffs, to see if there was any way
of getting along the cliffs, making their way between the ice-wall
and the foot of the steep <DW72>s of the bluffs with great effort.
The _débris_ of stone, etc., from the cliffs above made the route
almost impracticable for a sledge. Before reaching Black Horn
Cliffs, they were obliged to find a route along the top of the
ice-wall, and thus got a short distance along the bottom of these
vertical cliffs. But now, from a fissure in the cliffs above, came a
steep drift of very hard snow, slanting down to the water at its
foot. To scale the cliffs by means of this drift was dangerous, as a
slip would inevitably have taken one directly into the water.

By cutting steps in the snow they gained a considerable elevation,
but, on looking round a point of rocks, the height beyond was so
much greater and worse than they expected, that they could not
proceed. All along shore was the crack of open water about a yard
wide, with young ice beyond, through which a stone or fragment of
ice might be thrown. Dense water-clouds appeared in many directions.
They returned to camp, and, after enjoying some tea, Lockwood gave
Jewell the tidal rod to make observations, while with Brainard he
started out again, this time to the south and up a stream-bed, at
whose mouth they were encamped, hoping to find a route back of the
cliffs overland. They soon found themselves in a ravine with high,
rocky sides, and encountered a steep snow-drift. Beyond was a small
hole in the snow, which seemed to be a cavern or grotto formed of
snow and ice, and probably running down to the bed of the stream—if
that may be called a stream which has no water. Beyond this were
exposed rocks under foot, and they saw ptarmigan-tracks, where the
birds had used their wings in getting down a snow-drift. Finally,
they came to a branch ravine from the southeast, the main stream
leading off toward the south. They turned up the branch, and kept on
for a while, when the high rocky sides seemed to come to a formation
of ice like a glacier, a hundred feet high, at least, and very
steep. The crest was perpendicular. The route thus far was difficult
yet practicable, but it was clearly impossible for a dog-team to
haul an _empty_ sledge up this place, and yet it was the only place
where there was anything else than an inclined plane of rocks. The
glacier was covered with snow, but in many places the ice could be
seen cropping out, the snow being only a thin covering. Some
ice-grottoes were also seen. They clambered up the rocks to the
left, and found themselves on a stony plateau. Off to the east was
an elevated ridge or knoll, toward which they traveled about a mile
and a half. On gaining it, the barometer showed an elevation of
thirteen hundred feet. Toward the south was a chain of mountains
running east and west, through the western extremity of which the
main stream-bed they had ascended seemed to break, about six miles
from the sea. The branch appeared to end at the glacier; but to the
east of it the land sloped north and south, and formed a
surface-drain which, running east, soon narrowed into a gorge, and,
bending to the north, reached the sea just west of Rest Gorge, as
well as they could make out. At the bend was a large formation of
ice or snow.

They returned to camp at 3 P. M., and found every one there walking
vigorously up and down to keep warm, or, rather, to keep from
freezing, the thermometer marking -48°. Jewell left his beat every
few minutes to note the height of the water on the tide-rod. There
was now nothing else to do except to get into the sleeping-bags, and
this in cold weather always involves a change of foot-gear. At six
o’clock Brainard had prepared supper, and shortly after, the advance
sledge-party was trying to sleep. Jewell kept on taking observations
until after eleven, when he caught the high tide. It was a severe
ordeal, but he preferred to do it, without assistance, as it was
much better for the record.

Brainard complained of want of sleep, and Lockwood’s rest was much
the same as usual—an uneasy, oppressed feeling of being half asleep
and half awake; every few hours getting broad awake, and wondering
if it were time to rise, or how much colder his feet would have to
get before freezing. Having decided to examine the main ravine
running south, Lockwood started from camp before eight, with
Brainard, Frederick, and Ellis. On reaching the branch, he and Ellis
continued south, and the other two went up the branch. Continuing
along between the high, rocky sides of the ravine, with abundance of
hard snow under foot, but some bad snow-drifts, they found a very
good sledge-route. After a while, they came to a huge formation of
snow, filling the whole breadth of the ravine, and sloping up—in one
place by a very easy ascent—to the west bank. Gaining this, they
continued on and reached a ridge some twelve hundred feet high,
which commanded a view of the sea, and of the valley to the south as
far as the mountains. The valley seemed to grow wider and deeper as
far as the mountains, through which it broke from a southwest
direction. No break or defile of any kind offered an outlet to the
east. Beyond the east bank was a wide plateau covered with stones,
and about four miles from the sea. After taking a good survey of the
country, they turned back toward the camp. Brainard and Frederick
joined them some time afterward, and reported that they had cut one
hundred and fifty-two steps in the side of the glacier to get up,
and found that the branch extended a short distance beyond, but that
a vertical ledge of ice some twelve feet high presented itself
afterward, and that, on getting beyond this, they found themselves
on a plateau covered with bare stones. Brainard thought the route
utterly impracticable, and went no farther. He afterward said that
they might be able to get round to Rest Gorge in two weeks, with the
sledges and loads, by taking the sledges to pieces, and carrying
them and the loads piecemeal over these obstructions. The young ice
seemed to be getting thicker, and they began to think they might get
around the cliffs after all. They had some tea and “pap,” and began
to calculate how many days it would take to reach Cape Bryant.
During the afternoon, a way for the sledge was cut through a low
place in the ice-wall, a short distance west of the camp, and two
days’ rations were also deposited in a _cache_ on the hill. A slight
wind blew during the day, and by eight o’clock all were in their
sleeping-bags again, excepting Jewell, who kept up tidal
observations until ten, securing a very satisfactory set, two high
tides and the intervening low tide.

Thermometer during the night -43°. After breakfast, Brainard went
down to the tide-gauge, and, coming back, reported that the rising
tide had widened the crack a little, but that he had fixed it by
chopping snow blocks and throwing them into the water. Being
unwilling to risk everything on the young ice, thinking that it
might break through, Lockwood put the five sacks of pemmican on the
sledge, and leaving the tent, etc., and the supporting sledge-party
packing up, he, Brainard, and Frederick started on. They reached the
ice with no trouble, and, proceeding out from shore one or two
hundred yards, turned to the east and went a short distance when,
Frederick seeming to think the ice all right, Lockwood sent Brainard
ahead with the axe, while with Frederick, having thrown off the
load, he proceeded back for the rest of the stores, so as to take
all on together. They had nearly reached the shore, when suddenly
Lockwood saw two or three of the dogs in the water, and knew from
Frederick’s tones that something had happened. The ice was moving
out from shore, and they saw no way of getting off. Lockwood called
for Jewell, and then leaving Frederick and his team to find a way to
shore if possible, started on the run to get within hailing distance
of Brainard. He was speedily overtaken by Frederick and the
dog-team, the dogs going at a fast gallop, and Frederick laying his
whip about them in all directions. Lockwood proceeded to find some
place to get ashore, but there was none, except at a little
promontory of rubble-ice, in front of the camp, and about two
hundred yards from the tide-gauge. Elsewhere up and down, as far as
they could see, was a continuous belt of water, every moment getting
wider. The ice had a motion toward the east, as well as out from the
shore, and thus kept in position a small cake of ice by means of
which Lockwood got on the promontory, and then directed the
movements of the dog-sledge which now came along. On the way back
they stopped and threw the pemmican on the sledge again, the ice
being perfectly smooth and hard. They first saved the dogs, pulling
them up one by one, and then, the little ice-cake seeming to keep
its position, a bridge was made of the sledge, and all the pemmican
saved. The ice continued to move out from the shore, until up and
down as far as the eye could reach was a wide belt of open water.
Before they left, it was in many places between one and two hundred
yards wide, and the ice at the same time moving toward the east.
They got ashore at eleven o’clock, and by 12.30 the sledge-tracks,
which had been opposite the tidal rod, were opposite the camp, a
distance of two hundred yards. While the sledges were being packed,
a seal made his appearance and eyed the party curiously. The guns
were not convenient, and he was not disturbed. Many water-clouds
were seen to the north at this time, and the whole polar pack seemed
to be on the move. They were all grateful for getting out of the
trap so well. Referring to their living on the moving floe,
Frederick made signs to suggest their eating the dog-pemmican;
certainly this would have lasted a long time had they not frozen to
death in the mean while, which they would have done very soon, as
they were without sleeping-bags or alcohol.

There seemed nothing to do but turn about and go home, and yet
Lockwood was extremely averse to the idea. The overland route looked
well-nigh impossible, or something at least that could not be
accomplished in time to allow them to reach the farthest of 1882.
Lockwood’s orders directed his return in case this contingency
should arise, as well as in case of any “signs of the disintegration
of the polar pack,” or in case he became incapacitated for rapid
travel. He walked up and down and thought of it for some time, both
Brainard and Jewell having declared that there was nothing else to
do but return. At 12.30, the teams being all ready, they turned
toward the west. As they came near the <DW72>s of Drift Point a very
disagreeable south wind with drifting snow was met, which continuing
to get worse, their cheeks and noses began to suffer, and therefore,
at about two o’clock, they halted and pitched the tents, driving the
pins first, and raising the tents afterward. By this time it was
blowing almost a gale, and, the thermometer being very low, the tent
was tied up, and they prepared to weather it out, Lockwood having a
severe headache, which added to his tribulations.

The whole of April 5th was passed in the sleeping-bags, giving all
hands an opportunity to meditate on the _delights_ of an Arctic
sledge-journey. The time was spent in sleep, or in trying to keep
warm and sleep at the same time. During the day Lockwood counted up
the exact number of rations remaining, and, still bent on his dream
of the eighty-fourth degree, calculated that, if they could get
around overland to Rest Gorge in five days, they could yet go to the
farthest of 1882 and a few days beyond, provided the traveling was
not worse than the previous year. He announced his intention
accordingly. Brainard and Jewell were not hopeful, but willing to do
their best in attempting it. One great obstacle was the lame and
crippled condition of both Jewell and Ellis. The signs of
disintegration in the polar pack, Lockwood proposed to disregard.

The wind continuing to blow, it was noon before they started off
toward the east to reconnoitre; but, prior to this, Lockwood went up
on the high ground back of the tents and saw a great deal of open
water. Some time after starting, he stopped the sledges and went up
on another elevation to reconnoitre, feeling that, if he went on and
anything happened, his responsibility would be heavy, from his
disobedience of orders. From this point could be seen a belt of open
water running along shore, in both directions, for miles. In no
place was it less than two hundred yards wide, and from that it
increased to four and five hundred. Westward from the vicinity of
Repulse Harbor, it extended in a lead, growing wider and wider, all
the way across the straits, apparently to the vicinity of Lincoln
Bay, where it seemed to swing round to the north. This lead was
upward of five miles wide in the middle. Whether there were other
leads south of it, between Newman Bay and Beechy, could not be
determined. In the polar pack to the north were several small leads
and a great many dark water-clouds. The ice was again noticed moving
rapidly to the northeast. Beyond Cape Bryant, he supposed the ice to
be intact, as in 1882, but around the cape, north of Britannia, they
had then traveled on new ice, and, going out on the polar pack at
Cape Dodge, just this side of the farthest, had traveled on it for
several miles. The condition of this route now could not be known,
of course, but what they had seen made the prospect very
unfavorable. The signs of disintegration were unmistakable, and
Lockwood therefore determined to turn back once again. Near this
spot he remarked a very curious stratified floeberg. It was about
forty feet high, and a dozen or more horizontal lines were very
plain. The weather had now cleared up beautifully, and they were
soon at Repulse Harbor. Here they left a short notice of their
defeat in an English cairn, and, taking Beaumont’s sextant, the
English flag, etc., on the sledge, continued on their way to the
mouth of Gap Valley, where they went into camp, and remained long
enough to take a set of tidal observations.

The observations here were very satisfactory, and were kept up by
Jewell for more than twelve hours. Brainard, with Ellis and the two
teams and drivers, advanced the heaviest part of the loads _en
route_ nine miles to the shore of Newman Bay. Lockwood and Jewell
remained in camp, and the former found it extremely monotonous,
having nothing to do but to prepare supper. The only way to keep
warm was by constantly moving about, and, as a cold wind was
blowing, this in itself was not comfortable. The observations were
very trying to Jewell, continued as they were long after the rest
were in their bags.

On the 8th of April, they suffered more than usual with cold. The
sleeping-bags, frozen stiff, were a long time in thawing out after
they got into them. Dark water-clouds were seen along the northern
horizon, although elsewhere the sky was bright and clear. One,
particularly noticeable, to the northeast and near shore, looked
like a huge cliff in a fog. They also noticed a movement in an
ice-hillock some distance off the coast. It changed its angle to the
east during their stay, and suggested open water across their route
before reaching Cape Beechy. They left camp at ten, and found the
traveling very good—rather improved by the late storm. Jewell and
Ellis began to suffer again, and the latter was carried on the
sledge several miles, the loads being very light. They soon reached
the middle of the divide, and then the loads left on the shore of
Newman Bay, making very fast time through the gorge, though the
sledges had to be let down the snow-<DW72>s and drifts by ropes.
After stopping some time to take on everything, they proceeded
slowly and reached the Boat Camp, and soon after Cape Sumner, where
they stopped to make tidal observations, Lockwood and Brainard
remarking what a particularly dreary and dismal place it was, and
wondering if they should ever see it again. It brought to mind the
trials and tribulations of the previous spring. Yet, in spite of
those trials, the novelty of everything, and the imperfect
equipment, that expedition was a success; and this one,
notwithstanding their experience and the completeness of their
arrangements, a failure. “Oft expectation fails where most it
promises.” Lockwood felt thankful that they had escaped from the
ice-pack, and from passing the forty-eight hours of the recent storm
upon it, living on the pemmican until finally frozen to death; but
the sense of defeat was predominant. They passed a tedious, cold
afternoon, but enjoyed a good dinner, having now an abundance of
rations of all kinds. It warmed them up and put new life in all.
Jewell saw, during his observations, a white owl flying overhead
toward the east.

The morning of the 10th was bright, clear, and calm. They noticed a
stratum of misty clouds, supposed to be water-clouds, hanging along
the foot of the cliffs on the Grinnell Land shore, and extending
from above Cape Beechy northward indefinitely. After passing through
several bands of rubble-ice with great labor, and yet without having
to double up, they found the tracks made on the outward journey, and
followed them continuously. This saved a great deal of time in
chopping and picking out a road. About noon they suddenly
encountered a very cold south wind. It seemed to come out of Devil’s
Gap, Polaris Promontory, and as usual carried along a lot of fine
drifted snow, continuing during the day. Their heavy loads made the
dogs travel at a slow walk, otherwise, no doubt, both Jewell and
Ellis must have been left behind or carried on the sledges. They
went into camp on a hard snow-drift.

After an uncomfortable night, with the mercury at 45° below zero,
they left camp and followed the old trail, as on the previous day,
jolting along with little difficulty in the rubble-ice, the dogs
doing admirably, bracing themselves to the effort at bad places,
like so many men.

They reached Depot B at 2.50 P. M., and pitched the tents, this
making the tenth time that Lockwood had crossed the straits above
Fort Conger.

The traveling was tedious and slow, but they reached Depot A at
noon, stopping only half an hour, and arrived at Fort Conger in the
afternoon. Everything there was quiet as the grave. “General Grant”
was the only one, man or beast, that knew of their approach and came
out to meet them. Even when they passed the windows and reached the
door, no one saw or heard them, and Lockwood walked in on Lieutenant
Greely like a ghost, and simply said: “Well, I’m back again; open
water at Black Horn Cliffs.” Some of his further reflections were to
this effect:

“Do I take up my pen to write the humiliating word _failed_? I do,
and bitter is the dose, although it is now a week since first I
tasted it. My return here, the inaction after two and a half weeks
of activity, and the monotony, not to mention the disappointment of
Lieutenant Greely, make it fresh as when first mixed. I tried
yesterday and to-day to induce Lieutenant Greely to let me go out
again, but he says this is our last year here, that I still have
last year’s work to fall back on, and, above all, that it is not
_prudent_. I have a scheme by which I could travel four days beyond
the farthest of ’82, and get back here in forty-four days, leaving
April 21st and returning June 3d—that is, provided an overland route
around the Black Horn Cliffs can be found, and provided the
conditions beyond are no worse than last year. My proposal was to
take the two teams, the two Esquimaux and Brainard, five sacks of
pemmican, one tent, two sleeping-bags, etc., and forty-four days’
rations for the party. The five sacks would last the dogs
twenty-three days, after which about eight dogs of the twenty would
be killed one by one, and thus the remainder fed on the return. We
should have to make long marches, it is true. Perhaps the refusal is
for the best, and I still have the country southwest of the head of
Archer Fiord to operate in; but I am reluctant to give up this
scheme for passing 83° 24′.” Everything at the station was very
quiet, and much as when they left, except that a party had been sent
for the boat at Thank-God Harbor.




                                XV.
                       ACROSS GRINNELL LAND.


While the disappointment which attended the late expedition was very
great, it did not make Lieutenant Lockwood unhappy or morose. He was
only convinced, perhaps, that when the ice and snow and storms,
minions of the North Pole, undertake to play the game of April fool,
they do it very effectually. The absence of so many of his
companions from the station had a depressing effect upon his
spirits, but as usual he prepared the report of his last journey,
and duly submitted it to Lieutenant Greely, all the while suffering
from the severe rheumatic pains which invariably followed his
exposure to severe cold. Many of the men were complaining, and the
weather outlook was not encouraging, and yet, after consulting with
Lieutenant Greely, Lockwood fixed his mind upon an exploration up
and beyond the Archer Fiord. His idea was to go west, at least as
far as the English had gone along the northern shore of Grinnell
Land, feeling that he could hardly fail of finding something of
interest, and would perhaps make important discoveries. Indeed, he
might be able to determine the coast-line on the west. As usual, he
wanted the company of Sergeant Brainard and Esquimaux Frederick, and
would be content with one dog-team and supplies for thirty days,
with a proper supporting party for two days.

His spirits now became better than they had been, caused chiefly, as
he confessed, by the glorious sun; and yet he could not refrain from
thinking of home, and again resorting for comfort to his old family
letters, which he had so frequently read before.

His late failure had been a disappointment to himself as well as to
Lieutenant Greely and the men. Some of them seemed down in the mouth
and gloomy, and, by way of cheering them, Lieutenant Greely informed
them that he intended to leave Fort Conger on the 5th of August, or
as soon thereafter as the ice would permit. The personal relations
of Dr. Pavy and Lieutenant Kislingbury with Lieutenant Greely and
himself were not what they should have been, and, instead of getting
better, these relations seemed to grow worse. Could he not have gone
abroad on these fatiguing journeys to escape such companionship, he
would have felt utterly desperate. He certainly would cheerfully
take any risks during the summer than longer endure the existing
personal troubles. Lieutenant Kislingbury’s only thought seemed to
be that a sledge-party should be sent down to Littleton Island to
have the ship leave her supplies at Cape Sabine, therein merely
reflecting the latest opinion of the doctor.

The start for the western trip was made on the 25th of April, 1883,
with two sledges, each drawn by ten dogs and carrying about one
thousand pounds of rations for thirty days. They moved along the
south side of the harbor over very soft and deep snow, through which
the dogs labored, yet made their way with full loads. On getting
near “Sun Land,” however, the snow became abominable, and the
traveling was as bad as they had ever experienced. After trying for
some time to go ahead, but sticking incessantly, they turned short
off to the left, and after a great deal of work reached the shore,
Brainard _en route_ falling down a crack, and Lockwood feeling
convinced that his feet were frozen, as all sensation had left them.

Reaching Black Knob Point, where there was a tent, they found it
blown down. After some delay in repitching it, they started overland
toward Sun Bay, through soft and deep snow, and soon afterward
reached Stony Cape, where they encamped, all the party being very
much fatigued.

Resuming their march, they found the snow not particularly deep, but
with a light crust, not quite hard enough to bear, which made the
traveling fatiguing. They stopped to rest every hour, the weather
being really too warm for comfort, so that Lockwood actually longed
for the cold and hard work he had experienced in north Greenland.
They reached Keppel’s Head in three hours, and found that _Mr._
Keppel had a very stony face, and not a handsome head by any means,
being a lofty promontory and precipitous mass of rocks, very grand
and imposing. In two hours more they reached Hillock Depot, and
stopped to get some corned beef left there by Lockwood in June of
the preceding year, the English rations left there having all been
eaten by foxes.

On reaching Depot Point, they transferred everything from the
supporting sledge and sent it back to the station, afterward getting
along with the whole load very well. The high, steep cliffs on their
right threw their shadows almost across the fiord, and kept them out
of the glare of the sun moving along the northern horizon.
Fox-tracks constantly appeared. These tracks were found everywhere,
and yet it was but seldom that the animals themselves were seen; and
in thinking of their habits, Lockwood wondered if they laid up in
store their surplus food against the days of want. A tame fox kept
at the station would always take what was offered; but, when the
ice-wall was pulled down, a large supply was found which Mr. Reuben
had abandoned on regaining his liberty.

Greatly enjoying the pleasant weather, after finding some Esquimaux
relics, and making a vain effort to surmount a glacier, they finally
reached the head of Ella Bay, where, after some delay in finding
freshwater ice, and snow hard and deep enough to pitch the tent,
they went into camp. Lockwood and Frederick then took the team and
empty sledge, and proceeded up a little water-course a few miles.
Found less ice and more stones than they expected, but, having
ascertained that they could advance up the valley with some extra
labor, returned. Numerous fox, ptarmigan, hare, and musk-ox tracks
were seen, but no game. Brainard became permanent cook, as the
difficult business of making observations devolved entirely on
Lockwood. The cliffs about here were grand, at least three thousand
feet high.

Lockwood was disappointed in getting equal altitudes of the sun for
longitude (time), the lofty cliffs shutting out the orb of light on
each side of the meridian; and yet he had camped away out, a mile or
two from the cliffs, in order to avoid this difficulty. This was one
of the annoyances he had frequently experienced. After lying awake
for hours, or taking his sleep by short cat-naps with one eye open,
and running out in order to catch the sun at the right time, and all
this after a tiresome march, it was very provoking to have “some
miserable cliff” lift its ugly head right in his way. To get the
local time _well_, it was necessary to take the sun’s altitude some
hours before noon, and then catch the precise instant of the same
altitude in the afternoon, the sun being nearly on the meridian at a
time midway between the times of the two observations. This middle
time needed certain corrections, and then, the watch or chronometer
being regulated to Greenwich or Washington time, the difference of
time, or longitude, was known. The little streams occupying the
valleys (or cañons, as they should be called) of this Arctic country
are utterly insignificant compared with the depressions themselves.
A great, ditch-like break in the country, from two to five miles
wide and ten to thirty miles long, the sides of which are vertical
walls rising thousands of feet, may be the bed of a little brook
that in summer-time can be readily waded, and at other times of the
year can hardly be seen under the universal mantle of snow. It was
one of these that they followed in its windings. Here and there they
would encounter very deep snow, and the sledge-runners would stick
on the beds of stone, requiring all their efforts to get under way
again. In about an hour they came to a long, level area, indicating
Lake Katherine, which Lockwood had previously discovered and named
when up near here in the launch, and then the view up the valley was
unbroken as far as the glacier. Its terminal face could be clearly
seen, looking like a little wall of ice three or four feet high,
upon which one could readily step. Back of this the surface gently
ascended until lost in the snow-covered mountain-side far beyond.
The whole thing looked like a mass of barber’s lather, flowing
slowly down a deep ditch. For some hours, Lockwood and Brainard both
thought there would be no trouble in getting sledge and dogs up the
_little_ face to the undulating and gradually ascending surface
beyond. After proceeding some distance on the lake, Lockwood stopped
the sledge, and with Brainard went off to the right, ascending a low
ridge that ran parallel with the lake and between it and the high
cliffs on the north side of the valley. They found the top to be
four hundred feet high, and beyond was a wide ravine running down to
the bay. There they saw the tracks of three musk-oxen that had
evidently passed along on their way toward the fiord; also many
tracks of foxes, ptarmigan, lemming, and hare. Probably, the chief
reason for seeing so few animals, though so many tracks, was that
the birds and animals (excepting the musk-ox) are all pure white in
color for three fourths of the year. One might _look_ at a hare or
ptarmigan a few yards away and yet not _see_ it. The lake called
Katherine was found to be three or four miles long. At its farther
end, the ground was quite bare of snow in places, and everywhere the
snow was hard and thin, so that they went along very rapidly. Every
half-hour, they thought, would bring them to the glacier, but the
longer they traveled, the farther the glacier seemed to move away.
When only a short walk from the glacier, as Lockwood thought, he
stopped the sledge, and with Brainard went on ahead. The _face_
seemed much higher than they had supposed it, but it was only after
walking a mile that they realized what it was—a wall of ice,
straight up and down, stretching a mile across the valley from side
to side, and nearly two hundred feet high.

After surveying this wonderful object, they returned to the sledge
and pitched the tent, seeing no way of proceeding farther; and there
they remained a day or two to get a good look at the surroundings
before deciding upon the proper course to pursue. A decided fall in
the temperature was quite noticeable, due, doubtless, to the
proximity of the glacier. They got to sleep after a while, and
during the day took a good rest, getting up in the afternoon. The
twain went again to reconnoitre, leaving Frederick to hunt, or amuse
himself in any other way he chose. They went to the glacier-wall
again, and followed along its foot to the south side of the valley.
This wall was beautiful and imposing. From the top, one third of the
way downward, the ice was of a charming green color, and looked like
glass; below this came a white surface, in which small stones were
numerous imbedded in the ice, with here and there streaks of a
brownish color, like chocolate ice-cream mixed with vanilla. A close
approach showed that it was earth. At the foot of the wall, probably
concealing a “terminal moraine,” was an undulating bank of snow, and
over the upper edge of the wall hung wreaths of drifted snow that
looked like the icing of cake. The ground for some distance out was
strewed with blocks of ice and stone of all imaginable shapes and
sizes. On reaching the corner of the glacier, a similar wall was
seen extending up along its flank, abutting against an inclined
plain of immense bowlders and masses of rock, the _débris_ from the
cliffs above. The angle thus formed was full of large blocks of ice,
many recently detached from the wall of ice. Traveling along the
flank proved so difficult that they took to the incline and
scrambled for some time over immense masses of rock and snow, often
across deep cracks and openings concealed by the snow covering them.
After gaining an altitude of several hundred feet, they reached
something like a terrace formation, from which they overlooked all
the lower part of the glacier. It presented an undulating and
gradually rising surface, extending up the valley fifteen or twenty
miles, or more. Just opposite to them, a branch glacier came in from
the north through a gap in the mighty cliffs. The <DW72> of this
branch in places was very precipitous, showing great rents and
fissures. The surface of the glacier was free from snow, except,
here and there, in what seemed little depressions in the ice. There
was no way of climbing upon the glacier, much less of getting the
sledge and dogs up. It would simply have been ascending a precipice
of ice two hundred feet high. To get upon it had been their original
intention, although Frederick went through a pantomime at the time,
which they did not exactly understand, expressing how a sledge would
go faster and faster, and finally shoot over the edge like a
waterfall. Whether he ever had had such an experience in Greenland
he did not say, but he would never have had it more than once.
Seeing no way of getting on or along the glacier, except with the
greatest labor, Lockwood proposed to Brainard that they should
ascend the cliffs and get an outlook from the top. It did not seem
very far to the crest, and accordingly they started, but a more
severe climb they had never had, and hoped never to have again. It
was a very steep incline of rocks and snow all the way up. When the
barometer showed an elevation of twenty-five hundred feet, Lockwood
found himself on a ledge of rocks from which he could get neither up
nor down for some time. Beneath him was a steep surface of frozen
snow, falling on which he would have gone down-hill like an
avalanche. Brainard had inclined more to the left, and, by following
the side of a steep gully full of ice, had got ahead of him and out
of sight.

Finally, Lockwood reached what had long seemed the summit, and
stopped to rest. Presently Brainard came in sight, and said the top
was about a mile off. They then started together, walked over a
gradually ascending surface like the top of a vast dome, covered
with hard frozen snow and ice, and very smooth and slippery, giving
them frequent falls, and at 4 A. M. reached the summit and viewed
the country around for many miles. Being cold, they did not stay
long—only long enough to take bearings by compass of several distant
mountains to the south, snow and ice-clad peaks with many glaciers
between. To the west the country was less broken, and seemingly was
a lofty surface of snow and ice. They traced the glacier near their
camp about twenty miles toward the west-south-west, when it, and the
valley containing it, came to an end in a high mountain-ridge. This
wonderful feature of nature possessed great interest for Lockwood.
The face of the barometer gave an elevation of the mountain or cliff
on which they stood of 5,050 feet above the sea-level. As their tent
was only three hundred feet above tide-water, their climb had not
been a small one. They descended the mountain readily, although they
had to use hands as well as feet all the way down, in some places
carrying with them a land-slide of earth and stones.

They were constantly deceived as to distances and heights. A
headland on the fiord looked but a half-hour’s travel away, yet it
took two or three hours to reach it. So these cliffs, which looked
from below like an easy climb, proved the highest and steepest in
that benighted region. They got back to the tent after thirteen
hours of as hard work as they had yet experienced, and completely
tired out. They took meridian observation for latitude, and then
enjoyed a hearty meal of ptarmigan killed by Frederick during their
absence.

On the 2d of May, they left their beds and had breakfast at about
midnight. Found it snowing and unpleasant. Saw little else to do
than retrace their steps to Ella Bay, and thence proceed around to
Beatrix Bay and try to get inland from that place; spent the day,
however, in further reconnoitring, as Lockwood did not wish to leave
before night. Brainard went over to the northeast corner of the
glacier, but found no way of proceeding in that direction, and,
after carefully studying the surroundings, Lockwood could see no
means of getting on even with packs. Spent most of the day in taking
observations, etc. Occasionally they heard a noise like thunder,
caused by the falling in of sections of the great wall before them,
more formidable than any to be seen in China. The ground at the foot
of the wall was only the bed of a stream with blocks of ice, and
here and there a big bowlder. Everything being packed up and ready,
they started down the stream again, examining several deep breaks in
the cliffs to see if there was any prospect of _flanking_ the
glacier by means of one of them, but without success. There was no
way of getting up even a short distance, except by leaving dogs and
sledge behind and taking to the knapsacks, which was not then to be
thought of.

They got along without event and reached their old camp after
midnight, pitching the tent farther toward the north side, in order
to see the sun when ready to take observations. Shortly after
getting in, Frederick laid his whip down for an instant, and the
promising dog Barker gobbled up all except about six inches of the
butt-end in much less time than it takes to mention the fact. The
praises of Barker had been sung ever since his birth, and this was
only one of many of the tricks by which he proved his proficiency.
Frederick quickly made a new lash, however, and _gave it_ to Barker
on the next march.

On the 3d of May, as they pushed their way onward, they took a
series of angles and paced distances to get at the height of the
tremendous cliffs near at hand. The result gave an altitude of
forty-one hundred feet, which was almost vertical, the _débris_
extending a third of the way up, and not being quite so steep. They
then followed the north shore to Record Point, and thence took a
straight course for the head of Beatrix Bay. The cliffs were so
grand that Lockwood never tired of gazing at them, wondering how
they were first formed, and thinking what tremendous force of nature
had scooped out the awful chasm that comprised the fiord. These
walls, high as they were, were only one half or one third of the
height of the great snow-covered elevations back of and beyond them.

The appreciation of the grand in this region was frequently marred
by fatigue and hunger, and so it was on the present occasion,
Lockwood being glad enough when, at half-past one, they reached the
head of Beatrix Bay. In the valley which they now entered, they
concluded to spend another day. This one, like nearly all the
valleys in this region, was simply a cañon, a narrow, ditch-like
formation, walled in by steep, high cliffs. It was occupied as usual
by a very insignificant stream, the successor of some mighty mass of
water or ice which had originally hollowed out the great gorge.
This, and the head of Ella Bay, were the farthest reached by
Lieutenant Archer, R. N., who explored the fiord named for him to
find out whether it was simply a _fiord_, or a strait or channel, as
the Polaris people had asserted it to be. His Mount Neville,
thirty-eight hundred feet high, Lockwood looked for in vain as a
regular head to the valley, and finally fixed it as one of the
cliffs which, a little way back, rose slightly higher, to a dome.
Archer was a day making the ascent. Lockwood and Brainard walked
about four miles up the valley, and saw its termination nearly six
miles beyond, when they retraced their course to camp, greatly
disappointed in seeing no game, except two or three ptarmigans. The
valley seemed practicable for the sledge, and so, after considering
one or two narrow and rocky gorges which came in from the west, they
determined to follow it to its head (north-northwest), and then seek
farther a route in the direction desired, which was west or
southwest. As they proceeded, the weather became bright and clear,
and the mercury was only 2° below zero. They passed up the valley,
leaving in _cache_ for return two days’ rations. The dogs were in
excellent condition, and, in spite of stones, went along very well.
There was some ice in the stream-bed, and of snow quite an
abundance. Above the farthest reached the day before, a small lake
was discovered—a level expanse of snow with ice beneath. The lower
part of the valley had two distinct elevations, the stream-bed, a
very easy grade, forming one, while along the stream extended broken
terraces, termed shoulders, which from the cliffs projected out on
either side, sometimes beyond the middle of the valley, which was
from one to three miles wide. The breadth decreased as they
ascended, and after several miles it was but a few hundred yards
wide. At this point, they suddenly came to a place where the valley
seemed to run out, the whole breadth being a mass of rocks. Good
traveling was seen beyond, however, and, after working an hour
doubling up (taking half-load at a time), they got over, and shortly
afterward the real end of the valley was reached. They then turned
short off to the north, and, going up a steep, rocky ravine, about
midnight pitched the tent for further survey of the scene on the
morrow.

From this camp a low-looking “hog-back” was seen to close in the
head of the valley. They determined to ascend this and get a look at
the country, it seeming certain that the _big_ sledge could go no
farther. After making some coffee as strong as it could be made, and
drinking about a quart each, to bolster up their spirits, the twain
again started out, leaving Frederick to crawl into his sleeping-bag
or keep warm as best he might. They proceeded north up a rocky
ravine about a mile, and then came to a level plain stretching
northward, some half a dozen miles farther, to a line of cliffs
running across which seemed to indicate another valley or lake. To
the right were two or three high, dome-shaped elevations, and to the
left was Mount Easy, so called, afterward, on account of the ease
with which they ascended it, and in contradistinction to Mount
Difficult, the last they had ascended. They soon came to a pretty
little lake—Lake Carolyn—only a few miles long. This they crossed,
and, in places where the snow had been blown off, they could see
down through the beautiful transparent ice, seven feet in thickness,
even to the stones on the bottom of the lake near the shore. This
lake had an elevation of eleven hundred feet above the sea. In three
hours from camp, they reached the top of the mountain, an elevation
of 2,720 feet, and had a good view. To the south the country was
very high, and several glacier-walls came into view, probably
connections of the glacier above Ella Bay. The Henrietta Nesmith
glacier, the Garfield range, and the United States Mountains, were
plainly seen, and also the depression in which lay Lake Hazen. Snow
and ice in every direction. The cliffs to the north of the camp were
very conspicuous, but whether along a valley or lake they could not
make out. They stayed on top two hours, and then descended the south
side of the mountain through a deep ravine filled in places with
snow-drifts, and lower down with stones and bowlders. However, they
went down very rapidly, and got to camp in two hours. The cliffs to
the north seeming to extend to the west, Lockwood decided to visit
them and take that route. The only other feasible route was by way
of the ravine they had descended from the mountain-top.

Shortly after midnight of the 7th, Frederick had the dogs and little
sledge ready, and, with nothing upon it but the shot-gun, hatchet,
and telescope, they all started. The dogs were irrepressible, and
took the little sledge over the rocks in a way calculated to <DW36>
all hands, for they had to run alongside and hold on to the
upstanders to keep up. Occasionally a runner of the sledge would
catch under a bowlder and bring the sledge to a sudden stand-still,
the immense strain of the strong dogs threatening to break it. On
reaching the lake, all three of the men managed to crowd upon the
sledge, and the dogs went at a rapid trot over its smooth, level
surface. Beyond Lake Carolyn was a ravine leading toward the river,
and there the dogs took to a gallop, and in an hour they reached a
rocky height overlooking a long, wide valley walled in on the north
side by high, precipitous cliffs, and on the south by heights of
even greater elevation, but not so steep. There seemed no way,
however, to get down. The water-course from the lake here became a
narrow gorge blocked with large bowlders, the spaces between which
were full of soft snow. It was not inviting, but they tried it, and
in an hour reached the river-bed, the descent being most laborious.
Here they found themselves only four hundred feet above the
sea-level, and, turning to the right, went down-stream in a
northeastern direction, the barometer constantly showing that they
were going _down_-stream. _En route_ they passed over several small
lakes formed by expansions of the stream. In many places the ice was
very thick and beautifully transparent. Seven miles from Rocky
Gorge, where they entered the river, they suddenly saw four
musk-oxen. Frederick being very anxious for slaughter was allowed to
go after them, while Brainard remained to watch the sledge and dogs,
and Lockwood went off to the right to take some compass-bearings.
After a while he heard a shot from Frederick, and saw one of the
animals fall. The others did not seem at all frightened, but stood
by their dead comrade until Frederick _drove_ them away by throwing
stones at them. The dogs became greatly excited, and, going to where
the dead game lay—a second ox having been killed—they gorged
themselves with the entrails until there was danger of ruining their
own.

Having returned to the camp, Lockwood now projected a special trip
westward of twelve days, and prepared his outfit as follows:
Shelter-tent, sleeping-bags, axe, sextant, etc., telescope, shot-gun
and ammunition, medicine, cook’s bag, rubber blankets, small lamp,
knapsacks, snow-shoes, rations for three at forty-five ounces each
per day, and one sack of pemmican for dogs; total, 328¼ pounds. The
_large_ tent was left standing with the big sledge alongside and the
American flag flying from the upstander. They got off at an early
hour on the 8th with the dogs in excellent condition. Much work was
required to get over the rocks, but after that they proceeded
satisfactorily until near the valley. This was found to be quite
wide for a region where everything of the kind was more like a cañon
than a valley in the ordinary sense. Its width was two or three
miles, or perhaps in some places four, and the general gradients of
the stream-bed (Dodge River) were very slight, perhaps thirty feet
to the mile. Narrow, deep cuts in the cliffs and high ground around
indicated tributary streams.

Frederick having shot a hare, and gathered up the other food, they
proceeded on their way, traveling now over thick, clear ice and hard
snow, with now and then patches of stones. The valley seemed to come
to an end some fifteen miles up-stream, a range of high hills
running directly across it.

After various tribulations in exploring a side gorge, at midnight on
the 10th of May the party resumed travel up the valley. The
condition of the sledge-runners rendered it necessary to reduce the
weight to the least amount possible. This doubtless pleased the
dogs, for the driver had to restrain their ardor. Leaving the sledge
to pursue its way along the base of the hills, Lockwood ascended a
considerable elevation and obtained a good outlook over the country.
He was very agreeably surprised to find at the farther end of a gap
up stream an apparent prolongation of the valley in the same general
direction. On either side of this prolongation was a range of low
heights, while the intermediate surface looked very level—so level
that he took it for a long lake. To the left, just outside the
heights on that side of the valley, he could see at intervals a
glacier-wall, the north boundary of a great _mer de glace_. About
twenty miles distant, the valley seemed again to be shut in by a
range of hills, but over the tops of them, and at a great elevation
on the distant horizon, he saw what seemed to be a snow-bank. This
he made his objective point. Passing onward through the gap, they
came to a long and picturesque lake which was named Lake Nan after
an interesting niece; and coming to a place near the end of the
valley, a break in the low heights to the left revealed the glacier
they had before seen. Its surface was very distinct. Extending to
the south a few miles, it soon reached an elevation that formed the
horizon in that direction. It seemed a vast undulating surface, and,
as was afterward discovered, is the backbone of Grinnell Land. The
wall of the glacier near which they camped presented a vertical face
of solid ice 140 feet high. At intervals they heard the sound of
falling ice—small fragments which became detached and dropped to the
base. The altitude of this camp above the sea-level was found to be
1,240 feet, and of Lake Nan 920 feet; that of their last camp was
685 feet, and of the first camp in the valley, 420 feet.

Passing onward, they crossed several small lakes close along the
wall, with brooks emptying into them from the north. In a few hours
they were on the divide, the surface to the north having more <DW72>
than that on the other side. The summit gave an elevation by
barometer of 2,610 feet, about 400 feet higher than where they left
the wall. They had an extensive view to the east, and could see
Dodge River as far as they had explored it, also Mount Easy and the
country adjacent. To the southeast, south, and southwest, was seen
the glacier, which was named after Agassiz. It formed the horizon
for half a dozen miles in these directions. All the ice-capped
country and glaciers seen from the former camps were found to be
connected with, and to form a part of this one glacier. Toward the
north, the country had comparatively little snow. Presently they
came in view of a mountain-peak toward the northwest, not many miles
distant, which was recognized as Mount Arthur, the farthest point
reached by Lieutenant Greely during the previous year. Away beyond
it were seen very distinctly the United States and Garfield
Mountains. Just to the west of Mount Arthur, they discovered a large
lake, which Lockwood named Lake Fletcher. They were now on a surface
rapidly sloping to the west. Some miles distant in this direction
appeared a broken range of cliffs and mountains, and between their
stand-point and these mountains was a wide valley, connected by a
stream with Lake Fletcher, and a small lake, close to the Chinese
Wall, which they called Lake Harry, the latter having an elevation
of 1,320 feet. They crossed Lake Harry, and beyond it came to
another called Lake Bessie, having an elevation of 1,630 feet, and
covered with deep snow.

Reaching the cliffs to the west, they found the descent exceedingly
precipitous and rugged. No other passage offered than that through a
gorge which was filled with ice and hard snow, whose surface was
almost perpendicular. As this was the only passage, they went into
camp to devise ways and means. Next morning, Lockwood attached all
the ropes he had, including dog-traces, to the sledge, and while he
rode to guide caused the others to ease down the sledge.
Unfortunately, the rope was too short, and those at the top let go.
Gravity carried the sledge and rider down the foot of the <DW72>, now
somewhat reduced, with fearful rapidity, till they brought up
against rocks covered with snow, fortunately without serious damage.
The other men and dogs got down as best they could, the former
digging footholds as they progressed.

Further descending the cañon, they came to another glacier
stretching entirely across their way, and, as it seemed impossible
to surmount it or the walls on either side, they came to a halt and
enjoyed a night of rest. The next day they pushed on, though
troubled with snow-blindness, and, overcoming the obstacle of the
previous day, crossed a lake and encamped on its farther end. On the
following day, after passing through a gorge, the outlet of the
lake, between high cliffs, they were surprised to see a number of
floebergs similar in every respect to the floebergs of the east
Grinnell coast. At the same time they found the water to be _salt_,
and saw the fresh tracks of a bear. These facts convinced Lockwood
that they were near the western sea, probably at the head of a
fiord. This soon became still more apparent. Here they also saw
another glacier coming in some miles west of the last. They crossed
a crack of open water, formed by the tide, and found themselves on
well-recognized floe-ice, quite level but covered in places with
deep snow. Ahead of them, twenty miles distant, on the opposite side
of the fiord, was a bold headland, and toward this they now directed
their course. This fiord, which Lockwood named after Lieutenant
Greely, separated at its head into two bays. These he called, after
Greely’s daughters, Adola and Antoinette. The latter bay they were
now crossing, while they bore away to the north. It had become very
foggy, and was snowing and blowing hard. When some miles out they
crossed other bear-tracks, and finally reached the cape for which
they had been striving. Here the south shore of the fiord bent off
toward the west-southwest being very wide and walled in on all sides
by steep cliffs broken in a few places by branch fiords or bays.
They encamped at the cape on the 13th, had supper, and soon turned
in to sleep and fast as long as possible, or until the storm abated,
as the party was now reduced to what they called a starvation
allowance. There was nothing to do but to make observations when the
sun appeared.

The mouth of the fiord at the north side was found to be about forty
miles off, but the snow was deep and soft, and they could not
attempt it without rations, all of which was extremely provoking.
The sun became dimly visible through a snow-storm, looking like a
grease-spot in the sky; but, notwithstanding, observations were
attempted for latitude and longitude, and many compass-bearings were
taken. At times everything was shut out of sight excepting the
nearest cliff. Brainard feared they would have a very hard time in
getting back, and Frederick evidently thought he was a long distance
from Fort Conger, seeming rather “down in the mouth.”

Soon after breakfast on the 15th, Lockwood and Brainard started to
ascend the cliffs near by, the weather having partially cleared.
They did so by means of a ravine opposite the camp, and had hardly
reached the top before the snow began to fall again, and the wind to
blow from the east; but, notwithstanding, they saw a large glacier
to the south twenty or thirty miles away, and another to the
northwest at about the same distance. The first was apparently an
offshoot of the great “Chinese Wall” already mentioned. They saw
also a lofty range of mountains far to the north, running generally
parallel with the fiord. The cliffs to the west shut out the mouth
of the fiord, and, before they could get far enough in that
direction to see over them, the coming storm obscured almost
everything. These cliffs were 2,140 feet high by the barometer, and
almost vertical. The driving snow now became very uncomfortable,
and, after going three miles westward, they concluded to return. _En
route_, they found a number of fossils of what seemed to be trees,
snakes, or fishes, Brainard being the first to notice them. They
also saw a ptarmigan, an owl, and some snow-buntings, these being
the only living objects observed. Reached the tent after six hours’
absence, and found Frederick tramping around in the snow, not
knowing what to do with himself. After supper, all three of the
party with the sledge and dogs went an hour’s journey toward the
opposite shore of the fiord, ten miles away. The sky was partially
clear, and they got a very good view down the fiord, the telescope
bringing into view another cape (Cape Lockwood). Between that and
the cape on the north side (Cape Brainard), they failed to see any
land, though they examined long and carefully with the telescope.
The fiord between those two capes was very wide. Several branch
fiords, or what appeared to be such, were noticed. Cape Lockwood
seemed to be on the farther side of one of these, or on an island.
The country on both sides of the fiord was very elevated, that on
the north side much broken, and that on the south, away from the
fiord, apparently an ice-clad surface rising into immense, dome-like
undulations against the horizon.

After a meager breakfast, they started on their return, finding the
snow very deep and soft. The effect of short rations on the dogs was
noticed. They saw two seals lying on the ice, which Frederick tried
hard to shoot, but in vain. Lockwood was especially anxious to get a
seal, for it looked as if they would have to kill one dog to save
the remainder. After much trouble for want of food, they resumed
their journey on the 17th, verifying at various points the
observations that had been previously made in regard to the great
ice-wall and the lake over which they had already passed.

On reaching the end of the lake, they began the ascent of the
ravine. The snow at the head of the ravine was very soft and deep,
and they had hard work to get through it. Arriving at the big
snow-drift which they had descended with so much difficulty and
danger, it became a question how to ascend, but they managed it by
first cutting some steps and getting the dogs up, and then,
attaching them by long lines to the sledge below, men and dogs
together pulled the load up the almost vertical face. The party went
into camp at the old place, and decided to kill one of the dogs, yet
very reluctantly, Frederick opposing it. Brainard had suggested
White Kooney, but Frederick named Button, a young dog. Button had
eaten up his harness that morning, and this decided his fate. He was
shot by Frederick, and soon the carcass was skinned and presented to
his brethren. Old Howler at once seized a hind-quarter, but the
others did nothing more than smell the meat. They walked around it
in a reflective mood, debating whether to yield to their hunger or
to their repugnance. When the party awoke next morning, nothing
remained of poor Button but some of the larger bones.

On the 18th, Lockwood and Brainard ascended a neighboring mountain
and got a look at the country. The ascent was easy and they gained
the top in a short time; altitude, 2,008 feet. From this point they
could see the “Chinese Wall” stretching off to the southwest forty
miles, over hills and dales, as far as the glacier south of Fossil
Mountain, although Lockwood could not recognize that particular
glacier. The glaciers at the two ends of the lake, near Greely
Fiord, were readily seen to be offshoots of the greater one, whose
surface toward the south could be seen for several miles. In that
direction, Lockwood took the bearings of several ice-capped
mountains, one, as he thought, identical with a very high mountain
seen to the south from Antoinette Bay. The “Chinese Wall” had the
same general aspect everywhere—a vertical face of pure white or
green ice upward of two hundred feet high, and extending across the
country in a fashion he could liken to nothing else.

From here Lockwood made a short excursion by himself to Lake Harry,
discovered a number of other small lakes, and obtained the altitude
of several localities. He returned to camp only to find the dogs in
a bad way for food, and a scarcity for himself and men. Resuming
their course the next morning, after the dog Howler had performed
the remarkable feat of stealing a piece of meat when it was cooking
on the alcohol-stove, they passed many of the localities they had
seen before, but in some cases hardly recognized them on account of
the flying snow. Making two marches in twenty-four hours, they
reached their first camp, and found the tent blown down, but the big
sledge in its position, with the American flag flying over it as
gayly as if in a pleasant and genial clime. The dogs were gratified
with a good feast of pemmican, and the men themselves found it
delightful, once more to have a full supply of food.

Their next move was for Archer Fiord, by way of Beatrix Bay and
Record Point. They crossed another lake, where, as once before, they
could see the bottom through ice that was seven feet in thickness,
having revisited the north side of Musk-ox Valley, which was
separated from the lake by a very low and narrow divide. Dodge River
was seen bending off to the northeast toward Howgate Fiord. The
surroundings were very picturesque, but barren and desolate in the
extreme. They saw no signs of game, and even the poor, stunted
vegetation of the region was wanting. Rocks and snow, with stretches
of bare ground, composed the prospect.

The lake alluded to above was about twelve miles long—a considerable
sheet of water—and, no doubt, in summer would be an interesting
place to visit, as places go in the Arctic regions.

After camping they proceeded along to the east of Murray Island, the
weather cloudy and calm. Depot Point was revisited, to look for the
English rations, but nothing found.

Having killed a seal, they took the meat and blubber along, and
camped about ten miles from Bulley’s Lump, where they had a good
feast of meat and liver. The latter was greatly relished, Brainard
making it into many dishes.

On the 24th, they enjoyed their breakfast at midnight, Lockwood
calling it a real _midnight mass_, as it was a black mass of
seal-liver, English meat, corned beef, potatoes, and hard bread, all
cooked together in one stew which was very good, notwithstanding its
miscellaneous character.

The comments of Lockwood, in regard to the expedition, and how
matters were at the station, were as follow:

“No such word as ‘failed’ to write this time, I am thankful to say,
but the happy reflection is mine that I accomplished more than any
one expected, and more than I myself dared hope—the discovery of the
western sea, and hence the western coast-line of Grinnell Land. I
have now the rather ponderous task of preparing a report, making a
map, and writing out this journal from my notes. Tidal observations
have been taken at Capes Baird, Distant, and Beechy, simultaneously,
showing that the tides arrive at these places in the order named.
This is very singular, as the previous expeditions into these parts
established (?) the tides as coming from the north. This agrees,
however, with the order of their arrival at Cape Sumner, Gap Valley,
and Black Horn Cliffs, where I took observations in April. No more
musk-ox meat left; it ran out on the 20th inst., and hunting-parties
sent out April 25th saw nothing. I surmised as much, from the
absence of game on my trip, though Brainard did not agree with me.
Two seals have been shot, but only one secured.

“I find the social relations of our room not improved—rather worse
than better. Dr. P., though he shook hands and asked me several
questions as to my trip, relapsed into silence, which he seldom
breaks. Lieutenant K. had but one question to ask. I often contrast
ours with the pleasant relations of the English officers when here,
and think how much happier we should be in following their example.
As it is, I soon relapse into _ennui_ and apathy. A sledge-journey,
with all its trials, is preferable to this. I view those ahead of us
with indifference, as it will rid me of this forced association.
Another winter would render me a maniac, or put me under a cairn.

“The spirits of the men seem good. The sun has revived them. Merry
groups may be seen at any time on the sunny sides of the house.

“How often do I think of home, which now seems to me like a series
of pictures or objects long since seen! how often of my dear father,
whom may a kind Providence spare for many, many years!

“Both Brainard and I lost a score of pounds weight on our late trip;
but we are rapidly regaining our avoirdupois. My appetite is
frightful, and nothing comes amiss. I want to eat every three or
four hours. Fortunately, we have a supply of musk-ox beef on hand,
having killed three recently aggregating four hundred pounds, to
which are added many water and other fowl daily brought in. There
was felt at one time some apprehension that our resource in this
respect had disappeared, and fears were entertained of scurvy. The
men seem to have fared so well that their appetites have become
dainty. One would suppose that pork and beans were not staples at
our army posts.

“Israel makes my _farthest_ of the last trip, latitude 80° 47´,
longitude 88° 29´. Hence my explorations extend over 2½° of latitude
and 38° of longitude. Have plotted my western journey, and find that
my farthest carries me far off the English map. I took latitude and
longitude observations at every camp, and also frequent
compass-bearings; to reconcile all these is a task.

“Rice has taken a photograph of my corner, where I do all my work
and also sleep.

“Have been reading the authorities on glaciers, and regret I did not
inform myself better before going out. But perhaps that Chinese Wall
will make up for my short-comings.

“Those rheumatic pains I had a year ago have returned and trouble me
much. I must be moving again soon.

“Several of the dogs, becoming mangy, have been shot. Poor old
‘Howler,’ whom we left on the ice-floe, hoping he would recover and
follow us, was found dead near the same place. Oh! the hours of
misery I have spent in sleeping-bags, kept awake by that howling
brute—howling, perhaps, just because another dog looked at him! But,
for all his howlings and stealings, the ex-king was a good worker
and did his duty, and that should be all required of any one, man or
dog. May he rest in peace in the happy hunting-grounds of the canine
race! Frederick, I presume, will put on crape for him.”




                                XVI.
                        PREPARING FOR HOME.


Hardly had Lieutenant Lockwood reoccupied his _corner_ long enough
to get thoroughly rested and warm, before we find him hard at work
again and ready for any emergency. At the request of Lieutenant
Greely, he undertook a task in which he himself feared that he
manifested more zeal than discretion. Dr. Pavy, the natural history
custodian of the expedition, having failed to render reports of the
collections, or properly care for them, was relieved soon after
Lockwood’s return from the west, and the department was transferred
to Lockwood. With very little aid from the doctor, he made lists and
secured the specimens from further injury, the men having shown much
industry and zeal in adding to the collection. In the mean time,
Fredericks, who was a saddler by trade, rendered good service by
making for Lockwood and the men seal-skin boots, which were of great
use; and he also made himself useful by overhauling the
sleeping-bags and making new ones for the contemplated boat-voyage
to Littleton Island at a later day. Snyder had also made some
wearing gear for use on board the relief-ship.

“What a change for us all,” wrote Lockwood on the 3d of June, “if we
ever return home! And how much to talk about, and how much to hear!
Just two years ago, I left Baltimore on the Nova Scotia, to join the
Proteus at St. John’s. Open water is reported in the straits near
Cape Baird. How eagerly we watch for any change that may effect our
release!”

On the 22d of June, a party was sent up the Bellows for game and
returned successful, having killed eight musk-oxen, one seal, and a
few geese, all of which were duly brought in. Many waterfowl and
ptarmigans were brought from other points; and then followed a grand
dinner in honor of Dr. Pavy’s birthday. To show the social relations
of the officers, Lockwood says, “The only remark at dinner was a
very sage one by myself, viz., that the sun was now on his way
south, to which Lieutenant Greely assented.

“The men all busy and all cheerful. Lieutenant Greely remarked that
it did not look as if the ‘gloom which their coming fate cast over
the spirits of the men’ was quite as deep as Lieutenant Kislingbury
thought it to be. Another day gone,” wrote Lockwood—“another day
nearer the end of our stay here! A miserable, gloomy day it is too.
Snow, or snow mixed with rain, all day, and last night it blew a
gale from the right direction to clear away the ice—north-east. I
think myself now in excellent condition for a hermit’s life, having
had two years’ experience of a life not very dissimilar.”

On the 3d of June, Lockwood made the ascent of an immense “hog-back”
north of the station. Hog-back was the term used by the English to
designate the oval-shaped elevations so common in this region, being
neither mountain nor table-land, but immense undulations which, with
more or less <DW72>, rise three, four, or even five thousand feet
above the sea-level. He was the first to ascend this one, and did so
to view the country northwest of it, which he desired to explore. It
was the highest of a series of ridges, half a mile or so apart, each
just high enough to suggest the idea of its being the genuine top,
but showing another beyond still higher. He pressed on, frequently
resting, and finally _did_ reach the top, and saw, beyond, the
United States Mountains in the distance. The view from this
elevation, more than half a mile above the sea-level, was superb.
The straits seemed one solid mass of ice. The Greenland shore and
Archer’s Fiord were in full view. The whole land was made up of
mountains.

The 4th of July was celebrated by a game of baseball, in which
Lieutenant Greely took part; also the Esquimaux, but they confined
themselves to running after the ball. A good dinner followed, to
which Lieutenant Greely contributed four bottles of Sauterne; but
the doctor declined the wine, and made a hasty meal. They also had a
rifle-match. Several of the men donned white shirts and other
“store-clothes,” metamorphosing themselves completely, flannel
shirts, with trousers in boots, being the usual costume.

On the same day Lieutenant Greely issued an order directing Dr. Pavy
to turn over to Lieutenant Lockwood all the medical stores,
journals, and collections, the former having declined to renew his
engagement, which had expired. On the 11th of July, Lockwood started
with Brainard on an exploration toward the northwest with a view of
reaching, if possible, the United States range of mountains. They
carried an outfit weighing one hundred pounds, or twenty-five pounds
for each man at the start, as Henry and Biederbick were to help them
with the impedimenta for one day and then return. They went without
sledge or tent, and carried only blanket, sleeping-bags, a small
lamp, and a few pounds of food, with instruments, snow-shoes, etc.
They soon reached the top of the hog-back beyond “Sugar-Loaf,” and
afterward the true hog-back Lockwood had visited before, finding it
2,700 feet high. Thence they kept a north-northwest course toward a
prominent glacier in the United States Range, moving about parallel
to North Valley Creek, which empties into St. Patrick’s Bay. After
traveling fourteen miles they camped—that is, selected as smooth and
sheltered a spot as could be found, made some tea, spread out the
sleeping-bags, and crawled in.

Henry and Biederbick left the next morning evidently well satisfied
to forego the pleasures of this trip. Their departure rendered it
necessary to reduce the load somewhat, which was done by leaving
behind the snow-shoes and rubber spread, trusting to luck to find a
bare spot for their sleeping-bag. After tramping through much wet
snow alternating with mud and stones, and getting their feet soaking
wet, they came to two deep gorges close together, each occupied by a
considerable stream of water. They crossed these and ascended a dome
beyond, three thousand feet high, and thence came to a still larger
stream whose gorge was one thousand feet deep. Here they stopped for
the night after a tramp of twelve miles. The next morning the sky
was overcast, with barometric indications of a storm; but they
continued their way with reduced loads, having only one day’s food
left. Following the stream northwest a few miles, they crossed it
and ascended a high elevation, from which the United States range
could be very distinctly viewed, and then came to the conclusion
that they had gone far enough.

With the telescope they could see distinctly, about twenty miles
away, the walls of the great glacier, and its face ten miles wide.
In fact, the whole range was full of glaciers. The country
intervening between them and the glaciers seemed comparatively
level. At noon they started back, and did not stop until the
camping-place of the night before was reached. Thence, after a drink
of tea and something to eat, abandoning their sleeping-bags, they
made for their first camp, where had been left the rubber spread and
one extra bag. The traveling was execrable, but they reached Fort
Conger on the 14th, hungry, tired, and decidedly used up.

On the 24th, preparations began for the proposed boat-journey toward
the south on which they would start when the ice would permit.
Lockwood, in obedience to a general order, prepared to take no
clothing except what he wore, and the few pounds of his baggage
would consist of his journal and other papers. He felt depressed and
low-spirited, and totally indifferent as to the risks they were to
encounter.

The straits were reported clear of ice below Cape Lieber on the
26th, but the bay near by was still full, though with many leads.
Every preparation was made to leave on the 1st of August, if
possible, or as soon after as the ice would allow. The men fiddled
and sang, and seemed in joyous spirits; and the hilarity was kept up
by the dogs Ritenbank and Ask-him having a terrible fight, resulting
in victory to the latter. The probable consequence was that Ask-him
would now be king. Ritenbank went about with his head down and tail
between his legs, a dethroned and friendless monarch. The usurper’s
reign, however, was likely to be a short one, as, on the party’s
leaving, the dogs would either be shot or left to starve to death.

The 5th of August arrived, and the ship was the only thing talked
about. Some of the men reported smoke down the straits, but it was
soon found to be only water-clouds or fog. In the midst of these
excitements, Lockwood gave expression to the following feelings: “As
the time for moving approaches, I feel a singular apathy. If we had
plenty of fresh meat and more good books, I could stand another
winter here.”

Soon after, heavy winds from the south making great changes in the
condition of the ice, active preparations were made for leaving.

Lockwood writes: “I don’t feel as though I was going away, much less
toward the south. Have felt more stirred up on beginning a
sledge-journey.”


  TABULATED STATEMENT OF THE DISTANCE TRAVELED TO LOCKWOOD ISLAND.

                           Distance traveled.      Time.
                        Adv     Tr    Add    Tot      Adv       Tr       MPH
                          Miles—Geographical.     Hours.    Geo. M.
  OUT.
  Fort Conger to Boat    48     67    157    224      21½       28¼     2·23
    Camp
  Boat Camp to           36     86     25    111      18¾       44⅓     1·92
    sea-coast
  Sea-coast to Cape     37½    103½    12    113      21½     47¹/₁₂    1·74
    Bryant
  Cape Bryant to Cape    60    118     ..    118      32      55⁵/₁₂    1·87
    Britannia
  Cape Britannia to      95     95     ..     95      39⅔       48⅙     2·39
    farthest
     Total (out)        267½   469½   194    701     133½      223¾     2·07
  BACK.
  Farthest to Cape       95     95     ..     95      37⅓       41¾     2·52
    Britannia
  Cape Britannia to      60     60     ..     60      25¾       28      2·33
    Cape Bryant
  Cape Bryant to Boat   61½    61½     ..    61½      27¼       36½     2·25
    Camp
  Boat Camp to Fort      48     48     ..     48      22½       28⅓     2·13
    Conger
     Total (back)       264½   264½    ..    264½    112⅚     134²/₁₂   2·34
  Aggregate (out and    541    734    194    965½  245¹¹/₁₂    357⅚     2·20
    back)
  Aggregate (out and    623     ..     ..    1069
    back) in statute
    miles

  Key to Headings:
    Adv: Advanced.
    Add: Additional miles traveled.
    Tr: Traveled.
    Tot: Total.
    MPH: Number of miles per hour.

The word “advanced,” both here and in the journal, refers to the
simple distance from camp to camp, and the actual time occupied in
making that distance—all stops _deducted_.

The word “traveled” includes total number of miles traveled—the
number of miles advanced added to those traveled in going back and
forth in “doubling up.” The time corresponding refers to the whole
time from leaving one camp to arriving at the next, all stops
included.

The “additional miles” refer to incidental journeys not numbered as
marches.

The rate per hour is computed from the distance and time _advanced_.

The whole statement is confined to the dog-sledge.




                               XVII.
                          HOMEWARD BOUND.


The time having arrived, the final orders were given for the Arctic
exiles to make ready for the first stage of travel leading to their
far-distant home. They were now to leave the station at Fort Conger,
and, as best they could, find their way to Littleton Island, where
they hoped to meet a vessel that would take them back to
Newfoundland. They were to depart in boats, viz., the steam-launch
Lady Greely, a whale-boat, an English boat of which they had come
into possession, and a still smaller affair, that might prove
serviceable for special purposes.

The journal kept by Lieutenant Lockwood after his departure from
Fort Conger was written in short-hand, as always while in the field,
and is a very complete record. In the following pages, only a brief
summary of purely personal incidents will be attempted, without
presuming to give the phraseology of the youthful explorer.

On the 9th of August, the little fleet pushed off from shore, laden
with the twenty-five adventurers and a comfortable supply of
provisions. They reached Bellot Island without much trouble, but
afterward encountered a good deal of ice, and, while working very
hard to get through, Rice accidentally fell overboard, which was for
him a poor beginning. The ice continued to be troublesome until the
close of the next day, when the boats were so severely nipped that
they had to be drawn up on the floe. Afterward, open water appearing
all the way across the fiord, the launch and the other boats made a
successful crossing nearly opposite Sun Bay. They reached the depot
near Cape Baird, at about 2 P. M., up to which hour, from the time
of leaving Fort Conger, they had not been able to secure any sleep,
nor anything to drink but cold water. Reaching Cape Lieber on the
11th in a snow-storm, they landed on a bluff about a mile from the
cape, where they waited for the ice to move, so that they might
continue on their route toward the south along the western shore of
the strait. The only animals seen in that vicinity were two
narwhals, fighting near the shore. The fog now became so very dense
that no headway could be made, and this gave them an opportunity to
obtain some needed rest. Their next advance was in the midst of a
severe storm of wind and snow, in spite of which they reached Carl
Ritter Bay on the morning of the 12th. The next morning, while they
had open water near the shore, they discovered ice-barriers
extending to the south as far as they could see. At this point a
young seal was killed, which was greatly enjoyed by all of the
party; but this luxury, in the case of Lockwood, was counterbalanced
by the discomfort of sleeping on shore without any protection
excepting that of his bag. He also spent several nights on a
floe-berg, where, by laying his sleeping-bag on a sheep-skin, he
slept more comfortably. From the 13th until the 20th, when the party
reached Rawlings’s Bay, it was a continual conflict with floating
ice, snow-storms, and fog, the monotony of the struggle having been
broken by an accident to the launch, and also one to Lieutenant
Greely, who had a fall into the water, from which he was rescued
without harm. At all the places where they encamped, they had great
difficulty in securing a safe harbor for the launch. Having passed
across Richardson Bay in safety and reached Cape Collinson, they
found about one hundred and twenty, out of two hundred and forty,
English rations which had been deposited there, the missing portion
having been eaten by the foxes. On the 22d they reached Scoresby
Bay, where observations of the strait showed it to be full of
floating ice; and in this vicinity they were brought to a halt by
the ice-pack near the shore at Cape John Barrow. Here the boats were
pulled up on the floe, and, as the thick sludge-ice was all around,
no open water in sight, and the supply of coal getting very low, the
prospect was gloomy in the extreme. When able to continue on their
course, the travelers were still greatly troubled by heavy fogs, and
while passing over a space of open water, abounding in floe-bergs
which could not be seen, they were in constant danger of being lost.
Notwithstanding all these obstacles, they pushed their way onward,
and in due time reached Cape Louis Napoleon, Cape Hawks, and
Princess Marie Bay, when they were again stopped by the floating
ice, and detained by the newly formed ice.

In his desire to comply with the order as to weight of baggage,
Lockwood had left his seal-skin coat at Fort Conger, but this step
he afterward regretted, as the weather continued stormy, and he was
greatly exposed to the cold. To this was added the misfortune of
having a badly fitting seal-skin boot which gave him great pain, so
that he had to resort to a pair of moccasins. When the boats were
caught in floes and detained for days, the only exercise available
was that of walking over the level floes. Some of the men were wont
to march around, under the light of the moon, singing aloud their
wild and uncouth songs. When tired of walking, Lockwood would creep
into a cozy corner of the launch, and pore over a pocket copy of
Shakespeare which he had fortunately brought along; and then, after
getting into his sleeping-bag, his thoughts would wander far away
and find expression in such words as these: “What are they doing at
home? How often I think of the dear ones there! The dangers and
uncertainties ahead of us are only aggravated by the thoughts of the
concern felt by them on my account. Most of us have given up the
idea of getting home this fall.”

On the 3d of September, while in the floe below Cape Hawks,
Lieutenant Greely held a consultation with Lockwood, Kislingbury,
Pavy, and Brainard, expressing the opinion that their situation was
critical, and that they were really working for their lives. One of
the suggestions was that the launch should be abandoned, and further
progress made in the smaller boats along the western shore of the
strait; but to this, Greely and the majority objected, still hoping
that they might yet be able to reach Littleton Island through a lead
or over the young ice. On the 6th the hunter Jans killed his fourth
seal, and was rewarded by a drink of rum. After five more days of
travel, and while approaching Cocked-Hat Island, there was a great
excitement caused by the report that one of the men had heard the
barking of dogs, whereupon guns were fired and a flag displayed; but
all the commotion ended in nothing. The tides were contrary, the
small boat was abandoned, and the outlook was very gloomy. The
faithful Esquimaux, Frederick, who had latterly been somewhat
unlucky as a hunter, now came to the front by killing a seal that
weighed six hundred pounds, receiving the usual drink of rum. On
this occasion Lockwood mentioned that he swallowed a cupful of the
seal’s blood, and found it somewhat tasteless. On the 5th of
September, the party after great labor came abreast of Victoria Head
and Cape Albert, and while drifting along on the floe the American
flag was hoisted over the launch, and the fire under the engine was
put out to save coal, Lockwood enjoying a little needed sleep. On
the 7th they came in sight of the coast extending from Alexander
Harbor to Cape Sabine, and the impossibility of proceeding in the
launch becoming apparent, it was decided to resort to sledge-travel,
two of the sledges to carry a boat each, and both of them to be
drawn by the men. When they were fully prepared for moving, it was
found that one of them weighed 1,700 pounds and the other 2,100
pounds. Owing to the various difficulties which soon beset the
travelers, they were obliged to abandon one of the boats, whereby it
became necessary to retrace several sections of the journey for the
purpose of bringing on the extra supplies, thus adding greatly to
the fatigue of the men. Lockwood now expressed his doubts as to
whether he would live to write out his notes, and also his fears
that the floe upon which the party then were, might take them down
into Baffin’s Bay. Not only were they at the mercy of the floe, but
the currents were contrary, sludge-ice abundant, and their supply of
food reduced to seal-blubber, bread, and tea. At one time, strange
to say, their position in the straits was directly north of
Littleton Island, and nearer the Greenland coast than that of
Grinnell Land. It now seemed to Lockwood that there was nothing
ahead of them but starvation and death, and yet the men kept up
their spirits in a manner that greatly surprised him. One of the
floes upon which they had drifted for many days, when found to be
cracking in one or two places, caused the party to move upon another
nearer the shore, and in a short time the floe previously occupied
was entirely broken up. On the 29th of September, the floe on which
they were floating, finally touched another toward the west, and
that another connected with the shore, by which means they were
enabled to reach the land, very thankful to be in a place of
security once more. The locality was really a rock forming a
promontory between two glaciers, and thought to be about thirteen
miles directly south of Cape Sabine. To that place a reconnoitring
party was at once sent, but the cape could not be reached on account
of open water near it, and the party was compelled to return. In the
mean time, arrangements were made for building out of stones and ice
the necessary huts for protection during the coming winter, should
it be their fate to remain there. While this work was progressing,
it was decided that the daily rations would have to be reduced.
Lockwood expressed the opinion that they had only three chances for
their lives: first, the chance of finding an American _cache_ at
Cape Sabine; secondly, a chance of crossing the straits, here
thirty-five miles wide, when their provisions were gone; thirdly,
the chance of being able to kill enough game for their support
during the winter. A second effort was made by Rice and a party to
reach Cape Sabine, which was successful. They not only brought news
about the wreck of the Proteus, but also a copy of the Army Register
for 1883, in which appeared Lockwood’s name as a first lieutenant.
Rice also succeeded in discovering the English _cache_ with two
hundred and forty rations, the _cache_ left by the Neptune in 1882,
and the stores brought from the wreck of the Proteus in 1883, all of
which information was hailed with delight by the party. Among the
stores left by the Proteus, a newspaper slip was picked up, from
which was gathered the news that President Garfield had died; that
the Jeannette had been lost; and that serious apprehensions were
felt in the United States about the fate of the Greely Expedition.
This latter intelligence gave Lockwood great pain, seeming almost
prophetic, except in the remark “lying down under the great stars to
die!” and induced him to make this record: “This article gives me
great pain, because of the alarm and sorrow which must be felt by my
dear father and mother and sisters on my behalf. Should my ambitious
hopes be disappointed, and these lines only, meet the eyes of those
so dear, may they not in thought add to my many faults and failings
that of ingratitude or want of affection in not recording more
frequently my thoughts regarding them!”

One of the results of the trip made by Rice to Cape Sabine was the
selection of a spot, between the cape and Cocked-Hat Island, for a
home during the approaching winter. Here, officers and men alike
laboring, a new hut was built, which was forthwith occupied by the
party, all the supplies being at once brought from the camp south of
Cape Sabine. The place where they now found themselves established,
Lieutenant Greely called Camp Clay, in honor of one of the party—a
grandson of Henry Clay—who had been attached to the expedition until
it reached Lady Franklin Bay, whence he returned home on account of
his health. As soon as the new hut was occupied, the announcement
was made that six of the party were on the sick list; but shortly
afterward, and notwithstanding the deplorable condition of affairs,
Lockwood recorded the following in his journal: “We are all now in
comparatively high spirits, and look forward to getting back to the
United States with a great deal of certainty. We shall have to live
on half-rations or less until April, and there will be shortness of
fuel. Many hardships are obvious, but we all feel sound again.”

On the 23d of October, twelve of the party went from Camp Clay upon
a visit to Cape Sabine, and, while some of them opened the English
_cache_ at the south side of Payer Harbor, Lockwood built a cairn
there and deposited under it, among other things, the records of the
expedition, with a note in lead-pencil to the following effect:

“_October 23, 1883._—This cairn contains the original records of the
Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, the private journal of Lieutenant
Lockwood, and a set of photographic negatives. The party is
permanently encamped at a point midway between Cape Sabine and
Cocked-Hat Island. All well.

                          “J. B. Lockwood,
            “_First Lieutenant Twenty-third Infantry._”

On their way back to Camp Clay, Dr. Pavy met with an accident to one
of his feet, and, while most of the party went on, Lockwood and
Ellison remained behind to look after him. When night came on, they
lost their way, stumbling and floundering over the rubble-ice until
overcome by fatigue and hunger; but were revived by a limited mutton
stew on their arrival at the camp. One of the results to Lockwood of
his Samaritan conduct was an accident to one of his knees, which
gave him trouble for several days, and prevented his being as useful
as he desired in contributing to the comfort of the party. It was
about this time that Lieutenant Greely declared his intention of
reducing the rations, all assenting, so that they might last until
the 1st of March; and this fact, added to the discovery that some of
their meat was far more bony than it should have been, caused some
consternation. Cold, dampness, darkness, and hunger continued to be
their hourly and daily portion, the allowance of food being only
about one fourth of what they actually needed.




                               XVIII.
                       THE FINAL CATASTROPHE.


While the following pages will contain necessarily brief notices of
the life of the party during an entire winter, they must conclude
with the record of the great calamity which befell the band of
heroes. Shortly after they found themselves settled for a campaign
of idleness, as they expected it to be, Lockwood was again confined
to his sleeping-bag on account of an injury to his feet which had
not been properly protected; his discomforts being aggravated by the
reflection that both provisions and fuel were beginning to reach a
low-tide level. The constant hunger which was experienced by all
hands went far to make their circumstances dismal and depressing;
while the only entertainment that could be provided was the reading
aloud, by one of the men, of a story and some newspaper scraps which
Rice had picked up at Cape Sabine. A little excitement was afforded
by a lottery for the distribution of some clothing and two
mattresses which had been brought ashore from the Proteus, one of
the latter falling to the lot of Lockwood. And now came a
proposition for a sledge expedition, not to discover islands,
glaciers, fiords, and prominent capes, but to go after the abandoned
whale-boat which had floated down with the floe. This must be broken
up and used for fuel. Then followed another expedition, occupying
not less than eight days, to Cape Isabella, to obtain one hundred
pounds of preserved meat left there by the English. Feeling the want
of exercise, Lockwood occasionally took a long walk, and on one
occasion was so hungry when he returned, that he could not wait for
the regular evening meal, but fastened upon a lot of moldy potatoes
which had been abandoned, and with these filled his stomach, almost
expecting that the feast would cause his death. Some of the men went
still further, for, when a blue or a white fox was killed, even the
entrails of the animal were devoured. Food was the constant subject
of conversation with all of the party—what they would be able to
get, what they had enjoyed in former years at their distant homes,
and what they expected to enjoy after their return from the North.
Not only were their supplies getting lower day by day, but the only
warm thing they could now afford was a cup of tea, excepting on
Sunday, when they had a little rum with a bit of lemon.

On the 25th of November, the sun disappeared from view, not to be
seen again until the following February, and now the gloom of the
time and place was greatly increased. On that day Lockwood recorded
in his journal the following: “I have intended writing a letter home
recounting my experiences since leaving Fort Conger, but so far the
discomforts of this life have prevented me. It is difficult to get
the blubber-lamp for more than a few minutes during the day, and
sometimes it can not be had at all. The lamp is blown out every
evening when we are ready to retire, which is generally about eight
o’clock.”

Nor were their troubles in any way alleviated by the discovery that
one of the men had been seen, or was suspected of, visiting the
store-room to fill himself with food—especially despicable thieving.
The expedition to Cape Isabella resulted in finding the food which,
however, was abandoned in returning, as one of the men, Ellison,
became very sick, and had his hands, feet, and nose frozen. He was
brought home by a relief party in a helpless condition, Lockwood and
the other men of the party having completely worn themselves out by
exposure to the cold and hard work. As it was feared that the men
would become insane if they did not stop talking about food,
Lieutenant Greely began to deliver some lectures on the geography of
the United States and their natural productions; and this was
followed by miscellaneous discussions in regard to places for
business. Whistler, for example, praised the city of Independence,
in Kansas, as a splendid place; Long said he was going to set up a
restaurant at Ann Arbor in Michigan; Fredericks would follow suit at
Minneapolis in Minnesota; while Jewell counted upon a grocery-store
in Kansas.

After commenting upon the terrible weather, Lockwood gave expression
to the following: “These short rations make me feel the cold
dreadfully. It is a constant effort to keep one’s hands and feet
comfortable, or even comparatively so. I find my spirits first up
and then down. Sometimes, when I think of the months before us of
this life of misery and suffering, I do not see how we can possibly
pull through. At other times I feel much more hopeful; but this is a
life of inexpressible misery.”

For several days before the arrival of Thanksgiving-day, a great
feast was anticipated and on that day enjoyed, including a favorite
dish called by them “_son-of-a-gun_,” composed of bread, raisins,
milk, and a little blubber; nor did the exiles omit the reading of a
few chapters from the Bible. In the evening Lockwood entertained the
party with his experiences as a farmer at Annapolis, all being
interested, and he wound up by inviting the whole of the company to
assemble there and enjoy a dinner with him on the next
Thanksgiving-day, the said dinner to be composed in part of a roast
turkey stuffed with oysters and eaten with cranberries. In return
for this compliment, each one of the audience invited Lockwood to
partake with him of a feast after their return home, and expatiated
with great gusto on the dishes that he proposed to have served. The
promise made by Lynn was a roasted turkey; Ralston, hot hoe-cake;
Ellis, spare-rib; Long, pork-chops; Biederbick, old regiment dish
called buffers; Connell, Irish stew; <DW12>, a roasted pig; Snyder,
tenderloin-steak; Brainard, peaches and cream; Fredericks, black
cake and preserves; Saler, veal cutlets; Whistler, flapjacks and
molasses; Jewell, roasted oysters on toast; Rice, clam-chowder;
Israel, hashed liver; Gardiner, Virginia pone; Ellison, Vienna
sausage; Pavy, _pâté-de-fois-gras_; Henry, Hamburg steak;
Kislingbury, hashed turkey, chicken, and veal; Greely, Parker House
rolls, coffee, cheese, omelette, rice, and chicken curry. It was
after this jolly discussion of imaginary good things that the party
sat down to a stew of seal-blubber and nothing more. The next day
Lockwood partook of his first dish of seal-skin which he found as
hard to digest as it was difficult to swallow.

On one occasion, when nearly all were asleep, a scratching noise was
heard upon the roof, and it was ascertained that a blue fox was
trying to make an entrance. The same night the ears of the sleepers
were saluted by a loud roar, caused by the ice moving down the
straits, a sound most terrible to human nerves. At one time, after
Lockwood had expressed his gratitude for enjoying warm feet for a
whole night, he resumed the subject of food, and then penned the
following: “My mind dwells constantly on the dishes of my childhood
at home. O my dear home, and the dear ones there! Can it be possible
I shall some day see them again, and that these days of misery will
pass away? My dear father, is he still alive? My dear mother and
sisters, Harry, and my nieces and brothers-in-law, how often do I
think of them! Only three days more to the top of the hill!”
(alluding to the longest night, or winter solstice).

“As to my bread, I always eat it regretfully. If I eat it before
tea, I regret that I did not keep it; and if I wait until tea comes
and then eat it, I drink my tea rather hastily and do not get the
satisfaction out of the cold meat and bread I otherwise would. What
a miserable life, where a few crumbs of bread weigh so heavily on
one’s mind! It seems to be so with all the rest. All sorts of
expedients are tried to cheat one’s stomach, but with about the same
result. By way of securing the idea of a warm piece of meat, I
sometimes pour upon it a bit of my hot tea, but the effort proves
futile.”

On the 21st of December, the day which Lockwood had long been
anticipating with pleasure, he expressed his gratification in these
words: “The top of the hill! the most glorious day of this dreary
journey through the valley of cold and hunger has at last come, and
is now nearly gone. Thank God, the glorious sun commences to return,
and every day gets lighter and brings him nearer! It is an augury
that we shall yet pull through all right.” In view of his ultimate
fate, how unutterably touching are these hopeful words!

Before the close of that day, however, he made another record in his
journal, which forcibly illustrates their deplorable condition, as
follows:

“Had a good fox-stew this evening. By a great effort I was able to
save one ounce of my bread and about two ounces of butter, for
Christmas. I shall make a vigorous effort to abstain from eating it
before then. Put it in charge of Biederbick as an additional
safeguard.”

Among the entertainments enjoyed by the party were lectures by
Lieutenant Greely on the several States of the Union. After one of
them, on Louisiana, had been delivered, Lockwood added to it an
account of his trip from Baltimore to Texas, and that from New
Orleans to Cincinnati, all of which narrative was well received.

For several days before Christmas, all were eagerly looking forward
to the grand forthcoming dinner and talking about it, a number of
them, like Lockwood, saving up a part of their scanty daily
allowance for the occasion. Lockwood mentioned that when he proposed
to exchange the promise of a fine Christmas-dinner on their return
home for a piece of dog-biscuit delivered at once, he found no one
ready to accept his _liberal_ offer. The Christmas-dinner was
similar to that on Thanksgiving-day; various songs were sung, and,
at the close of the feast, hearty cheers were given for Lieutenant
Greely, Corporal Ellison, Rice the photographer, and the two cooks.

On Christmas-night all the party enjoyed a refreshing sleep, and the
next day there was much talk about the distant homes and friends.
Lockwood was greatly pleased to learn that his comrades had formed a
high opinion of his father from what Greely and he had occasionally
told them; and, while describing the family reunions in Washington,
he was affected to tears for the first time during his Northern
campaign, excepting when Rice had come from Esquimaux Point with the
Garlington records, when his tears were the result of gratitude.

In a region where eating had become pre-eminently the chief end of
man, it is not strange that the business of marketing should have
become popular. How it was managed may be gathered from the
following paragraph: “To-day has been a market-day, everybody
trading rations—bread for butter, meat for bread, bread for soup,
etc. A great deal of talking done, but not many solid trades made. I
traded about half of my to-morrow’s _son-of-a-gun_ for about eight
ounces of bread; then I gave Brainard one ounce and a half of butter
for two dog-biscuits, but my trading did not prove profitable.”

As for New-Year’s-day, it came and departed without any special
demonstrations: the _son-of-a-gun_ was enjoyed by all parties; many
of the ice-bound hearts were warmed by memories of home; and Greely
and Lockwood had a long talk about the condition of affairs, and the
prospects for the future.

The business of trading among the explorers being discouraged, did
not long continue, but was succeeded by some other importations from
civilization, viz., the taking of property of other people without
leave or license. A report was made to Lieutenant Greely that some
one had taken a quarter of a pound of bacon, left in the stearine by
the cook; also that a barrel of bread had been broken open and two
pounds taken away. This proved that the bears and the foxes were not
the only thieves to be found in the Arctic regions. The man
suspected of the deed was closely watched and had a narrow escape
from being properly punished.

On the 10th of January, the case of poor Corporal Ellison was again
brought up for discussion and prompt action. It had been hoped that
his frosted feet would be restored to their normal condition, but
this was not to be, for they were both amputated by Nature, and two
of his fingers besides. Strange to say, this was accomplished
without his being aware of what was taking place, so little vitality
remained in these parts. When we recall the sufferings of this man,
in connection with his surroundings and his distance from the
comforts of home, we must conclude that the stories of fiction can
not eclipse the wonders of actual life and experience. What a
combination there of cold and hunger, bodily pain and mental
anguish, darkness and perpetual storms!

As we pass over the daily records made by Lockwood in his journal at
this particular time, we find food and the dangers of starvation to
be the absorbing themes. It seems strange that, in a land of ice and
snow, there should have been any apprehensions about a sufficient
supply of drinking-water; but this was the case, and the fact came
home to the exiles when they found that their supply of tea had to
be reduced to half a cup per man. Good water was not only scarce,
but could not be obtained from the neighboring lake, their sole
dependence, without great toil in chopping away the ice. They had
the ice, of course, but there was not sufficient fuel to reduce it
to a liquid.

As they could keep warm only by remaining in their sleeping-bags,
the manner of visiting each other was simply to exchange
sleeping-bags; and thus, when Lockwood wanted to have a talk with
Greely, one of the companions of the latter would exchange bags with
the visitor.

On the 18th of January, another cloud was thrown upon the party by
the death of Cross. He died of a kind of heart-disease, induced, it
was supposed, by intemperance in drinking. For several hours before
his death he uttered low moans which seemed a kind of echo from the
grinding of the far-off ice-fields. His remains were enveloped in
coffee-sacks and an American flag, and deposited in a stony grave
near the neighboring lake, the only funeral remarks having been made
by Lieutenant Lockwood.

On the 21st, Lockwood had a talk with Greely about his own health;
said he was very weak, and had been so for two weeks, but had not
mentioned it for fear of depressing the men; he could not account
for it, and concluded by saying that if he should not be well or
better when the time came to make the contemplated passage of the
straits, he desired to be left behind with his share of the rations,
and then be sent for from Littleton Island. To this Greely replied
that he would never harbor such an idea for a single moment; that he
would never abandon a living soul.

On the 2d of February, Rice and Jans started to test the passage of
the straits, hoping to reach Littleton Island, where they expected
to find some provisions or a relief-ship. But, alas! they were
stopped by open water, and not successful, though they traveled
about fifty miles up and down the floes, and were absent four days.
Owing to the bad weather, they did not even get a glimpse of the
coast of Greenland. All were greatly disappointed, and some felt
that death from starvation was staring them in the face; and yet
they found some relief in the increased light preceding the
reappearance of the sun. Lockwood, who now became despondent and
apathetic, endeavored to peer into the future, and wondered whether
his bones were really to be left in the Arctic regions. He mourned
over the fact that he had not been as good a son and as kind a
brother as he might have been, and hoped that the dear ones at home
would remember him as he wished to be, and not as he had been. As to
the end, he hoped it would come soon, whatever it might be; and he
declared himself possessed by a feeling of indifference to hunger,
cold, and gloom, “all of them enemies of existence.” After mourning
over the approaching fate of Ellison, he recorded these touching
words: “How often I think of the dear ones at home, the Sunday
evening reunions, and all the bright and happy pictures that present
themselves! My dear, good old father! may he look with charity on my
many short-comings! My dear mother and sisters and Harry,
brothers-in-law, and nieces! I trust that they are well and happy,
and, if I do not pull through this, will learn to look on my memory
kindly!” An allusion that he now made to his companions in suffering
was to this effect: “The party presents a bold front, and is not
wanting in spirit. If our fate is the worst, I do not think we shall
disgrace the name of Americans and of soldiers.” The attempt of Rice
to cross the straits to Littleton Island was heroic in the extreme,
and his pluck was further exemplified by a proposition that he
submitted to Greely to make a second effort to cross the straits,
and that, too, unattended by any companion; but the idea was not
sanctioned.

On the 22d of February, strange to say, a raven made its appearance
in the vicinity of the Arctic camp, but was not killed, although it
might have been enjoyed at the forthcoming dinner. It must have been
a great relief to some of the party that it disappeared without
uttering its dreadful cry, “_Nevermore!_” as translated by the poet,
Poe.

On the 27th, not knowing what might happen to him, Lockwood wrote
the following in his journal: “The chronometer in my pocket is the
one used on the trip to 83° 24´ and on all my trips in this region.
My intention is to buy it, but, in case I do not get back, I would
have it purchased and kept in the family.”

When the sun first made its appearance above the horizon, as it
carried his mind away to his far-distant home, he gave expression to
this emotion: “O God! how many years of my life would I give to be
there!”

Every day, observations were made from neighboring elevations to
ascertain the condition of the straits separating them from the
Greenland coast which was distinctly visible in clear weather,
hoping without hope to see it frozen over from shore to shore; but
the lateness of the season precluded all reasonable expectation of
such a result, and the daily reports of open water were depressing
in the extreme. On the 13th of March, the announcement was made that
the supplies of coffee, chocolate, and canned vegetables were all
exhausted, and that henceforth they would have to depend almost
entirely on pemmican, bacon, bread, and tea, all of which, though
given in one-third rations only, would not last for more than a
month, thus leaving them without supplies to cross the straits in
the event of a satisfactory freeze. In view of all these
circumstances, it is impossible to imagine how they could quietly
continue their preparations for a journey to the supposed goal at
Littleton Island. Surely the hope which inspired the sufferers was
eternal and supreme in its strength and pathos. “The straits,” said
Lockwood, “are open, and I see no prospect of their freezing so that
we can get across. Of course, I hope to the contrary; for this means
death, if we can find no game here.” On a subsequent day he writes
as follows: “We look to the end with equanimity, and the spirits of
the party, in spite of the prospect of a miserable death, are
certainly wonderful. I am glad as each day comes to an end. It
brings us nearer the end of this life, whatever that end is to be.”

On the 23d of March, the last of the regular fuel was exhausted, and
the food was so nearly gone that the men actually began to collect
their seal-skin clothing and foot-gear for any emergency that might
happen. Game was not only scarce, but the men were getting almost
too weak to endure a hunt. To avoid long tramps, which were sure to
be unsuccessful, they turned their attention to shrimp-fishing, but,
as one man could only get three pounds in one day, the prospect in
this direction was not hopeful.

During the month of March and the early part of April, there was
nothing done by the able-bodied members of the party but to try to
secure some game, the only incidents occurring to interrupt the
monotony being the deaths of the Esquimaux Frederick Christiansen,
and Sergeant Lynn. The former had been complaining for a week or
more, but nobody thought him in danger, and he died unexpectedly.
Lockwood’s tribute to him was to this effect: “He was a good man,
and I felt a great affection for him. He constantly worked hard in
my service, and never spared himself on our sledge-trips. His death
makes me feel very sorrowful.” He was buried by the side of Cross,
near the lake. The death of Lynn was also unexpected. He fully
appreciated his condition, and gave some directions regarding his
last wishes. He was much liked, and highly spoken of by all. After
the burial service had been read at the house by Lieutenant Greely,
his remains were also placed by the lake-side with those of Cross
and the Esquimaux.

The drama was about to close, the curtain already falling upon the
band of heroes:

  “And their hearts, though stout and brave,
  Still, like muffled drums were beating
  Funeral marches to the grave.”

The phantom of Starvation, which had long been following them over
the ice and snow, and dallying with their hopes and fears as they
lay in their comfortless camps, had now become a terrible reality,
determined to assert all his powers. Three of his victims were
already under the snow, and were soon followed by several others,
including the one who had directed them in many of their duties and
befriended them in trouble, and whose honored name, attached to a
noted island and a famed headland in the Arctic world, will be
forever remembered with pride and affection by his countrymen.

The concluding paragraph in Lieutenant Lockwood’s journal was
written on the 7th of April, 1884, and alludes to the sickness and
death of his two comrades. In the last allusion that he makes to
himself, he speaks of his excessive weakness, and of the fact that
he could not rise from his sleeping-bag without great difficulty.
His death occurred two days afterward.

Having been permitted to examine an elaborate and interesting
journal kept by Sergeant Brainard, a few notices relating to the
closing days and the death of Lieutenant Lockwood are reproduced, as
follows:

_January 12, 1884._—Lieutenant Lockwood is very weak. He has been
saving the greater portion of his bread and meat for several days,
and talks to himself about food. He frequently looks intently at the
lamp, and requests that it be kept burning all night.

_January 20th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing weaker and weaker. He
said to me a few days ago, “Brainard, I have lost my grip,” meaning
that he had lost his last hope of life.

_January 24th._—Lieutenant Lockwood seems to be in better spirits
to-day.

_January 28th._—The doctor said to-day that if Lieutenant Lockwood
did not brace up, he would never recover.

_January 30th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is growing steadily weaker, and
talks but seldom now. I wish he would try to be more cheerful.

_February 15th._—Lieutenant Lockwood is better, but does not improve
so rapidly as I would wish.

_April 4th._—The rations of Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn have been
increased to one fourth of a dovekie each per day.

_April 5th._—I am afraid that Lieutenant Lockwood and Linn will soon
follow the faithful Esquimaux, who has just died. They can not, or
they will not, eat shrimps any more. Although they are both given an
extra allowance of dovekie, it is not sufficient to restore them.

_April 7th._—Lieutenant Lockwood and Jewell will soon follow Linn.
They are very weak and failing rapidly.

_April 8th_.—Lieutenant Lockwood fell in a faint in the alley-way,
and much difficulty was experienced in resuscitating him.

_April 9th._—Lieutenant Lockwood became unconscious at an early hour
this morning, and at 4.20 P. M. he breathed his last. His end was
painless and without a struggle. This will be a sad and unexpected
blow to his family, who evidently idolized him. To me it is also a
sorrowful event. He had been my companion during long and eventful
excursions, and my feelings toward him were akin to those of a
brother. Biederbick, who was with him at the last moment, and I
straightened his limbs and prepared his remains for burial. It is
the saddest duty I have ever been called on to perform, and I hope I
may never experience the like again. A few days prior to his death
he had spoken of writing to his family, but, owing to weakness, had
deferred the matter until too late.

_April 10th._—The last sad rites were performed over the remains of
our late comrade, and he was interred with the others on Cemetery
Ridge, Lieutenant Greely reading the Episcopal service.

To the above may be added the following remark made by Brainard in
regard to his friend Lockwood: “The lieutenant was buried in an
officer’s blouse. It affected me deeply to pass his grave, as I
thought of the leader of our little party which had carried the
Stars and Stripes beyond the English Jack; but this feeling soon
wore away, and, as I had so many other horrible things to occupy my
mind, I became somewhat indifferent.”

But wholly indifferent he could not be, even when he saw two men in
one sleeping-bag, one of them a corpse, and the other too weak to
assist in pulling the body out for burial.

Another and most touching reference made by Brainard to the
burial-place of his friend Lockwood occurs in his journal under date
of May 31, 1884, and is as follows: “In my daily journeys across
Cemetery Ridge, it was but natural at first that my reflections
should be sad and gloomy. Here lie my departed comrades, and to
their left is the vacant space where, in a few days, my own remains
will be deposited if sufficient strength remain to those who may
survive me. The brass buttons on Lieutenant Lockwood’s blouse, worn
bright by the flying gravel, protruded through the scanty covering
of earth which our depleted strength barely enabled us to place over
him. At first these dazzling buttons would awaken thoughts of those
bright days spent at Fort Conger, of the half-forgotten scene of his
death, and of the universal sorrow that was felt at his departure.
But later my own wretched circumstances served to counteract these
feelings, and I would pass and repass this place without emotion,
and almost with indifference.”

The supply of food had been almost entirely exhausted during the
first few days of April, and it was impossible to obtain any game or
rations from distant caches. An effort made by Rice to secure
certain provisions that had been abandoned on a former expedition in
order to save the life of Ellison when frozen, resulted in his own
death, breathing his last in the arms of Fredericks, his only
companion, who buried him in a lonely, ice-made grave. Nor were the
horrors of the situation lessened by the discovery that the man
Henry had been guilty of stealing their food, for which, after ample
warning, under orders from Lieutenant Greely, he was summarily shot,
according to the law of self-preservation. His remains were not
deposited in the cemetery, but by themselves in a place near by.

The total number of deaths out of the twenty-five composing the
complete party of explorers was nineteen, and, while twelve of them
were buried at Camp Clay, the remainder, like the lamented Rice,
were buried elsewhere or where they died. Jans was lost in his
kyack. During a discussion that occurred, about the final
disposition of the dead, Lieutenant Greely expressed the wish that
the remains of his men might be left undisturbed. They had died, he
said, beneath Arctic skies. Arctic desolation witnessed their
sufferings, heard their cries of anguish. They are buried in Arctic
soil. Let them lie where they fell. Lockwood told me that he wanted
to rest forever on the field of his work. Why disturb them? Why not
respect their wishes?

Before closing this chapter it seems proper that an allusion should
be made to alleged cannibalism at Camp Clay. The writer of this was
informed by Sergeant Brainard that such might have been the case,
but that not a single one of the survivors had ever known or
witnessed anything of the kind. So far as Lieutenant Lockwood was
concerned, it was positively established, by unimpeachable
testimony, that his remains were not mutilated in the least degree.
When carefully carried, with all the others, on board the ship that
was to bring them to the United States, his remains were perfect in
every respect, and of this his father has the assurance of those who
saw them.

In view of the fact that Sergeant David L. Brainard accompanied
Lieutenant Lockwood in all his explorations, it seems only proper
that a notice of his life should appear in this volume. He was born
in Norway, Herkimer County, New York, December 21, 1856, his parents
having come from Massachusetts. His father was of French extraction
and his mother of English stock. He attended a district school until
his eleventh year, when he removed with his family to Freetown,
Cortland County, New York, where he attended the State Normal
School. On the 18th of September, 1876, he enlisted at New York city
in the regular army, being assigned to Company L, Second Cavalry,
then stationed at Fort Ellis, in Montana Territory. He joined his
troops late that year after an arduous journey of five hundred miles
on horseback from Corinne, Utah. In the following spring he
participated in the Indian campaigns under General Miles, along the
Yellowstone River and its tributaries, and was wounded in the face
while in action with the Sioux, at Muddy Creek, Montana, May 7,
1877. In August of the same year, he was selected as one of four men
to act as escort to General Sherman and party in their tour through
the National Park. In October following, he was made a corporal, and
in July, 1879, was promoted to be a sergeant. He was frequently in
charge of parties in the field on detached service, and was
intrusted with important missions by his commanding officers.
Lieutenant Doane, Second Cavalry, recommended him for detail on the
Howgate Polar Expedition in May, 1880, Brainard visiting Washington
for that purpose. The enterprise having been abandoned, he was
ordered back to his regiment at Fort Assiniboin, on Milk River.
Early in the spring of 1881, Lieutenant Greely requested his detail
on the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, and, on his arrival in
Washington, appointed him first sergeant of the expedition, which
position he held during the three years of Arctic service. On the
1st of August, 1884, he was transferred, with the rank of sergeant,
to the United States Signal Corps, having always acquitted himself
with ability and honor as a man, a soldier, and an explorer.




                                XIX.
                         THE WOEFUL RETURN.


Without stopping to discuss the action of Congress or the Government
officials in regard to sending relief to the Greely Expedition, the
writer desires to mention that the names of Senator Joseph R. Hawley
and Representative E. John Ellis, because of their manly action in
Congress in behalf of the suffering explorers, are far more
deserving of places on the charts of the North than those of many
others which have thus been honored. In 1882 a vessel called the
Neptune, Captain William Sopp, was chartered at St. John’s,
Newfoundland, and with a full supply of provisions was dispatched
for Lady Franklin Bay, but failing in her mission returned to
Newfoundland _without leaving_ any of her supplies in the North, but
bringing them all back to St. John’s! In 1883 the steamer Proteus,
Captain Richard Pike, was rechartered at St. John’s, and with a full
supply of provisions sailed for Discovery Harbor, but was crushed in
the ice near Cape Sabine, her crew succeeding in landing in a safe
place a small part of her cargo, some of which was subsequently
utilized by the Greely party.

In 1884 a third rescuing expedition was organized and dispatched for
the relief of the Greely exploring party. That expedition was
composed of a squadron of three ships, the Thetis, the Bear, and the
Alert, under the command of Commander Winfield S. Schley, of the
United States Navy. They left St. John’s on the 12th of May, and,
after the usual tribulations along the western coast of Greenland,
reached the vicinity of Cape Sabine, and discovered the Greely party
at Camp Clay, on Sunday, the 22d of June, seventy-three days after
the death of Lieutenant Lockwood. The discovery was then made that,
out of the twenty-five men connected with the Greely Expedition only
seven were alive, viz., Lieutenant Greely, Brainard, Biederbick,
Fredericks, Long, Connell, and Ellison. As soon as the survivors
could be relieved and transferred to the ships, the remains of the
dead were exhumed with care and taken to the ships for
transportation to the United States, excepting the remains of
Esquimaux Frederick, which were left at Disco.

As the pictures presented by the survivors lying in their camp,
dazed with suffering and surprise and a joy they could not manifest,
and the incidents they subsequently narrated of intense suffering,
can only prove heart-rending to the reader, they will not now be
dwelt upon. The departure of the ships, with their strange list of
dead and living passengers, seemed to enhance the gloom which filled
the sky and rested upon the sea. Their condition was so deplorable,
that a delay of a very few days would have left none to tell the
tale of woe and suffering. At least two could not have lived
twenty-four hours. That this time was gained, under the stimulus of
the twenty-five thousand dollars reward, appears from an article
written by an officer of the Relief Expedition and published in the
“Century” of May, 1885, as follows:

“The reward of twenty-five thousand dollars that Congress had
offered for the first information of Greely had incited the whalers
to take risks that they otherwise would have shunned. They had
expressed a determination to strive for it, and were ever on the
alert for a chance to creep northward. The Relief Squadron was
determined, on its part, that the whalers should not secure the
first information, and were equally zealous in pushing northward. It
was this rivalry (a friendly one, for our relations with the
whaling-captains were of the pleasantest nature) that hurried us
across Melville Bay and brought us together within sight of Cape
York. It had been thought possible that Greely or an advance party
might be there.”

Mr. Ellis proposed in the last session of Congress that, as the
reward had not been spent, yet had contributed to the rescue, it
should be appropriated to building, at Washington, a monument to the
dead.

The temporary halt at Disco Harbor was saddened by the death of
Ellison, after prolonged sufferings, as if his noble spirit was
determined to join its departed comrades in their passage to the
skies from that Northern Land of Desolation.

In the official record of the Relief Expedition, Commander Schley
makes an allusion to the important part taken by Lieutenant Lockwood
in the Greely Expedition which should be repeated in this place.
After submitting certain papers which had been found in a cairn at
Breevort Island, he says: “It was a wonderful story. It told how the
expedition, during its two years at Lady Franklin Bay, had marked
out the interior of Grinnell Land, and how Lockwood had followed the
northern shore of Greenland, and had reclaimed for America the honor
of ‘the farthest north.’”

On Thursday, the 17th of July, the Relief Expedition arrived at St.
John’s, Newfoundland, where they were kindly welcomed, and the
tidings of their arrival promptly telegraphed to the anxious
multitudes in the United States. Complete arrangements were made for
the continuous voyage of the living and the dead to their several
homes.

In a dispatch which the Secretary of the Navy sent to Commander
Schley, on the day of his return, he said, “Preserve tenderly the
remains of the heroic dead,” and that order was duly obeyed. They
were placed in metallic caskets, and the squadron sailed from St.
John’s on the 26th of July, arriving at Portsmouth, New Hampshire,
on the 2d of August. As the first duty after a battle is to bury the
dead, it is to be regretted that this was not done before the
display was made at Portsmouth. It was not thus that England
received her victorious fleet from Trafalgar, bearing home the
remains of the dead hero Nelson. The mutilated remains of the dead
should first have been delivered over to the bleeding hearts that
awaited them. While so many unurned corpses remained in the ships,
the celebration was but a ghastly jubilee. Requiems should have been
chanted before pæans were sung. The only casket removed from the
ships at Portsmouth was that containing the remains of Sergeant
Jewell, who was a native of New Hampshire. The squadron now sailed
for New York, and on its arrival, the 8th of August, was received
with great enthusiasm. Here the remains of the dead were delivered
to the custody of the army commander at Governor’s Island, by whom
the final dispositions were made. The remains of Lieutenant Lockwood
were forwarded to Annapolis and placed under a military guard, in
the church of St. Anne, where the young hero had been baptized,
confirmed, and received his first communion. The funeral was of a
military character, and the attendance was very large, comprehending
all the naval, military, and civil organizations of the city.
Recalling the words of the poet Whittier, many of the mourners
present must have felt their special force, when he says:

  “I know not what the future hath
    Of marvel or surprise,
  Assured alone that life and death
    _His_ mercy underlies.”

The remains of the hero lie in the beautiful cemetery of the Naval
Academy, overlooking the place of his birth and the scenes of his
childhood. An appropriate tomb was erected over them, bearing this
inscription:

                       JAMES BOOTH LOCKWOOD,
                   LIEUTENANT UNITED STATES ARMY,
                    Born at Annapolis, Maryland,
                          October 9, 1852,
                        Died at Cape Sabine,
                           April 9, 1884.

“The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared
with the glory that shall be revealed in us.”

On the day that the rector of St. Anne’s church, Rev. William S.
Southgate, gave notice of the time of the burial, he made the
following remarks:

“One of the truths of the Bible, taught us by the Church, the most
difficult to receive and to hold practically, is that expressed in
the words of the Collect for the last week: ‘O God, whose
never-failing providence ordereth all things both in heaven and on
earth.’

“The difficulty arises from the fact that in so many cases we can
not discover either the justice or the mercy or even the expediency
of that ordering.

“And yet at times we get a glimpse of light that reveals much of the
fitness and beauty of this divine ordering of events. Here is an
example before us. There is a peculiar appropriateness in the
ordering of events that brings James Booth Lockwood here to be
buried. Born in this parish, baptized here, confirmed in St. Anne by
Bishop Whittingham, April 19, 1868, he received his first communion
at this altar on Christmas-day of the same year. The rector of the
parish, who presented him for confirmation and administered to him
the holy communion, has just been called suddenly to his rest. In
the midst of untiring labors the call found them both at the post of
duty, and both were taken away while in the performance of that
duty. But there was something peculiarly sad in the circumstances
and mode of young Lockwood’s death—circumstances due partly to the
nature of the work in which he was engaged, partly to the fault of
others. But what matters it how or when he died, if found at Death’s
call doing the duty assigned to him?

“One of the earliest of the adventurers along this coast, then as
little known to the world as the Arctic regions are now to us, when
his little ship was overwhelmed by the stormy sea, comforted the
frightened and trembling helmsman with the assuring words, ‘My
child, heaven is as near to us by sea as by land.’ And so what
matters it where we die and how we die, so long as we are reconciled
to God, and are faithfully fulfilling our calling? May God give us
grace so to live that we may never be afraid to die in any place or
in any manner!”

That the story and the fate of James B. Lockwood excited a profound
sentiment of sorrow and admiration throughout the entire country was
manifested in many ways, and a notice of some of them will form an
appropriate conclusion to this _in-memoriam_ volume. Among the first
tributes of honor and affection was the following official order
published by the colonel of his regiment, announcing his death to
the military associates of the young soldier:

                            [Order, No. 46.]
                                 Headquarters Twenty-third Infantry,
                                 Fort Wayne, Mich., _July 25, 1884_.

  Another name is added to the list of our honored dead. The
  official announcement is received from the War Department of the
  death of First-Lieutenant James B. Lockwood, at Camp Clay, near
  Cape Sabine, Smith’s Sound, Arctic regions, April 9, 1884. He was
  assigned to this regiment as second lieutenant, October 1, 1873,
  and promoted first lieutenant March 15, 1883. He served with
  distinction throughout Arizona, Nebraska, Kansas, the Indian
  Territory, and Colorado, always performing with zeal and
  thoroughness the various and complex duties that usually fall to
  the lot of the young officer. In 1881 he turned from the arduous
  duties and savage warfare of frontier life to face still greater
  hardship and danger, and finally to lay down his life in those
  frozen and inhospitable regions which have proved the sepulchre of
  so many heroes before him.

  Lieutenant Lockwood was a young officer of great promise in his
  profession; of a noble and exalted character, his fine mind tended
  constantly to the investigation of scientific truths. When the
  privations, the suffering, and the achievements of the “Lady
  Franklin Bay Expedition” are fully related, higher authority will
  doubtless pay a more fitting tribute to the worth, the fortitude,
  and the matchless courage of an officer who, in Arctic
  exploration, has carried the American flag to a point in advance
  of that of any other nation.

  His reward is an imperishable fame, which he sought with even
  greater resolution than leads the soldier to the cannon’s mouth.
  The pleasant smile and manly form of our comrade are lost to us
  forever, but his name and memory will be always green in our
  hearts.

  Officers of the regiment will wear the usual badge of mourning for
  thirty days.

  By order of Colonel Black:
                          T. G. M. Smith,
       _First Lieutenant and Adjutant Twenty-third Infantry._


When the news of Lockwood’s fate was known at Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas, arrangements were at once made, by those who had known and
loved him there, to erect a tablet to his memory in the handsome
post chapel at that place. When completed it was placed in a
conspicuous position, and bore the following inscription:

                            In Memoriam
                         JAMES B. LOCKWOOD,
              FIRST LIEUTENANT TWENTY-THIRD INFANTRY,
                          A MEMBER OF THE
                      Greely Polar Expedition,
                Died at Cape Sabine, Grinnell Land,
                           April 9, 1884.


This tablet was erected chiefly at the expense of Lockwood’s old
regiment. To one of the officers General Lockwood presented a sword
that had belonged to his son, and, in his acknowledgment, that
officer made this remark: “As a friend of your son, I shall take
pride and comfort from having in my possession the sword of a
friend, who lived so nobly and died so honorably. Should you desire
it to come back to your family when I have joined your son, I hope
you will tell me so, and I will provide accordingly.” Among those
who earnestly co-operated with this gentleman in erecting the tablet
was one who wrote to his fellow-officer as follows: “No two people,
outside of Lockwood’s own blood relations, loved him more than you
and I. And yet I do not know that I am right in calling his end
untimely. He died, as he had ever lived, in the discharge of his
duty, and I imagine, when the records of the expedition become more
known, it will be seen that his duty was well done to the end. He
was a man, and has died like one. God grant that when our time comes
it may find us, too, in the discharge of our duty!”

During Lieutenant Greely’s sojourn in Portsmouth, when on his way
home, and while yet too feeble to use the pen, he dictated the
following letter to General Lockwood:

                                Portsmouth, N. H., _August 9, 1884_.

  My dear General Lockwood: Had I not seen Commander Sigsbee, and
  given to him such information as he wished, and as I knew would be
  most important to you in regard to your son, I should have
  attempted an earlier letter to you. I am still unable to write to
  you by my own hand. As I told Commander Sigsbee, James died from
  water around the heart, induced by insufficient nutrition. His
  last days were quiet and painless. He did his whole duty as a
  soldier and an officer. His loyalty to truth, fidelity, and zeal
  could always be relied upon by me. His unvarying kindness, his
  gentleness, his deep interest in and toward the men of the
  expedition indicated a nature thoroughly imbued with the essential
  and fundamental principles of Christianity, and won for him their
  good-will, confidence, and affection. I feel that you and Mrs.
  Lockwood may well be proud of such a son. His daily conversation
  during the past winter told us how much he loved his parents, and
  how deep and close were the bonds of affection which united him to
  his sisters and brother. He seemed to feel that he had not done
  full justice to the many and great advantages that you had given
  him, and hoped to make amends in the future. His innate modesty in
  this, as in other matters, I think did scant justice to his true
  merits. I write by Mrs. Greely’s hand—she joins me in sympathy and
  condolence. I feel that this letter insufficiently informs you
  regarding James. From day to day he intended to write you, but
  delayed too long. His diary, in short-hand, was kept up, I
  believe, to the day preceding his death.
                          Sincerely yours,
                                                       A. W. Greely.

Another letter from Portsmouth, written by Sergeant D. L. Brainard
in answer to some inquiries made by General Lockwood, was as
follows:

                             Portsmouth, N. H., _September 4, 1884_.

  _General_ H. H. Lockwood.

  Dear Sir: Your letter of the 22d ult., requesting information of
  the missing effects of your dear son, which had been committed to
  my care, is just received. . . . The effects in question,
  excepting the ring and coins, I turned over to Major Greely before
  leaving this city in August. The two latter articles I afterward
  found and gave to Mrs. Peck, who, with her husband, called on me
  at the Parker House, in Boston. The setting of the ring, I am
  sorry to say, was not found after his death, although diligent
  search was made. He had spoken of it but a few days before his
  death, and expressed great concern for its safety. It was supposed
  to be suspended from his neck in a small parcel, but search
  revealed nothing. The compass was among the effects I transferred
  to Lieutenant Greely, as were also two pencils, his pipe, spoon,
  knife, etc. With reference to the inner life of your son, do not
  feel any concern. Although not an open professor of any particular
  creed, he followed closely the golden rule during my acquaintance
  with him. When I reach Washington I shall be glad to call on you.
  In the mean time I shall willingly answer any question with regard
  to his life in the frigid zone that you may desire to ask. Place
  no reliance on any of the adverse newspaper reports that are
  occasionally seen reflecting on his conduct; they are not worthy
  of a moment’s thought. Hoping that the articles have reached you
  in safety ere this, I am, very sincerely yours,

                                                     D. L. Brainard.

Another and a very handsome letter sent to General Lockwood by an
officer of the army, who had long known the son, was as follows:

                                “San Antonio, Fla., _July 25, 1884_.

  “My dear General: The newspapers tardily convey to me the news of
  your son’s heroic death. I can not express to you how much both my
  wife and myself were affected by this intelligence. I knew your
  son from his entry into the Twenty-third Infantry in 1873 until I
  was promoted to the Twenty-second in 1879, and formed so high an
  estimate of his sterling soldierly character that it is
  inexpressibly sad to think of his career being cut short at so
  early an age. But, though early, he has nevertheless left his mark
  on the scientific record of the country—a record which can never
  perish while the frozen North continues to hold the secrets he has
  more nearly penetrated than any other explorer of those regions.
  This must be, my dear general, some consolation to you, though I
  well know that it can not wholly atone for the loss of your noble
  son. But, as time passes, this reflection may soften your paternal
  grief.

  “A life-work need not extend to the allotted threescore years and
  ten. In the providence of God it often compasses a much smaller
  period of time; when it is accomplished, God calls the worker
  home.

  “Who shall measure the work your son accomplished in the examples
  he gave of fidelity to duty, of heroic fortitude? How many
  fainting souls in the future, reading of his devotion, will be
  strengthened to go forward in the paths marked out for them! That
  your grief may be in time assuaged by these reflections is the
  prayer devoutly offered by your sincere friend.”

Many private letters of condolence and sympathy were written to the
parents of the deceased, by personal friends and others, some of
which serve to illustrate the character of the departed. One of
these friends wrote as follows:

“The tender regard and sincere love I had for James prompts me to
write to you and express my heart-felt sorrow in losing him. We were
dear friends for years, and a more upright and honorable man never
lived, and our regiment has lost a member who can never be replaced,
and the memory of him who died far away from us can never be
forgotten.”

In another letter a friend wrote as follows:

“Dr. B——, U. S. A., one of James’s most intimate and best friends,
desires me to say that, of all the men he knew, James was to him far
dearer than any other. As for myself, I shall always hold James dear
to my heart, and hope some day, when all things pass away, to meet
him in that happy land where our loved ones are gone.”

In another letter occurs the following:

“Lockwood was among the best young officers of the regiment. Very
attentive to duty, and correct in habits, his promise of usefulness
was unusually great. I hope that the knowledge of duty well
performed, and under the most trying circumstances, may in some
degree ameliorate your great grief.”

Another friend writes:

“I but echo the feelings of all in the Twenty-third Infantry who
knew your son, in saying that your great loss is partly theirs. His
kindly and generous impulses, his sterling integrity, and his
thoroughness as an officer and a gentleman, secured and retained for
him the substantial good-will and friendship of all. And while we
may grieve at the mournful end of his career, yet this feeling is
somewhat neutralized in the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that
he died on the field of honor.”

In another letter from one who had been in the army and on the staff
of General Lockwood at Accomac, Va., occurs the following most
admirable and appropriate passage: “I do believe, dear general, that
all is well with your son. Standing where no human footstep had ever
trod before, seeing what no eye had ever before beheld, alone amid
the awful silence of that frozen deep—alone with God—there must have
been communings with the Holy One of more import to James than all
else besides. And at the last day you will again see your son in
glory, wearing the crown of those made perfect through suffering.”

Besides the many letters written by personal friends, there were
others from perfect strangers, who had either served under General
Lockwood in the army, or been especially interested in the fate of
the youthful hero.

Among the strangers who wrote letters of condolence was the Rev.
William E. Griffis, D. D., of Schenectady, N. Y., who had preached a
sermon on the conquests of peace, and in which he made the following
allusion to Lieutenant Lockwood: “The laurels that repose on the
memory of Lieutenant Lockwood are better than battle-honors or
wreaths after bloody victories.” It was his opinion that the Arctic
secret would yet be won; and that Lockwood and his brother heroes
were doing the will of God as explorers in the far North.

On the 20th of July, 1884, the Rev. Dr. John S. Lindsay, of St.
John’s Church, in Georgetown, delivered a sermon in which he alluded
to the return of the Greely Expedition, and especially to Lieutenant
Lockwood, who had been one of his parishioners. He said: “Just a few
days ago we were plunged into sorrow by the news that among the
living of the latest Arctic expedition who had been rescued was
_not_ our young townsman, the son of one of the most honored members
of this congregation; the dispatch that brought the glad
intelligence that six were saved was soon followed by the sad
announcement that he, vigorous as he was, had sunk under the rigors
of the climate, worn out by work and want. Has he left no lesson for
you and me, for all his fellow-men? Think of his ceaseless endeavor,
of the courage and devotion with which he bore the brunt of the
exploration, and wore away his own strength in seeking food for his
comrades and himself! See him, with a single companion, penetrating
nearer to the north pole than any other man had ever gone, however
daring! When he had done his whole duty, more than had ever been
done before, he lies down to rest—to die.

[Illustration: THE GREELY EXPEDITION.
MAP SHOWING THE EXPLORATIONS BY
LIEUT. J.B. LOCKWOOD, INFTY. A. S. O.
1882-1883]

“Most fittingly did his brother explorers give his name to this
spot, the farthest land north trod by human foot. Lockwood Island
shall stand, as long as the earth endures, amid the awful wastes and
silence of these mysterious regions, as the monument of this brave
young soldier. A child of the Church, the subject of ceaseless
prayer—of yours, of mine, of his family—we trust that his spirit,
chastened and exalted by the hardships he endured, winged its flight
from the inhospitable land that refused sustenance to his body, and
now rests and waits in the paradise of God. We mingle our tears with
his father’s and his mother’s, and with those of all who loved him;
but out of the deep we rejoice in the record he has left behind of
devotion to duty even unto death. Surely no life is short in which
so much is done, or in vain that gives such instruction and such
inspiration to other lives. In conclusion, let us not cast away our
faith in God, because of the mysteries and trials and sufferings of
life.”




                             Footnotes


[1]A suburb of Annapolis.


                              THE END.




                        Transcriber’s Notes


--Retained the copyright notice from the printed edition (although
  this book is in the public domain.)

--Silently corrected a few palpable typos.

--In the text versions only, delimited italicized text in
  _underscores_.

--In the table of distances travelled, abbreviated column headings
  to save space, and added a key to the abbreviations.

--Re-ordered the table of illustrations to match the order of
  illustrations in the text.







End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Farthest North, by Charles Lanman

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