The present paper cannot, in any degree, present facts which are of value to science. The cruise of the Tigress was one purely of humanity and the orders which directed it were not written with the intention of executing scientific research. The remarkable story of the ice-floe party—separated from their ship, the Polaris, whether by accident or negligence, and surviving on a piece of ice scarcely a hundred feet square, a drift of 1,800 miles, will bring to the minds of all who heard it recollections of the terrors and hardships of the Arctic Sea.
The investigation which brought forth the evidence of Tyson, the hero of the ice-floe, called for a suitable vessel, properly equipped and manned, to go at once in search of the survivors of the Polaris crew, and with that object solely in view, the Tigress sailed away on her mission of rescue. So far as her success was concerned on that mission, it must be remembered that Buddington and his thirteen associates were picked up before the search expedition sailed from New York, rescued partly by their own exertions and mainly because of the open season of the present year.
All works upon Arctic research point to the necessity of being at the entrance of Melville Bay by the 15th of August. About that date, but usually not later, is the time when the Polar and Spitzbergen currents have done the major part of their work and cleared the Arctic Sea of its masses of floating ice, leaving little as a barrier to progress save the huge bergs which float down later in the season from the thousands of unexplored glaciers which line the coast of that "Land of Desolation." The season was already far advanced, too far almost to justify any hopes of success. Fears rather were entertained that the lateness of the season would necessitate remaining all winter in the ice region, with, perhaps, little chance for active operations which might crown our labors with success, had the Buddington party not already been rescued, as was duly anticipated before sailing.
Not until the 14th of July was the Tigress ready for sea, and on the evening of that day, at five o'clock, started on her mission cheered by thousands of people along the shores of the East River, and on board the floating palaces of the Sound. The details of the cruise up to the time of reaching the Greenland coast are mainly devoid of interest. The ordinary bad weather on the banks gave us the opportunity of judging of the qualities of the vessel. As a weatherly craft much dependence was placed upon her. But it was evident that under steam alone, under the most favorable circumstances, her speed would not exceed five knots per hour—a fact which caused much uneasiness for many reasons. It proved conclusively that the main dependence must be upon the sails of the vessel, which, fortunately, were new and of the best quality and workmanship. On the 3d of August we first saw the Greenland coast and its ice-covered mountains in the neighborhood of Cape Desolation, and the effect was most grand and beautiful, more particularly so because of the contrast between the land before us and that which we had just left, alive with all the beauties of vegetation. Greenland, devoid of all except the very lowest orders of vegetation, was like mountains of silver glistening in the sun's rays, while at the same time, as from a prism, were reflected all the colors of the rainbow; and this not from a single mountain, but from chain upon chain as far as the eye could reach. This was ten o'clock in the forenoon, and the sea was smooth and the breeze light; and so changeable is the weather in these latitudes, that at four o'clock in the afternoon the ship was lying to, unable to make any progress against the heavy sea which had suddenly arisen, created by a north gale which set in just before noon with hardly any warning. The presence of the Spitzbergen current was first perceived this day—quantities of sea-weed and drift-wood floating by us. Its average force, as fir north as Upernivick, may be estimated at six fathoms per hour.
On the 6th of August, at 1.20 a.m., we anchored in the harbor of Lievly, Island of Disco. We remained at Disco until 5 p.m. on the 8th, having replenished our stock of coal and receiving twenty-seven Esquimaux dogs for sledge purposes, if obliged to remain the winter north. Our next port was Upernivick, or as translated means the place of the sun—a pertinent meaning, for from its sheltered position it enjoy the reputation of being a warm, sunny place during the short Arctic summer. From the time we arrived in the vicinity of Disco Island much ice was seen in the form of bergs, the glaciers about the Wygat Channel and Disco Bay (or more properly the Gulf of Disco) being a fruitful source of these masses of ice, and a grand procession of them may be seen at any time during the season of open water, on their stately march from the Wygat to the sea. Especially was the ship harassed in her passage to Upernivick from Disco by bergs. Fortunately at this time the daylight did not entirely leave us at any time, though as yet we had not seen the midnight sun. At 10 o'clock on the morning of Sunday, the 10th of August, the ship was brought to anchor in the harbor of Upernivick. A dense snow-storm lasted the entire day, making the country look all the more dreary for its new, fresh covering. From this time forward, snow storms, storms of sleet, and a sort of frozen fog were not unfrequent. The zone of rain for the present season was left behind us when we sailed from Upernivick. Our stay here of a day and a half was occupied in replenishing, as far as possible, our stock of coal, and in the purchase of a dozen more Esquimaux dogs, to complete the necessary number for four sledges.
At 5 in the evening of the 11th got under way for Tessuissak, the most northern civilized settlement on the globe. The run to this place, 34 miles distant, was made through one of the grandest of passages, between mountains from 1,000 to 3,000 feet high, with the water of the narrow channel studded with islands and bergs, the latter drifting rapidly to join those which had preceded them towards the open waters of Baffin Bay; and when finally the narrow passage had been cleared and the broad sea was open before us, the horizon was completely obscured by icebergs, and our course lay oftentimes through a labyrinth of them, so close aboard that our boats were in danger: an occasional bump on one bow or the other would start the people to their feet, but the ship had been built for the ice, and she had our most perfect confidence.
On the 11th of August, at 11.45 p.m., we arrived, without any accident of a serious nature from contact with the ice. Jansen, the Danish Governor of Tessuissak was scon on board, a man famous in the popular books of Kane and Hayes as an Arctic traveler. He informed us that there were no tidings relative to the fate of the Polaris, or that of her crew. However, he gave us the cheering opinion that we were just in time to cross Melville Bay, and that the season would prove to be an open one, comparatively speaking. Remaining but an hour in the harbor of Tessuissak, and accepting the proffered services of Gov. Jansen to pilot us clear of the sunken rocks which border the bay on its northern side, we stood to sea, and, leaving civilization behind, headed for Melville Bay. The shores of this bay, as represented by the geographer, are indicated by a curve of the coast-line from Cape Shackleton to Cape York. But Melville Bay, to the Arctic navigator, comprehends much more. It is undoubtedly the most dreaded and dangerous locality of the Arctic Sea. The icebergs and floes which are found within it are the offspring of its shores, and if its bottom could be examined it would be found to be strewn with the timbers of scores of good ships, crushed in a moment in the merciless pack, with hardly any warning to those whose fortunes were with the ships. Since the days of 1616 when Baffin first penetrated the waters of this bay, a fleet of whale-ships has yearly run the gauntlet of this pack-ice, but oft times destruction has overtaken the whole fleet. The Governor of Upernivik told me that in one year alone, he had two hundred men thrown upon the bounty of the colony, whose ships had been crushed in this treacherous pack-ice. But whalers still go the same course year after year, and those who succeed in reaching the north water about Cape York are generally well repaid for their dangers and hardships. The whale-ships take a lead in the pack, with a good lookout aloft, and run as far as possible in this lead; when a barrier of a mile or so intercepts their progress, they endeavor to reach a lead ahead by crushing through the ice to the open water beyond. The general principles employed in the construction of an ice-crushing boat in our harbors are the ones used in the construction of the modern whale-ships of the Arctic Sea. They are supplied with great steam power, and can be handled in times of emergency to avoid dangers, when the detention of a few moments to a sailing-ship, for want of power, might cause her destruction. The whalers intend to enter the leads of the pack inshore, away from the influences of currents, early in May. But the inshore leads in August are quite different matters. When the bay ice is broken out the bergs commence to leave the glaciers, and an inshore lead would tend to positive detention, if not to destruction. It is not in the late season the pack-ice which has to be fought and overcome, but a pack of icebergs which cannot be so easily conquered, as well as the hummock-ice, or fragments of the bergs and glaciers floating out to sea, being rapidly and constantly replaced by similar pieces during the open water season. It is evident, therefore, that in the late season the inshore leads should be avoided, and the less hazardous middle passages taken to cross Melville Bay.
The Tigress was particularly fortunate in making this passage. Shortly after midnight of the 12th, the ship was headed for Cape Shackleton, and in about thirty-six hours Cape York was sighted. We had now reached the point where the Buddington party might be seen at any moment, had they survived the winter, and not already been rescued. A landing at Cape York was not effected, owing to the heavy ice which skirted its shores for some four miles. Not a smooth, unbroken plain of ice, but filled with hummocks and small bergs from fifty to one hundred feet high—the whole a homogeneous mass, almost unsurpassable; and, if at all, only by the consumption of more than a week of most valuable time. We were sufficiently near the shore to see human beings, had there been any, and to observe smoke or other signals. Our progress from this point was uninterrupted by want of sufficient light at night, for on the 12th the midnight sun was observed. Remaining a few hours in the neighborhood of Cape York, scanning the shore with powerful glasses for signs of life, we stood on to the northward, observing carefully the whole coast, examining Holsteinholm Sound, Cape Athol, and into Hartstene Bay. In this latter the ice was very thick, and had the appearance of not having been broken out at all during the present season. For miles, as far as the eye could reach, the waters of the bay were covered with an unbroken plain of ice, without an apparent crack. In the open water, we found the new ice fast making, and the ship's side was much scarred by its sharp thin edges and points.
Standing out of the bay by Saunders Island, towards the three islands known as the "Sister Bees," much heavy pack-ice was encountered, and at times it seemed as if the ship could not advance further. But to retreat was equally as hazardous. A passage must be forced; and many a rough shock did the vessel receive as, with all her force, she struck against the ice, stopped, backed, and renewing her efforts again and again, until, at last, the ice-stream had been cut through, and the open water off Blackwood Point was reached.
On the 14th, Northumberland Island was sighted, and hopes were raised that perhaps the statement of Meyers, of the Signal Corps—one of the ice-floe party—might be correct: that it was off this island the separation had taken place. It was, however, seriously doubted; for in his testimony, his geography of the country was sadly at fault, for he placed Cape Alexander to the southward of Northumberland Island. An examination of the chart in New York had convinced us that there was much reason to doubt if Northumberland Island was near the scene of the separation. However, the island was closely examined, and without the discovery of any kind of life to reward our efforts. Still northward went our vessel, towards Littleton Island, the place which all felt certain was near the locality where Tyson commenced his ice-drift. During the afternoon of this day, the wind was northerly, with a dense snow-storm; the whole atmosphere seemed filled with a driving, frozen fog, making it perfectly impossible to see scarcely the ship's length in any direction. To add to our discomfort, the bergs were so numerous about us that it was impossible to count or estimate their number. It was a trying position; every hour at this juncture was of the utmost importance to us. New ice was making rapidly; each hour of delay enhanced the chances of failure to ascertain anything of the fate of the Polaris or her crew; and our proximity to the bergs made our situation a most dangerous one. Toward evening, however, the storm abated, and shortly afterwards we sighted Capes Alexander and Ohlsen, between which is situated Hartstene Bay, and the locality where Dr. Hayes made his first winter-quarters, calling the place Port Foulke, directly to the west of which is the grand "Brother John Glacier" of Kane. Doubling Cape Ohlsen, Littleton Island and McGary's Island came in sight; and Tyson at once recognized the locality as the place of separation.
At 9 P.M. of the 14th of August the engines were stopped, in latitude 73° 30' north. It was just a month from the time of sailing from New York, and during that time we had not only reached the Greenland coast, but were 2,267 miles due north of that city. A boat was lowered, and, under the orders of Commander Greer, I left the ship to reconnoiter for signs of the missing vessel or her crew. The excitement was so intense that the boat's crew was composed of officers, who had volunteered for the long pull ahead of us. When not a hundred yards from the ship, I was hailed by the commanding officer, who informed me that he heard cheers coming from the shore; and, while waiting to hear the sounds from the boat, word came from the captain, "I see them! I see them!" and, pointing the boat in the direction which he indicated, pulled towards the mainland to the eastward of Littleton Island, distant from the ship about three miles. Threading our way through patches of open water, surrounded by floe-pieces and bergs, I saw people dressed in clothing which my glass told me was not that commonly worn by the natives; it was white, and evidently not of skins. We felt sure that at last we would be repaid for all our endeavors by finding something relating to the Polaris and her crew. A mile nearer the shore, the complexion of the people proved that they were savages, and not whites. They made the usual friendly signs of the Greenland tribes, that of raising both hands slowly above the head, and dropping them quickly again to the side; to which salutation I replied, upon which they cheered vociferously. A few minutes later brought us to the shore. We landed in a little cove, to which, the natives had preceded us, and, with extended hands, welcomed us to the shore—a custom which is far from common among them, and one which assured us that they had been among white men. Stepping ashore, we found two manila hawsers, which had every appearance of having been recently broken. Walking about a hundred yards up the rocky beach, we came to an abandoned house, which proved to be the deserted camp of the Polaris's crew. Getting, hurriedly, the main facts in relation to the ship and her people—how they had lived, how they had gone, and the whereabouts of the ship herself, and with the ship's bell and some few books, which had belonged to Captain Hall—we returned to the ship to give the news to those who were so anxiously awaiting it. Commander Greer went immediately to the camp, and, upon his return, directed me to go again on shore, and make an official and careful investigation of the place, and, if possible, to find the wreck. Landing again in the same cove, I proceeded to the work. A description of the camp may be of interest: the house was made of spars and pieces of the ship, about forty feet long, and eighteen or twenty feet wide, completely covered with sailcloth to protect it from the weather. It was built upon a level piece of rocky ground, some thirty feet above the water level, the whole extent not being of a quarter of an acre. The place had been wisely selected, for all about it were the precipitous mountain-sides, hardly a spot of which would have been tenable in the winter season; and it was evident that the ship had been moored close by, judging by the hawsers already referred to, which had been parted by some undue strain of the ship upon them. The house was a comfortable one, the entrance being effected through double doors, for the better protection of the apartment. This latter contained fifteen berths, supplied with mattresses and coverings; a wardroom extension-table; cabin and wardroom chairs; a large heater, and also the galley-stove of the ship, which was placed in the enclosure between the doers. The table-furniture, such as knives, forks, spoons, table-casters, with bottles and contents, showed that nearly all the mess-traps had been taken from the ship to the shore quarters. The floor was covered v.ith mutilated books, manuscript log-books, and broken instruments of a nautical kind, as was also the ground immediately about the house. I caused to be taken to the boat such parts of private manuscripts and journals as I could find; the log-book of the Polaris, and all the printed notes which were not too filthy and mutilated. The journals and log-book had many pages cut out, and in no case could we find any written matter relative to the death of Captain Hall, or the separation from those on the ice. The pages of those dates had been carefully removed. The ground about the house was covered with debris of all kinds pertaining to a ship. A careful survey was made of all such material, and I never witnessed the result of so much apparent wanton destruction. Whether the destruction was caused by the whites or the natives may be a question. Sufficient to say that the Esquimaux carefully avoided touching anything belonging to the camp. The provisions which they found were not to their liking, and they seemed to be somewhat superstitious relative to the effects left by the crew. The nautical instruments had evidently been smashed with intention. The small screws of a Gambey sextant had been removed, and the shade-glasses thrown in different directions, as well as the telescopes, etc. Such was also the case with Colby's fog instrument, steam-gauges, clock, anemometer, aneroid-barometer, and the patent log. The boxes of preserved potatoes were piled up in tiers, and each box had received a blow of an axe on its side.
Close to the house was erected a temporary carpenter's bench, with shavings in plenty about it; and near by was a chest containing a portion of the carpenter's tools, in a rusty and imperfect condition. Near at hand, also, a forge, which had evidently been used for the fabrication of the iron used in the construction of the boats. My next object was to discover, if possible, the existence of a cairn, in which instruments and records, too bulky to be taken in a boat on so hazardous a journey, should have been deposited. But a careful survey brought to light no such place of concealment, except in one case, of native construction, containing a large part of a walrus's body, thus secured to protect it from the voracious dogs, of which the natives had many. Several piles of stones attracted our attention, and raised hopes that perhaps a cairn might be amongst them. But they proved to be only native graves. Conversing with the Esquimaux through Tyson, whose eighteen years of Arctic experience had made him familiar with the language, I learned that the Polaris had been tied up near the place all winter; and that, a northerly gale coming on only about the 1st of August, she had parted her moorings, and drifted on to the rocks in a little cove further to the southward, where she had sunk. He further stated that the party had abandoned the ship many moons before, and that she had floated up to the time already referred to, only two weeks previous to our arrival. Buddington, with his thirteen associates, had gone about two moons since (about two months) in a couple of boats of their own construction, fitted with oars and a sail each, to go towards the sun, or the south; but to what locality none seemed to know, all being ignorant of the geography of any portion of the country. Taking the leader of the party, which numbered seven persons, in the boat, I pulled over to the inlet where it was stated the Polaris had sunk. It was a well-sheltered cove, and was free from ice, except in one place, where two heavy floe-pieces were resting, not floating; and their general appearance caused me to believe that, inasmuch as there were ten fathoms of water about the edges of the floes, they rested on the wreck:, and not on the rocks. The natives had come to this locality to get the walrus, with which the waters about Littleton Island abound. They came in the winter, with their sledges, before the ice had begun to crack and float away in the driving currents, and, securing their stock of food, would return to Pond's Bay, whence they had come, as soon as the ice should be strong enough. Aroth, the leader, was on Littleton Island hunting when the Polaris heeled over and went down, and I had no reason to doubt that his statement was correct, and that this was the locality of the wreck.
There seemed now nothing more to be done, and I turned my attention towards the Tigress. But she was shut out of view by the dense snowstorm, which was but the continuation of the one in the afternoon off Cape Isabella. The investigation at the camp had proved one thing, and that was the crew of the Polaris had gone south, and for the purpose of sighting a whaler. So, after landing the Esquimaux, we pulled for the ship. A certain journal has charged Commander Greer with inhumanity in not taking the natives aboard the Tigress. The statement is almost too absurd to meet with any notice; but, inasmuch as the letter which contained the statement purports to be written on board a national ship, I will give it a moment's attention. The statement that the natives wanted to be taken aboard ship is untrue. Supposing they had desired it, what could have been done with the so-called "dusky natives"? Upon what would they have subsisted? Cooked provisions they did not eat, and the pork left in the deserted camp was untouched. They were in their own country, and better conditioned natives were never seen during our cruise; with plenty of dogs and sledges, plenty of skin clothing, abundance of the food they sought, with two comfortable skin tents to shelter them—of this world's goods, desirable to them, they were well supplied. As well might the commander of a national ship be charged with inhumanity on the coast of France for not making his ship a public transport for all the Frenchmen who desired to go from one port to another.
About half a mile distant from the ship the snow-storm abated, and we perceived the great northern pack, not many miles away, coming down before the wind, and approaching quite rapidly. I had spent about five hours on shore. It was now about four o'clock of the morning of the 15th. The examination of the camp had been a hurried one, but still a very thorough one; for the circumstances of wind and weather demanded that no time should be lost. A few hours more might fill the bay and the straits with portions of the northern pack, which would force us to remain north the winter. We knew the people had gone south. The people must be sought, or the object of the cruise would be lost. The order was given to go southward; and the engines were started, while we looked wistfully to the north, wondering why so short a distance from the pole could have baffled all attempts, thus far, to reach it. To the satisfaction of every officer on board the Tigress I believe that question was answered.
Our journey southward to Cape York was of much the same character as the one already described bright lookouts, constant vigilance, bright, sunny nights, and generally sleepless ones too, for the excitement was intense fore and aft the ship. It fanned the imagination of the lookouts, which often brought the report of a boat, or a sail, or human being, an inspection of which proved to be a piece of ice in one of the myriad forms it assumes. On the 16th of August we arrived off Cape York, finding the condition of the ice not materially changed. At this point it was a question in the mind of the commanding officer whether to return across Melville Bay to the Danish settlements, or to go westward and follow up the whaler's course inside the pack. The recollection of Lieut. Hartstene's experience in the Release at the same season of the year in '55 caused the decision to return across the bay. Hartstene had followed down the west coast, and, finding none of Kane's party, stood for Godhaab, Disco, where he found the missing crew, and discovered that he had passed them while on their journey southward in this very bay; the presence of the heavy bergs had shut them out of sight of the Release. Our course across the bay was somewhat different from the former one, but the experience was the same, with the exception of one gale of wind which lasted for twelve hours, during which time the coal in the starboard bunker took fire from the overheated bulkhead which separated the bunkers from the boilers. It was extinguished with little damage. The crew had been much exposed, and began to feel the desire for fresh meat. Fortunately, in the passage across the bay a white bear was shot, which gave for many days fresh provision for all hands. Arrived at Tessuissak on the 19th of August, and the next day at Upernivik. Nothing had been heard of the Polaris at either place.
Up to this time the boilers had been in constant operation, and their faulty construction necessitated a thorough overhauling. Consequently we remained four days at Upernivik, and then, all being ready, we started south for Disco, to send by the first conveyance tidings of progress to date, for it was the intention of Commander Greer to go at once from Disco to the west side of Davis's Straits in search of the whale fleet, on board one of which Buddington and his party surely were. Arrived at Disco on the 25th at 2 a.m., and eight hours later left for the west coast. An easterly gale favored our progress, and on the 27th we fell in with the pack, which, floating down with the Polar currents, gets caught in the bight of land, the termination of which is Cape Walsingham; and, finding no lead by which to enter it, stood southward, skirting the ice in search of such an opening. Our progress now was slow, comparatively speaking, for the nights were very dark and the sky generally cloudy. Several .small leads were entered, and an attempt made to crush through the ice to a lead beyond; but our power was insufficient, and we did not succeed. And learning that, when the pack is closely pressed by the currents into the shore, the whalers go to Cumberland Sound to fish, it was determined to push for those waters. While attempting to go there one of the violent gales, common at this season in the Arctic, assailed us, and for three days our position was a most precarious one, and caused many apprehensions; for the ice, driven by the fierce winds and currents, often threatened to nip us. The ship was hove to, but at times it was necessary to ease the helm and to run to avoid being caught. Those nights were anxious ones, and many a hard blow did the little vessel receive from the bergs and floes. But the gale finally broke, and we found ourselves near Cape Mercy, and, heading up the gulf, brought to anchor at Niantilik on the 4th of September. Ballast was here taken on board to replace the coal which had been consumed, and of which there was scarcely a score of tons remaining, and the boilers and engines were again thoroughly overhauled. Two whalers were found at this place, but neither had any tidings of the missing crew. However, we obtained the information that in South Greenland, at a place called Ivigtut, there is generally a supply of coal, used at the Kryolith mines of that place for pumping and for hoisting the cars; and, moreover, that vessels had at times been supplied with coal from this stock. Accordingly, on the 16th of September, with the repairs to the machinery hardly finished, the Tigress sailed for Ivigtut. Favored by a westerly gale, in four days we were within twenty miles of the anchorage we were seeking, but were driven down near the Thorstein Island, just north of Cape Desolation, and were eleven days getting in. We were enabled to get all the coal we desired, and took about one hundred and seventy-five tons. Even in Ivigtut our experience was a trying one. The water of the harbor is exceedingly deep and surrounded by mountains from 1,000 to 4,400 feet high. But, notwithstanding its sheltered position, the gales are terrific. In one blast we received down the mountain-side our starboard chain parted, and the port cable only held because of a turn which it took around a huge boulder as the ship sheered when the first chain parted. There is no such thing as holding ground on the coast of Greenland. The bottom is generally smooth, and the ship is held by the weight of her anchors and chains. In the gale to which I now refer we saw a length of fifty fathoms of chain, of the size given a frigate, stretched from the quarter of a ship to shore, so taut that not a link of it was in the water.
We sailed from Ivigtut on the 4th of October, bound to the northward and westward, on the whalers' track. Since the 21st of September, not a day had passed without some indication of the lateness of the season. But the 6th of October proved its lateness satisfactorily. We encountered a gale, which developed into a hurricane, and made our position the most critical of any thus far experienced. The sea was white with ice and the driving spray, which froze as it touched our ship. The crew, from exposure and cold, were much weakened, and the officers volunteered their services to replace the worn-out men, and often aided the men in their work of pulling and hauling. It was a necessity apparent to every officer on board. During this particular gale the wind and sea were not from the same direction. Our proximity to the Greenland coast caused the wind to be deflected from the course which had raised the sea, and our decks were never free from the water, as wave after wave broke over her, and our lee boats were constantly in or under the water. Let one picture to himself the worst gale he has ever witnessed, and then add to the imaginative picture, icebergs, and floe-ice, and a lee shore like the Greenland coast, only twelve miles away, with no power to head the sea or steam away from impending dangers—such will be the picture, that cannot be drawn, of this scene.
On the 7th of October the gale moderated, and we stood northward again, searching for whalers. In this low latitude (62 degrees) the ice was fast making, and another gale would render the ship helpless, covering her rigging and sails with ice, which could never be handled with our much reduced force. Our crew had been a most hardy one; but of our twenty-one seamen and coal-heavers, it was not uncommon at this time to have one half under medical treatment. One man was paralyzed, four or live others very ill with pneumonia or bronchitis, while others were threatened with the same diseases. A consultation with the proper officers, on the 8th of October, caused Commander Greer most reluctantly to stand to the southward. But the whalers had evidently gone, the cruising season had undoubtedly closed, and another gale would hazard the safety of the ship. We kept in the whalers' track until clear of Cape Farewell, when the course was changed to St. John, which port we reached in ten days.
I have referred to the dangers of getting "nipped" in the ice between two ice-floes, driven by conflicting currents. An instance or two may serve to describe what I mean. Captain Bartlett, who commanded the Tigress when she received the Tyson party from the ice, told me that two years since he commanded a vessel in the seal trade, and was standing in towards the coast of Labrador, in search of seals. The season was a comparatively open one. Two floes were seen approaching, and all that skill and seamanship could do was done to retreat from the position in which the ship was. But it was too late; the floes touched the ship and crushed her like an egg-shell, giving the crew scarcely time to reach the ice and save themselves. They saved nothing but the clothes on their backs and a few biscuits which each man had in his pocket. The land was twelve miles distant, and was reached the next morning by walking on the ice and jumping from floe to floe. While on the beach, a vessel was seen standing in, and, to obtain her services. Captain Bartlett started to meet her, walking on the ice. He succeeded in reaching her, and was invited to breakfast with her captain. She also had been nipped during the night, but it was thought no serious damage had been done. Before that breakfast was finished the ship went down, and so suddenly that the boats were barely launched to save the crew. Four strong ships, built for the ice, went down that same night. In 1855 Captain Duchars, of the ship Princess Charlotte, was standing across Melville Bay. Everything indicated a pleasant and prosperous voyage. The north water was almost reached. A few yards more, and the ship would have passed her dangers. It was a fine morning, with light breezes blowing from the southward. The captain observed two small floes, which seemed to have a converging course, and took the deck to see the ship safely through. She was so far out of danger that the ice did not touch the ship till abreast of the mizzenmast. Its sharp points pierced her side, and in ten minutes the royal-yards disappeared beneath the surface of the water. How closely danger besets the arctic navigator, yet how insidiously, can only be understood by those who have been in that region, and have seen the operations of the treacherous ice.
To describe the myriad forms which ice, in the shape of bergs, assumes, is a task too difficult. Perhaps an idea of their immensity may be conveyed by giving the size of one measured not long since by Dr. Hayes, and undoubtedly not overestimated in size or weight. It was seen just off Tessuissak, where I have already stated that the horizon was obscured by these masses. It was wall-sided above water, and its altitude above the water was three hundred and fifteen feet, the base-line being a fraction over three-quarters of a mile long. Its cubical contents could not have been less than twenty thousand millions of feet, and in weight two thousand millions of tons. And I am not mistaken when I say that this is not an uncommon sight. This berg, as many undoubtedly, seen by the Tigress, had grounded in two thousand two hundred feet of water, and its disintegration was so slow that it had remained in its position for two years. Another fact about the ice of these bergs: it is formed under great pressure and extreme cold. And on one occasion I remember that one of the ice-masters, who had been sent alongside of a berg to obtain some ice for the water-cooler in the officers' quarters, returned to the ship, and said that with an iron ice-chisel he had been unable to make any impression upon its surface, so intensely hard was it. The formation of the bergs, as such, is a matter of daily occurrence; and although the plastic state of the glacier is not thoroughly understood, still enough is known of the ice-deposit to follow the rain-drop from its distillation to the time when it adds its crystal to the ice of ages in the mountain gorges of Greenland. The snow which covers the mountain-tops in winter, melted by the summers sun, trickles down the mountain-sides, filling the cracks and crevices of the glacier below, or runs over its surface, till stiffened by the cold of the early fall, when it becomes part and parcel of the glacier itself. This latter has a motion, caused by gravitation, and moves bodily down its inclined bed between the mountains, not being arrested in its course by inequalities of the rocky surface beneath it, or even by the chain of hills which may, perhaps, form the coast-line. It moulds itself to these, and, with the force of a mighty river, pursues its course to the sea, reaching which it runs into it and beneath its surface, maintaining always the inclination of the whole surface of the glacier, until it is pushed far beyond the coast-line of nature, and has created its own. Some suppose that the bergs break from the glaciers by the force of gravitation. This is undoubtedly true of the hummock ice, but hardly probable in relation to the berg. But rather, by the buoyancy of the ice, it tends to rise, like a plank forced at an angle under the water. And when a sufficient quantity is thus forced beneath the surface of the sea, its buoyancy overcomes the strength of the material, and it rises, breaking its connection with its origin, and tumbling and rolling, dashing the sea high into the air, finally assumes a position of equilibrium, and floats away into the element which will finally conquer it, as it does the rocks of which its bed was made, and send it back again to commence its work as snow upon the mountain-tops. This law of circulation seems to be as applicable in the ice region as in the temperate zone. In the latter the rivers which flow to the sea are analogous to the glaciers of the former. The glacier is but the river of the warmer latitudes; its current not so rapid.
Of the manners and customs of the natives of Greenland we had little opportunity to judge, as our sojourn there was very short. However, we saw enough to know that away from the Christianizing influence of the Danish settlements they are savages, and in some respects beneath the more elevated orders of the animal kingdom. They belong to tribes wandering from place to place, and their religion is more vague than that of the aborigines of our own country. Their marriages are matters of convenience. They have a plurality of wives, and, if they have a faith, its first article is to steal, under all circumstances, as much as possible without being detected; and they are most dexterous thieves. They live in huts, the site of which is generally on a hill-side to save the labor of building; in shape they are like an old-fashioned country clay oven, square in front and sloping back into the hill. The room is entered by means of a subterranean passage twelve or sixteen feet long, naturally dark, and the floor of it is covered with snarling, savage dogs and half-grown puppies. This passage is so low that it is necessary to crawl on one's hands and knees to pass through it. The room is about sixteen feet diameter, into which are huddled the members of the family, consisting of the lord of the household, with many wives and very few children, oftentimes no children at all. The race is fast dying out. The number of deaths will nearly be double the births in the same year for the northern triber. They sleep all together on skins thrown upon the earth-bottom of the hut; the skins are half cured, and emit an odor never to be forgotten, if once perceived in the stifling atmosphere of one of these huts. Their only lamp during the long winter night is a sort of saucer made from stone, in which is placed seal-oil; for a wick, moss is used. They are the filthiest of people, seeming to know nothing of the excellent use to which water might be put, and the utter filth of the huts defies description. I never experienced such a feeling of suffocation as in the first hut I visited, nor such a feeling of relief when once I had reached the open air. The natives are always blessed with good appetites, and are always ready for an excuse to have a feast. The coming of a stranger among them is a sign for feasting. On such momentous occasions the greatest delicacy is a sort of soup made of seal-oil, blood, and seal intestines. And if the unfortunate visitor can manage to swallow the potion, and, at the same time, maintain the equilibrium of his stomach, he is at once blessed with the title "In nuk si si ma vok," which means, "As good as a native." But what an ordeal to pass to obtain this honor! When the feast is one of raw meat, a general gathering is made around a part of a carcass, and each, with his razor-like knife, cuts a piece from it weighing, perhaps, two pounds. This is carried to the mouth, and the teeth planted firmly on a convenient morsel, while a well-directed blow of the knife, passing between the meat and the lips, severs the morsel from the large piece. So quickly is this done that the motion of the knife can scarcely be perceived. Children three and four years old feed themselves after this manner; their parents seemingly have no apprehension as to this blow of the knife. It is the height of gentility among them, when they wish to show especial marks of esteem to a guest, for one of the wives to proceed with the operation thus described, including the cutting, and then, instead of eating the several morsels, they transfer it by means of extremely dirty fingers from her own lips to the mouth of the thus highly-honored guest.
The question is often asked: "Can the North Pole be reached?" From what we saw in the Tigress I believe that the opinions of the officers would yield a ready answer in the affirmative. There are three things essential, which, in that region, will be more than elsewhere necessary, if the Pole is to be reached: first, and the most essential of all. Discipline; secondly. Pluck; and, thirdly. Perseverance, of course aided by judgment and good seamanship. Armed with the knowledge or the present day of the Arctic Sea, with improved architecture in the building of ships for ice-work, and with steam-power at the will of the commander, coupled with the essential qualities just mentioned, there is no doubt in my mind as to the results of a trial to reach the Pole. The expeditions which have hitherto undertaken the task have failed from want of the main quality. I do not refer to the earlier expeditions before steam placed the motive power under control, but to more recent attempts, when good ships and powerful engines have been supplied to the expeditions. Of the existence of an open Polar Sea there seems to be little doubt. Of the causes why it exists little is known. According to all notes upon Arctic research, the Tigress, at the time she had arrived off Littleton Island, had passed the greater dangers to be apprehended. But I imagine that there is no one who stood on the decks of the Tigress and faced the northern pack but felt that, had occasion demanded, we could easily have diminished the number of miles which separated us from the Pole. The middle ice is never stationary; open water always exists between the two currents. Tyson's ice drift and McClintock's drift in the Fox prove this beyond doubt. And with two vessels, one as a reserve to remain at Port Foulke, (the best port we saw in Greenland) to fall back upon in case of need, and the other properly fitted to push forward in the early season of open water, I believe the Pole could be reached, and, moreover, that it will be done, if the results to science will repay the attempt.
But as far as our own cruise is concerned, it opened a new world of thought and experience to all. It presented nature as we had never before seen her, clothed in her grandest and most sublime livery; and long after its hardships, privations, and dangers shall be forgotten, that cruise will be a source of infinite gratification and pleasure, as remembered by those who made their home for nineteen weeks on board the little Tigress.
DISCUSSION.
At the conclusion of the reading of the paper Lieutenant-Commander White stated that many points of much professional interest had not been discussed for two reasons: first, because the expedition was not fitted with instruments for executing scientific research; and, secondly, because of the limited time usually accorded, which did not admit of a complete narrative, coupled even with the meagre scientific knowledge obtained by the Tigress. But he also stated that if there were points upon which the members would like to ask questions, he was willing to answer them as far as possible.
Commander Terry then asked if the whalers ever went north of Melville Bay.
Answer. They seldom go north of Cape York, because it is their object to get only as far north as will bring them into the open water—or north water, so-called—which saves a tedious and dangerous "boring" through the middle ice to get upon the whaling grounds on the west side of Baffin's Bay. The rule is to keep the coast of Greenland on the passage up, following the "leads" or lanes of open water in the loose ice, and avoid the "middle pack ice" as much as possible. When in May, or sometimes as late as July, the body of the pack has passed to the southward, leaving the entrance about Smith's Sound comparatively free, then the course is shaped to the westward, and then southward to the neighborhood of Lancaster Sound.
Question by Commodore Rodgers:
Will yon be kind enough to tell us something relative to the action of I lie compasses you used, and what kind of compass do you consider the best for work in the high latitudes?
Answer. The variation at Northumberland Island was about 10 points, and at Camp Polaris 12 points. Little or no dependence can be placed upon the compass. The ordinary compass-card seems to lose all its sensitiveness, and remains in any position in which it may be placed. The liquid compasses were the most reliable, and in thick weather our only dependence was on the liquid binnacle compass. Whalers say that the best place for the compass in the Arctic Sea is in the storeroom. The headlands are very distinctly marked, and in thick weather the proper mode of proceeding is to anchor, by means of ice-anchors, to a substantial floe; for if the compasses were perfectly reliable, they could not point out in thick weather the dangers of the ice. I have seen the tell-tale in the cabin spin upon its pivot by the hour. The magnetic force was so slight that the motion of the propeller caused the card to revolve so rapidly that the compass points were not at all distinguishable. Except for experimental purposes ashore, compasses in the Arctic are practically of no value.
Question by Lieutenant-Commander Harrington:
How did you manage to get the ship's position?
Answer. It was obtained by the usual methods, whenever the horizon was not obscured by ice, which was often the case, or where proximity to the land would not permit.
Question by Commander McNair:
Could not an artificial horizon be used with advantage?
Answer. Yes, if used on the land or on the ice. The ships would never be sufficiently quiet to use such an arrangement on shipboard. But for the determination of latitudes or longitudes to test the correctness of the charts (which are very imperfect), the artificial horizon is always resorted to, the ice serving as well as the land tor that purpose.