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A NATIVE WOMAN WASHING GOLD IN SENEGAL. From a sketch by Mungo Park made on his last expedition. |
"I am far from desponding. I have changed a large canoe into a tolerably good schooner, on board of which I shall set sail to the east with a fixed resolution to discover the termination of the Niger or perish in the attempt; and though all the Europeans who are with me should die, and though I myself were half-dead, I would still persevere; and if I could not succeed in the object of my journey, I would at least die on the Niger."
It was in this spirit that the commander of the Joliba and a crew of nine set forth to glide down a great river toward the heart of savage Africa, into the darkness of the unexplored.
The rest is silence.
CHAPTER XLIX
VANCOUVER DISCOVERS HIS ISLAND
While Mungo Park was attempting to find the course of the Niger, the English were busy opening up the great fur-trading country in North America. Although Captain Cook had taken possession of Nootka Sound, thinking it was part of the coast of New Albion, men from other nations had been there to establish with the natives a trade in furs. The Spaniards were specially vigorous in opening up communications on this bleak bit of western coast. Great Britain became alarmed, and decided to send Captain Vancouver with an English ship to enforce her rights to this valuable port.
Vancouver had already sailed with Cook on his second southern voyage; he had accompanied him on the Discovery during his last voyage. He therefore knew something of the coast of North-West America. "On the 15th of December 1790, I had the honour of receiving my commission as commander of His Majesty's sloop the Discovery, then lying at Deptford, where I joined her," says Vancouver. "Lieutenant Broughton having been selected as a proper officer to command the Chatham, he was accordingly appointed. At day dawn on Friday the 1st of April we took a long farewell of our native shores. Having no particular route to the Pacific Ocean pointed out in my instructions, I did not hesitate to prefer the passage by way of the Cape of Good Hope."
In boisterous weather Vancouver rounded the Cape, made some discoveries on the southern coast of New Holland, surveyed part of the New Zealand coast, discovered Chatham Island, and on 17th April 1792 he fell in with the coast of New Albion. It was blowing and raining hard when the coast, soon after to be part of the United States of America, was sighted by the captains and crews of the Discovery and Chatham. Amid gales of wind and torrents of rain they coasted along the rocky and precipitous shores on which the surf broke with a dull roar. It was dangerous enough work coasting along this unsurveyed coast, full of sunken rocks on which the sea broke with great violence. Soon they were at Cape Blanco (discovered by Martin D'Aguilar), and a few days later at Cape Foulweather of Cook fame, close to the so-called straits discovered by the Greek pilot John da Fuca in 1592. Suddenly, relates Vancouver, "a sail was discovered to the westward. This was a very great novelty, not having seen any vessel during the last eight months. She soon hoisted American colours, and proved to be the ship Columbia, commanded by Captain Grey, belonging to Boston. He had penetrated about fifty miles into the disputed strait. He spoke of the mouth of a river that was inaccessible owing to breakers." (This was afterwards explored by Vancouver and named the Columbia River on which Washington now stands.)
Having examined two hundred and fifteen miles of coast, Vancouver and his two ships now entered the inlet—Da Fuca Straits—now the boundary between the United States and British Columbia. All day they made their way up the strait, till night came, and Vancouver relates with pride that "we had now advanced farther up this inlet than Mr. Grey or any other person from the civilised world."
"We are on the point of examining an entirely new region," he adds, "and in the most delightfully pleasant weather." Snowy ranges of hills, stately forest trees, vast spaces, and the tracks of deer reminded the explorers of "Old England." The crews were given holiday, and great joy prevailed. Natives soon brought them fish and venison for sale, and were keen to sell their children in exchange for knives, trinkets, and copper. As they advanced through the inlet, the fresh beauty of the country appealed to the English captain: "To describe the beauties of this region will be a very grateful task to the pen of a skilful panegyrist—the serenity of the climate, the pleasing landscapes, and the abundant fertility that unassisted nature puts forth, require only to be enriched by the industry of man with villages, mansions, and cottages to render it the most lovely country that can be imagined."
A fortnight was spent among the islands of this inlet, which "I have distinguished by the name of Admiralty Inlet," and on 4th June 1792 they drank the health of the King, George III., in a double allowance of grog, and on his fifty-fourth birthday took formal possession of the country, naming the wider part of the strait the Gulf of Georgia and the mainland New Georgia. The two ships then made their way through the narrow and intricate channels separating the island of Vancouver from the mainland of British Columbia, till at last, early in August, they emerged into an open channel discovered by an Englishman four years before and named Queen Charlotte's Sound. Numerous rocky islets made navigation very difficult, and one day in foggy weather the Discovery suddenly grounded on a bed of sunken rocks. The Chatham was near at hand, and at the signal of distress lowered her boats for assistance. For some hours, says Vancouver, "immediate and inevitable destruction presented itself." She grounded at four in the p.m. Till two next morning all hands were working at throwing ballast overboard to lighten her, till, "to our inexpressible joy," the return of the tide floated her once more. Having now satisfied himself that this was an island lying close to the mainland, Vancouver made for Nootka Sound, where he arrived at the end of August.
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VANCOUVER'S SHIP, THE DISCOVERY, ON THE ROCKS IN
QUEEN CHARLOTTE'S SOUND. From a drawing in Vancouver's Voyage, 1798. |
At the entrance of the Sound he was visited by a Spanish officer with a pilot to lead them to a safe anchorage in Friendly Cove, where the Spanish ship, under one Quadra, was riding at anchor. Civilities were interchanged "with much harmony and festivity. As many officers as could be spared from the vessel, and myself dined with Señor Quadra, and were gratified with a repast we had lately been little accustomed to. A dinner of five courses, consisting of a superfluity of the best provisions, was served with great elegance; a royal salute was fired on drinking health to the sovereigns of England and Spain, and a salute of seventeen guns to the success of the service in which the Discovery and Chatham were engaged." But when the true nature of Vancouver's mission was disclosed, there was some little difficulty, for the Spaniards had fortified Nootka, built houses, laid out gardens, and evidently intended to stay. Vancouver sent Captain Broughton home to report the conduct of the Spaniards, and spent his time surveying the coast to the south. Finally all was arranged satisfactorily, and Vancouver sailed off to the Sandwich Islands. When he returned home in the autumn of 1794 he had completed the gigantic task of surveying nine thousand miles of unknown coast chiefly in open boats, with only the loss of two men in both crews—a feat that almost rivalled that of Captain Cook.
It has been said that Vancouver "may proudly take his place with Drake, Cook, Baffin, Parry, and other British navigators to whom England looks with pride and geographers with gratitude."
CHAPTER L
MACKENZIE AND HIS RIVER
Even while Vancouver was making discoveries on the western coast of North America, Alexander Mackenzie, an enthusiastic young Scotsman, was making discoveries on behalf of the North-Western Company, which was rivalling the old Hudson Bay Company in its work of expansion. His journey right across America from sea to sea is worthy of note, and it has well been said that "by opening intercourse between Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and forming regular establishments through the interior and at both extremes, as well as along the coasts and islands, the entire command of the fur trade of North America might be obtained. To this may be added the fishing in both seas and the markets of the four quarters of the globe."
Mackenzie had already explored the great river flowing through North America to the Arctic seas in 1789. He had brought back news of its great size, its width, its volume of water, only to be mistrusted, till many years later it was found that every word was true, and tributes were paid not only to his general accuracy, but to his general intelligence as an explorer.
In 1792 he started off again, and this time he discovered the immense country that lay hidden behind the Rocky Mountains, known to-day as British Columbia. He ascended the Peace River, which flows from the Rocky Mountains, and in the spring of 1793, having made his way with much difficulty across this rugged chain, he embarked on a river running to the south-west. Through wild mountainous country on either side he paddled on; the cold was still intense and the strong mountain currents nearly dashed the canoes to pieces. His Indian guides were obstinate, ignorant, and timid. Mackenzie relates some of his difficulties in graphic language: "Throughout the whole of this day the men had been in a state of extreme ill-humour, and as they did not choose to vent it openly upon me, they disputed and quarrelled among themselves. About sunset the canoe struck upon the stump of a tree, which broke a large hole in her bottom, a circumstance that gave them an opportunity to let loose their discontents without reserve. I left them as soon as we had landed and ascended an elevated bank. It now remained for us to fix on a proper place for building another canoe, as the old one was become a complete wreck. At a very early hour of the morning every man was employed in making preparations for building another canoe, and different parties went in search of wood and gum." While the boat was building, Mackenzie gave his crew a good lecture on their conduct. "I assured them it was my fixed unalterable determination to proceed in spite of every difficulty and danger."
The result was highly satisfactory. "The conversation dropped and the work went on."
In five days the canoe was ready and they were soon paddling happily onwards towards the sea, where the Indians told him he would find white men building houses. They reached the coast some three weeks later. The Salmon River, as it is called, flows through British Columbia and reaches the sea just north of Vancouver Island, which had been discovered by Vancouver the year before.
Alexander Mackenzie had been successful. Let us hear the end of his tale: "I now mixed up some vermilion in melted grease, and inscribed in large characters, on the south-east face of the rock on which we had slept last night, this brief memorial—'Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety three.'"
CHAPTER LI
PARRY DISCOVERS LANCASTER SOUND
The efforts of Arctic explorers of past years, Frobisher, Davis, Baffin, Behring, and Cook, had all been more or less frustrated by the impenetrable barrier of ice, which seemed to stretch across the Polar regions like a wall, putting an end to all further advance.
Now, early in the nineteenth century, this impenetrable bar of ice had apparently moved and broken up into detached masses and icebergs. The news of a distinct change in the Polar ice was brought home by various traders in the Greenland waters, and soon gave rise to a revival of these voyages for the discovery of the North Pole and a passage round the northern coast of America to the Pacific Ocean. For this coast was totally unknown at this time. Information was collected from casual travellers, whale-fishers, and others, with the result that England equipped two ships for a voyage of discovery to the disputed regions. These were the Isabella (385 tons) and the Alexander (252 tons), Commander Ross being appointed to one and Lieutenant Parry to the other.
Parry had served on the coast of North America, and had written a little treatise on the stars in the Northern Hemisphere. He was thinking of offering his services for African discovery when he caught sight of a paragraph in a paper about an expedition for the discovery of the North-West Passage. He wrote at once that "he was ready for hot or for cold—Africa or the Polar regions." And he was at once appointed to the latter. The object of the voyage was clearly set forth. The young explorers were to discover a passage from Davis Strait along the northern coast of America and through the Behring Strait into the Pacific Ocean. Besides this, charts and pictures were to be brought back, and a special artist was to accompany the expedition. Ross himself was an artist, and he has delightfully illustrated his own journals of the expedition. The ships were well supplied with books, and we find the journals of Mackenzie, Hearne, Vancouver, Cook, and other old travelling friends taken for reference—thirty Bibles and sixty Testaments were distributed among the crews. For making friends with the natives, we find a supply of twenty-four brass kettles, one hundred and fifty butchers' knives, three hundred and fifty yards of coloured flannel, one hundred pounds of snuff, one hundred and fifty pounds of soap, forty umbrellas, and much gin and brandy. The expedition left on 18th April 1818, and "I believe," says Ross, "there was not a man who did not indulge after the fashion of a sailor in feeling that its issue was placed in His hands whose power is most visible in the Great Deep."
Before June had set in, the two ships were ploughing their way up the west coast of Greenland in heavy snowstorms. They sailed through Davis Strait, past the island of Disco into Baffin's undefined bay. Icebergs stood high out of the water on all sides, and navigation was very dangerous. Towards the end of July a bay to which Ross gave the name of Melville Bay, after the first Lord of the Admiralty, was passed. "Very high mountains of land and ice were seen to the north side of Melville's Bay, forming an impassable barrier, the precipices next the sea being from one thousand to two thousand feet high."
The ships were sailing slowly past the desolate shores amid these high icebergs when suddenly several natives appeared on the ice. Now Ross had brought an Eskimo with him named Sacheuse.
"Come on!" cried Sacheuse to the astonished natives.
"No—no—go away!" they cried. "Go away; we can kill you!"
"What great creatures are these?" they asked, pointing to the ships. "Do they come from the sun or the moon? Do they give us light by night or by day?"
Pointing southwards, Sacheuse told them that the strangers had come from a distant country.
"That cannot be; there is nothing but ice there," was the answer.
Soon the Englishmen made friends with these people, whom they called Arctic Highlanders, giving the name of the Arctic Highlands to all the land in the north-east corner of Baffin's Bay. Passing Cape York, they followed the almost perpendicular coast, even as Baffin had done. They passed Wolstenholme Sound and Whale Sound; they saw Smith's Sound, and named the capes on either side Isabella and Alexander after their two ships. And then Ross gave up all further discovery for the time being in this direction. "Even if it be imagined that some narrow strait may exist through these mountains, it is evident that it must for ever be unnavigable," he says decidedly. "Being thus satisfied that there could be no further inducement to continue longer in this place, I shaped my course for the next opening which appeared in view to the westward." This was the Sound which was afterwards called "Jones Sound."
"We ran nine miles among very heavy ice, until noon, when, a very thick fog coming on, we were obliged to take shelter under a large iceberg." Sailing south, but some way from land, a wide opening appeared which answered exactly to the Lancaster Sound of Baffin. Lieutenant Parry and many of his officers felt sure that this was a strait communicating with the open sea to westward, and were both astonished and dismayed when Ross, declaring that he was "perfectly satisfied that there was no passage in this direction," turned back. He brought his expedition back to England after a seven months' trip. But, though he was certain enough on the subject, his officers did not agree with him entirely, and the subject of the North-West Passage was still discussed in geographical circles.
When young Lieutenant Parry, who had commanded the Alexander in Ross' expedition, was consulted, he pressed for further exploration of the far north. And two expeditions were soon fitted out, one under Parry and one under Franklin, who had already served with Flinders in Australian exploration. Parry started off first with instructions to explore Lancaster's Sound; failing to find a passage, to explore Alderman Jones Sound, failing this again, Sir Thomas Smith's Sound. If he succeeded in getting through to the Behring Strait, he was to go to Kamtchatka and on to the Sandwich Islands. "You are to understand," ran the instructions, "that the finding of a passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific is the main object of this expedition."
On board the Hecla, a ship of three hundred and seventy-five tons, with a hundred-and-eighty-ton brig, the Griper, accompanying, Parry sailed away early in May 1819. The first week in July found him crossing the Arctic Circle amid immense icebergs against which a heavy southerly swell was violently agitated, "dashing the loose ice with tremendous force, sometimes raising a white spray over them to the height of more than a hundred feet, accompanied with a loud noise exactly resembling the roar of distant thunder."
The entrance to Lancaster Sound was reached on 31st July, and, says Parry: "It is more easy to imagine than to describe the almost breathless anxiety which was now visible in every countenance, while, as the breeze increased to a fresh gale, we ran quickly up the Sound." Officers and men crowded to the masthead as the ships ran on and on till they reached Barrow's Strait, so named by them after the Secretary of the Admiralty.
"We now began to flatter ourselves that we had fairly entered the Polar Sea, and some of the most sanguine among us had even calculated the bearing and distance of Icy Cape as a matter of no very difficult accomplishment."
Sailing westward, they found a large island, which they named Melville Island after the first Lord of the Admiralty, and a bay which still bears the name of Hecla and Griper Bay. "Here," says Parry, "the ensigns and pendants were hoisted, and it created in us no ordinary feelings of pleasure to see the British flag waving, for the first time, in those regions which had hitherto been considered beyond the limits of the habitable world."
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PARRY'S SHIPS, THE HECLA AND GRIPER, IN WINTER
HARBOUR, DECEMBER 1819. From a drawing in Parry's Voyage for the North-West Passage, 1821. |
Winter was now quickly advancing, and it was with some difficulty that the ships were forced through the newly formed ice at the head of the Bay of the Hecla and Griper. Over two miles of ice, seven inches thick, had to be sawn through to make a canal for the ships. As soon as they were moored in "Winter Harbour" the men gave three loud and hearty cheers as a preparation for eight or nine months of long and dreary winter. By the end of September all was ready; plenty of grouse and deer remained as food through October, after which there were foxes and wolves. To amuse his men, Parry and his officers got up a play; Miss in her Teens was performed on 5th November, the last day of sun for ninety-six days to come. He also started a paper, The North Georgian Gazette and Winter Chronicle, which was printed in England on their return. The New Year, 1819, found the winter growing gloomier. Scurvy had made its appearance, and Parry was using every device in his power to arrest it. Amongst other things he grew mustard and cress in boxes of earth near the stove pipe of his cabin to make fresh vegetable food for the afflicted men. Though the sun was beginning to appear again, February was the coldest part of the year, and no one could be long out in the open without being frostbitten. It was not till the middle of April that a slight thaw began, and the thermometer rose to freezing point. On 1st August the ships were able to sail out of Winter Harbour and to struggle westward again. But they could not get beyond Melville Island for the ice, and after the ships had been knocked about by it, Parry decided to return to Lancaster Sound once more. Hugging the western shores of Baffin's Bay, the two ships were turned homewards, arriving in the Thames early in November 1820. "And," says Parry, "I had the happiness of seeing every officer and man on board both ships—ninety-three persons—return to their native country in as robust health as when they left it, after an absence of nearly eighteen months."
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THE SEARCH FOR A NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: THE CREWS OF
PARRY'S SHIPS, THE HECLA AND GRIPER, CUTTING THROUGH THE ICE FOR
A WINTER HARBOUR, 1819. Drawn by William Westall, A.R.A., after a sketch by Lieut. Beechey, a member of the expedition. |
Parry had done more than this. He not only showed the possibility of wintering in these icy regions in good health and good spirits, but he had certainly discovered straits communicating with the Polar sea.
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THE NORTH SHORE OF LANCASTER SOUND. From a drawing in Parry's Voyage for the North-West Passage, 1821. |
CHAPTER LII
THE FROZEN NORTH
Meanwhile Franklin and Parry started on another expedition in the same month and year. While Parry's orders were to proceed from east to west, Franklin was to go from west to east, with a chance—if remote—that they might meet. He was to go by Hudson's Bay to the mouth of the Copper Mine River and then make his way by sea eastward along the coast. Franklin had made himself a name by work done in the Spitzbergen waters; he was to succeed in the end where others had failed in finding the North-West Passage. The party selected for this work consisted of Captain Franklin, Dr. Richardson, a naval surgeon, two midshipmen, Back and Hood, one of whom was afterwards knighted, and an English sailor named John Hepburn.
Just a fortnight after Parry's start these five English explorers sailed on board a ship belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, but it was the end of August before they arrived at the headquarters of the Company. They were cordially received by the Governor, and provided with a large boat well stored with food and arms. Amid a salute of many guns and much cheering the little party, with some Canadian rowers, started off for Cumberland House, one of the forts belonging to the Hudson Bay Company. Six weeks' hard travelling by rivers and lakes, now dragging the boats round rapids, now sleeping in "buffalo-robes" on the hard ground, brought the party to the first stage of their journey. Snow was now beginning to fall, and ice was thick on the rivers, when Franklin resolved to push on to Lake Athabasca that he might have more time to prepare for the coming voyage in the summer. Leaving Richardson and Hood at the fort, he started off with Back and the faithful Hepburn on 18th January 1820, in the very heart of the Arctic winter. Friends at the fort had provided him with Indian snowshoes turned up at the toes like the prow of a boat—with dog sledges, furs, leather trousers, drivers, and food for a fortnight. The snow was very deep, and the dogs found great difficulty in dragging their heavy burdens through the snow. But the record was good. A distance of eight hundred and fifty-seven miles was accomplished in sixty-eight days, with the thermometer at fifty degrees below zero. The hardships endured are very briefly recorded: "Provisions becoming scarce; dogs without food, except a little burnt leather; night miserably cold; tea froze in the tin pots before we could drink it."
Lake Athabasca was reached on the 26th of March and preparations for the voyage were pushed forward. Four months later they were joined by Richardson and Hood. "This morning Mr. Back and I had the sincere gratification of welcoming our long-separated friends, Dr. Richardson and Mr. Hood, who arrived in perfect health with two canoes." This is the simple entry in Franklin's journal.
Everything was now ready. Spring in these northern climates was enchanting. "The trees quickly put on their leaves after the long, hard winter months, and the whole vegetable world comes forth with a luxuriance no less astonishing than agreeable." At the same time clouds of mosquitoes and stinging sand-flies made the nights horrible. On 18th July the little party in high glee set forward in canoes rowed by Canadian boatmen, hoping to reach the Copper Mine River before winter set in. But the difficulties of the way were great, provisions were scarce, the boatmen grew discontented, ice appeared early, and Franklin had to satisfy himself with wintering at a point five hundred and fifty miles from Lake Athabasca, which he called Fort Enterprise. Here there was prospect of plenty, for large herds of reindeer were grazing along the shores of the lake, and from their flesh "pemmican" was made; but the winter was long and cheerless, and Franklin soon realised that there was not enough food to last through it. So he dispatched the midshipman Back to Lake Athabasca for help. Back's journey was truly splendid, and we cannot omit his simple summary: "On the 17th of March," he says, "at an early hour we arrived at Fort Enterprise, having travelled about eighteen miles a day. I had the pleasure of meeting my friends all in good health, after an absence of nearly five months, during which time I had travelled one thousand one hundred and four miles on snow-shoes and had no other covering at night than a blanket and deer skin, with the thermometer frequently at forty degrees below zero, and sometimes two or three days without tasting food." By his courage and endurance he saved the whole party at Fort Enterprise. By June the spring was sufficiently advanced to set out for the Copper Mine River, and on July they reached the mouth after a tedious journey of three hundred and thirty-four miles.
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A WINTER VIEW OF FORT ENTERPRISE. From a drawing, by Wm. Back, in Franklin's Journey to the Polar Sea, 1823. |
The real work of exploration was now to begin, and the party embarked in two canoes to sail along the southern coast of the Polar sea, with the possibility always of meeting the Parry expedition. But the poor Canadian boatmen were terrified at the sight of the sea on which they had never yet sailed, and they were with difficulty persuaded to embark. Indeed, of the two crews, only the five Englishmen had ever been on the sea, and it has been well said that this voyage along the shores of the rock-bound coast of the Arctic sea must always take rank as one of the most daring and hazardous exploits that have ever been accomplished in the interest of geographical research. The two canoes hugged the icy coast as they made their way eastward, and Franklin named the bays, headlands, and islands for a distance of five hundred and fifty-five miles, where a point he called Cape Turnagain marks his farthest limit east. Here is George IV. Coronation Gulf studded with islands, Hood's River, Back's River, Bathurst's Inlet, named after the Secretary of State, and Parry Bay after "my friend, Captain Parry, now employed in the interesting research for a North-West Passage."
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FRANKLIN'S EXPEDITION TO THE POLAR SEA ON THE ICE. From a drawing, by Wm. Back, in Franklin's Journey to the Polar Sea, 1823. |
The short season for exploration was now over; rough weather and want of food turned them home, only half satisfied with their work. The worst part of their journey was yet to come. Perhaps never, even in the tragic history of Arctic exploration, had greater hardships been endured than Franklin and his handful of men were to endure on their homeward way. On 22nd August the party left Point Turnagain, hoping by means of their newly discovered Hood River to reach Fort Enterprise. The ground was already covered with snow, and their food was reduced to one meal a day when they left the shores of the Arctic sea for their long inland tramp. Needless to say, the journey had to be performed on foot, and the way was stony and barren. For the first few days nothing was to be found save lichen to eat, and the temperature was far below freezing-point. An uncooked cow after six days of lichen "infused spirit into our starving party," relates Franklin. But things grew no better, and as they proceeded sadly on their way, starvation stared them in the face. One day we hear of the pangs of hunger being stilled by "pieces of singed hide mixed with lichen"; another time the horns and bones of a dead deer were fried with some old shoes and the "putrid carcase of a deer that had died the previous spring was demolished by the starving men."
At last things grew so bad that Franklin and the most vigorous of his party pushed on to Fort Enterprise to get and send back food if possible to Richardson and Hood, who were now almost too weak and ill to get along at all. Bitter disappointment awaited them.
"At length," says Franklin, "we reached Fort Enterprise, and to our infinite disappointment and grief found it a perfectly desolate habitation. There were no provisions—no Indians. It would be impossible for me to describe our sensations after entering this miserable abode and discovering how we had been neglected; the whole party shed tears, not so much for our own fate as for that of our friends in the rear, whose lives depended entirely on our sending immediate relief from this place." A few old bones and skins of reindeer were collected for supper and the worn-out explorers sat round a fire made by pulling up the flooring of the rooms. It is hardly a matter of surprise to find the following entry in Franklin's journal: "When I arose the following morning my body and limbs were so swollen that I was unable to walk more than a few yards."
Before November arrived another tragedy happened. Hood was murdered by one of the party almost mad with hunger and misery. One after another now dropped down and died, and death seemed to be claiming Franklin, Richardson, Back, and Hepburn when three Indians made their appearance with some dried deer and a few tongues. It was not a moment too soon. The Indians soon got game and fish for the starving men, until they were sufficiently restored to leave Fort Enterprise and make their way to Moose Deer Island, where, with the Hudson Bay officers, they spent the winter recovering their health and strength and spirits.
When they returned to England in the summer of 1822 they had accomplished five thousand five hundred and fifty miles. They had also endured hardships unsurpassed in the history of exploration. When Parry returned to England the following summer and heard of Franklin's sufferings he cried like a child. He must have realised better than any one else what those sufferings really were, though he himself had fared better.
While Franklin had been making his way to the Copper Mine River, Parry on board the Fury, accompanied by the Hecla, started for Hudson's Strait, by which he was to penetrate to the Pacific, if possible. Owing to bad weather, the expedition did not arrive amid the icebergs till the middle of June. Towering two hundred feet high, the explorers counted fifty-four at one time before they arrived at Resolution Island at the mouth of Hudson Strait. There were already plenty of well-known landmarks in the region of Hudson's Bay, and Parry soon made his way to Southampton Island and Frozen Strait (over which an angry discussion had taken place some hundred years before). He was rewarded by discovering "a magnificent bay," to which he gave the name of the "Duke of York's Bay." The discovery, however, was one of little importance as there was no passage. The winter was fast advancing, the navigable season was nearly over, and the explorers seemed to be only at the beginning of their work. The voyage had been dangerous, harassing, unproductive.
They had advanced towards the Behring Strait; they had discovered two hundred leagues of North American coast, and they now prepared to spend the winter in these icebound regions. As usual Parry arranged both for the health and amusement of his men during the long Arctic months—even producing a "joint of English roast beef" for Christmas dinner, preserved "by rubbing the outside with salt and hanging it on deck covered with canvas." There were also Eskimos in the neighbourhood, who proved a never-ceasing source of interest.
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AN ESKIMO WATCHING A SEAL HOLE. From a drawing in Parry's Second Voyage for a North-West Passage, 1824. |
One day in April—snow had been falling all night, news spread that the Eskimos "had killed something on the ice." "If the women," says Parry, "were cheerful before, they were now absolutely frantic. A general shout of joy re-echoed through the village; they ran into each others' huts to communicate the welcome intelligence, and actually hugged one another in an ecstasy of delight. When the first burst of joy had at last subsided the women crept one by one into the apartment where the sea-horses had been conveyed. Here they obtained blubber enough to set all their lamps alight, besides a few scraps of meat for their children and themselves. Fresh cargoes were continually arriving, the principal part being brought in by the dogs and the rest by the men, who tied a thong round their waist and dragged in a portion. Every lamp was now swimming with oil, the huts exhibited a blaze of light, and never was there a scene of more joyous festivity than while the cutting up of the walruses continued." For three solid hours the Eskimos appeared to be eating walrus flesh. "Indeed, the quantity they continued to get rid of is almost beyond belief."
It was not till early in July that the ship could be moved out of their winter's dock to renew their efforts towards a passage. They were not a little helped by Eskimo charts, but old ice blocked the way, and it was the middle of August before Parry discovered the Strait he called after his two ships, "the Strait of the Fury and Hecla," between Melville Peninsula and Cockburn Island. Confident that the narrow channel led to the Polar seas, Parry pushed on till "our progress was once more opposed by a barrier of the same impenetrable and hopeless ice as before." He organised land expeditions, and reports, "The opening of the Strait into the Polar sea was now so decided that I considered the principal object of my journey accomplished."
September had come, and once more the ships were established in their winter quarters. A second month in among the ice must have been a severe trial to this little band of English explorers, but cheerfully enough they built a wall of snow twelve feet high round the Fury to keep out snowdrifts. The season was long and severe, and it was August before they could get free of ice. The prospect of a third winter in the ice could not be safely faced, and Parry resolved to get home. October found them at the Shetlands, all the bells of Lerwick being set ringing and the town illuminated with joy at the arrival of men who had been away from all civilisation for twenty-seven months. On 14th November 1823 the expedition arrived home in England.
Still the restless explorer was longing to be off again; he was still fascinated by the mysteries of the Arctic regions, but on his third voyage we need not follow him, for the results were of no great importance. The Fury was wrecked amid the ice in Prince Regent's Inlet, and the whole party had to return on board the Hecla in 1825.
CHAPTER LIII
FRANKLIN'S LAND JOURNEY TO THE NORTH
The northern shores of North America were not yet explored, and Franklin proposed another expedition to the mouth of the Mackenzie River, where the party was to divide, half of them going to the east and half to the west. Nothing daunted by his recent sufferings, Franklin accepted the supreme command, and amid the foremost volunteers for service were his old friends, Back and Richardson. The officers of the expedition left England in February 1825, and, travelling by way of New York and Canada, they reached Fort Cumberland the following June; a month later they were at Fort Chipewyan on the shores of Lake Athabasca, and soon they had made their way to the banks of the Great Bear Lake River, which flows out of that lake into the Mackenzie River, down which they were to descend to the sea. They decided to winter on the shores of the Bear Lake; but Franklin could never bear inaction, so he resolved to push on to the mouth of the Great River with a small party in order to prospect for the coming expedition.
So correct had been Mackenzie's survey of this Great River, as it was called, that Franklin, "in justice to his memory," named it the Mackenzie River after its "eminent discoverer," which name it has borne ever since. In a little English boat, with a fair wind and a swift current, Franklin accomplished three hundred and twelve miles in about sixty hours. The saltness of the water, the sight of a boundless horizon, and the appearance of porpoises and whales were encouraging signs. They had reached the Polar sea at last—the "sea in all its majesty, entirely free from ice and without any visible obstruction to its navigation."
On reaching the coast a silken Union Jack worked by Franklin's dying wife was unfurled. She had died a few days after he left England, but she had insisted on her husband's departure in the service of his country, only begging him not to unfurl her flag till he arrived at the Polar shores. As it fluttered in the breeze of these desolate shores, the little band of Englishmen cheered and drank to the health of the King.
"You can imagine," says Franklin, "with what heartfelt emotion I first saw it unfurled; but in a short time I derived great pleasure in looking at it."
It was too late to attempt navigation for this year, although the weather in August was "inconveniently warm," so on 5th September, Franklin returned to winter quarters on the Great Bear Lake. During his absence a comfortable little settlement had grown up to accommodate some fifty persons, including Canadian and Indian hunters with their wives and children. In honour of the commander it had been called Fort Franklin, and here the party of explorers settled down for the long months of winter.
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FORT FRANKLIN, ON THE GREAT BEAR LAKE, IN THE WINTER. From a drawing in Franklin's Second Expedition to the Polar Sea, 1828. |
"As the days shortened," says Franklin, "it was necessary to find employment during the long evenings for those resident at the house, and a school was established from seven to nine for their instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic, attended by most of the British party. Sunday was a day of rest, and the whole party attended Divine Service morning and evening. If on other evenings the men felt the time tedious, the hall was at their service to play any game they might choose, at which they were joined by the officers. Thus the men became more attached to us, and the hearts and feelings of the whole party were united in one common desire to make the time pass as agreeably as possible to each other, until the return of spring should enable us to resume the great object of the expedition."
April brought warmer weather, though the ground was still covered with snow, and much boat-building went on. In May swans had appeared on the lake, then came geese, then ducks, then gulls and singing birds. By June the boats were afloat, and on the 24th the whole party embarked for the Mackenzie River and were soon making their way to the mouth. Here the party divided. Franklin on board the Lion, with a crew of six, accompanied by Back on board the Reliance, started westwards, while Richardson's party was to go eastwards and survey the coast between the mouth of the Mackenzie River and the Copper Mine. On 7th July, Franklin reached the sea, and, with flags flying, the Lion and the Reliance sailed forth on the unknown seas, only to ground a mile from shore. Suddenly some three hundred canoes full of Eskimos crowded towards them. These people had never seen a white man before, but when it was explained to them that the English had come to find a channel for large ships to come and trade with them, they "raised the most deafening shout of applause." They still crowded round the little English boats, till at last, like others of their race, they began to steal things from the boats. When detected they grew furious and brandished knives, they tore the buttons off the men's coats, and for a time matters looked serious till the English showed their firearms, when the canoes paddled away and the Eskimos hid themselves.
With a fair wind the boats now sailed along the coast westward, till stopped by ice, which drove them from the shore. Dense fogs, stormy winds, and heavy rain made this Polar navigation very dangerous; but the explorers pushed on till, on 27th July, they reached the mouth of a broad river which, "being the most westerly river in the British dominions on this coast and near the line of demarcation between Great Britain and Russia, I named it the Clarence," says Franklin, "in honour of His Royal Highness the Lord High Admiral." A box containing a royal medal was deposited here, and the Union Jack was hoisted amid hearty cheers.