Arctic exploration

Valuable as were the immediate results of Lieutenant Charles Weyprecht’s voyage in the Tegetthoff, its indirect results were greater still, for he came back from his adventurous journey full of plans for revolutionising the manner in which Arctic exploration had been conducted. Up to that time each nation or each group of individuals had gone on its own way, practically regardless of the scientific or geographic work of the others, and there had been no attempt to solve the mysteries of the Arctic regions by concerted action. In an address delivered before the German Scientific and Medical Association of Gratz in 1875, however, Weyprecht suggested that the chief of the nations engaged in Arctic research should establish a number of stations round the Pole, whereat a series of simultaneous observations should be made. As a result of this address, Bismarck appointed a commission of leading men of science to consider Weyprecht’s proposal, and this commission came to the conclusion that the work would be of the greatest value, and that the united action of several nations was essential to its success. Out of these beginnings gradually grew the International Circumpolar Conference of 1879. Its first meeting, which was held at Hamburg, was principally devoted to the discussion of business, and eleven nations promised their support. The second conference, which met at Berne in August 1880, decided definitely on the plan of action to be employed, and adopted a scheme of observations, obligatory and optional, for use at the fifteen stations which it was proposed to establish.

Of the fifteen stations ultimately established, Denmark, Germany, Russia and the United States occupied two each, while Austria-Hungary, Finland, France, Great Britain, Holland, Norway and Sweden established one each. In addition, thirty-four permanent observatories promised their co-operation, with the result that during several succeeding years important observations were being simultaneously conducted by competent men of science at forty-nine different stations, all of them either actually in or in the immediate neighbourhood of the Polar regions.

With the work of most of these expeditions we need not concern ourselves at all. It was of a purely scientific nature, and the curious may find it all set forth in the thirty-one quarto volumes of the International Polar Scientific Publications, a set which contains by far the greatest collection of scientific Arctic data extant. The only party of the fifteen which we need follow, indeed, is that which America sent out, under the command of Lieutenant A. W. Greely, to establish a station in Lady Franklin Bay, on the east coast of Grinnell Land, in the district visited by Nares in 1875.

The plan of the expedition, briefly put, was as follows: Greely, who was a lieutenant in the Signalling Department of the United States Army, was to sail on the Proteus, a sealer of 467 tons, with a party of twenty-five, in the spring of 1881. The Proteus was to make direct for Lady Franklin Bay, where he was to land the expedition and then return home. It was arranged that a vessel should visit the station with supplies in 1882 and again in 1883. In the event of her being prevented from reaching the headquarters of the party, she was to cache quantities of supplies on the east coast of Grinnell Land, and to establish a depot on Littleton Island. If no vessel succeeded in reaching Lady Franklin Bay in 1882, the ship sent out in 1883 was to remain in Smith Sound so long as the conditions permitted, and, before leaving, was to land a party with everything necessary for a winter’s stay on Littleton Island. It was hoped that thus the safety of Greely and his men would be assured.

Unfortunately, it seems that the cabinet minister who was responsible for the equipment of the party was not too well disposed towards it. The funds placed at its disposal were quite inadequate, with the result that Greely was obliged to exercise the most rigid economy in purchasing his stores, while, owing to a number of vexatious and quite unnecessary delays in the delivery of papers and so forth, he had to rush through his final preparations in an inconveniently short space of time. Eventually, however, the equipment was completed on an adequate, but by no means liberal scale, and the Proteus set sail from St John’s, Newfoundland, on July 7, 1881. It was not until she reached Hall Basin, and when she was actually in sight of her destination, that she was first delayed by ice. Fortunately, however, she was equipped with steam, so that she soon charged her way through the barrier and landed the members of the expedition in Discovery Harbour, the place finally selected for their headquarters.

Here they found themselves in a delightful spot. Dryas, saxefrage, sedges, grasses and buttercups clothed the hill slopes and river banks, and there was animal life in abundance. No sooner were they ashore than the men set about building their quarters, a work which they executed with such dispatch that in a fortnight they had made themselves an exceedingly comfortable house, which they named Fort Conger. Unfortunately, even at this early stage of the proceedings, the party does not seem to have been on harmonious terms, and it appears that Greely, able officer though he was, had an unfortunate way of alienating the sympathy of his followers. The first signs of this friction appeared when, eight days after the landing, the Proteus sailed for home, and took with her one or two volunteers who had intended to take part in the work of the expedition but found it impossible to stay. When she was on the point of starting again, Lieutenant Kislingbury, one of the regular officers of the expedition, expressed himself dissatisfied with the manner in which affairs were being conducted and asked permission to return. This was granted him, but he missed the ship and was obliged to return to the station. From that time onward Greely hardly spoke to him, and though he did splendid work as a huntsman for the party and showed himself anxious to forward its interests in every possible way, he was never asked to resume his official connection with it.

The earlier days of their stay at Fort Conger were spent in making short sledge expeditions and in laying down depots of provisions at Cape Beechey and Cape Murchison. Under the direction of the astronomer Israel, too, scientific investigations were pursued with the utmost zeal, and many exceedingly valuable results were obtained. As soon as spring came round again sledging expeditions were sent out in all directions, and some members of the party had rather curious experiences. For example, Pavy, the doctor of the mission, and a small party, went off on a voyage of discovery in the direction of the winter quarters of the Alert, which they reached in safety. Eight days later, however, they were unwise enough to take refuge from a storm on an iceberg. To their horror and alarm, the gale separated their berg from the main pack and sent it sailing towards the north. They had reached lat. 82° 56´ N., and were beginning to wonder whether they would ever return again when, by good luck, their raft drifted towards the shore which they succeeded in reaching, but only with great difficulty.

While Pavy and his companions were indulging in their perilous voyage, Lieutenant J. B. Lockwood, one of the most indefatigable members of the mission, was making an extraordinary journey up the west coast of Greenland. He left Fort Conger on April 3 with orders to explore the coast near Cape Britannia and thence to press on in any direction which he thought fit. The ice was rough, the gales were violent, and the cold was intense, the thermometer sometimes sinking as low as 81° below freezing point. In spite of these difficulties, however, he pushed rapidly on, and on April 27 he reached Cape Bryant. Thence he sent back all of his men except two, Sergeant Brainard and Christiansen, and with these companions he made his way forward with renewed ardour. In the course of his journey he crossed Sherard Osborn Fiord, passed the highest point reached by Beaumont in 1876, doubled Cape May, climbed Cape Britannia, and, on May 13, reached Lockwood Island, the highest point attained by any Arctic explorer up to that time (83° 24′ N. 42° 45′ W.). Some miles to the north he saw Cape Washington, the most northern known land, but he was unable to determine whether or not there was land beyond it. Lockwood and his companions then set out on the return journey, reaching Fort Conger without misadventure on June 1.

The summer was very warm indeed. The snow melted and uncovered traces of Eskimo habitations, while some of the party actually saw butterflies and bumblebees. But of the ship which they were expecting there was not a trace. As, however, they were amply provisioned for another winter there was no cause for immediate alarm.

In the spring of 1883 Lockwood attempted to repeat his exploit of the previous year, but the conditions were against him, and he had to return without fulfilling his object. He immediately set out to assist Greely in his exploration of the interior of Grinnell Land, a work which had been begun during the previous summer. The results of their efforts showed that that country is a positive Paradise compared with most Arctic lands. It is intersected by rivers and long fertile valleys in which browsed herds of musk-oxen, while an enormous glacial lake, some five hundred square miles in area and fed by glaciers, which they named Lake Hazen, was one of its most remarkable features.

August brought with it no sign of the expected ship, and Greely now saw that he must set about his homeward journey in his boats without delay. Accordingly, on August 9, he and his companions started away from Fort Conger in their steam launch, two boats and a dingy, taking with them every scrap of food that they could stow away into the small accommodation at their command. The voyage was difficult and dangerous, for the heavy spring tides, rising twenty-five feet and more, combined with violent gales, kept the ice pack in constant motion against the precipitous and rock-bound coast. What with the delays caused by the weather and the constant stoppages which they were obliged to make in order to pick up every cache, however small, that had been laid down during the years of their stay at Discovery Harbour, it took them sixteen days to cover the two hundred miles which lay between their starting-place and Cape Hawks. Worse, however, was to come, for off Bache Island the boats were frozen into the ice so securely that they had no choice but to abandon them, and so adverse were the conditions that nineteen days were spent in struggling to the shore which was only thirteen miles distant when they started for it.

At last, however, they succeeded in effecting a landing between Cape Sabine and Cape Isabella, but they were now really in little better case than before. They were all in good health, it is true, and they had saved their instruments and the valuable records of their doings, but they were desperately short of provisions, and the shore on which they found themselves was inhospitable in the last degree. However, there was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad business. Accordingly, some set about hunting, some started the erection of winter quarters, while others went out in search of cairns and records. It was on Cape Sabine that one of these parties found a record which told them why the Proteus had not put in an appearance at Lady Franklin Sound. While on her way thither in July 1883, the record said, she had been crushed by the ice north of the Cape, and rendered absolutely useless for further service. She had, however, left a store of provisions there, and her commander, Lieutenant E. A. Garlington, left a message there to say that he would attempt to join the U.S.S. Yantic with all possible rapidity with a view to obtaining immediate succour for the distressed party. Unfortunately for them, the Yantic, which was under orders to repair to Littleton Island, was only a fair-weather vessel, and could render them no assistance whatever.

Greely repaired immediately to Cape Sabine, and erected winter quarters on Bedford Pim Island. The cache spoken of by Garlington was there, it is true, but it was miserably inadequate, and the party found themselves face to face with the terrible necessity of passing a long Arctic winter poorly housed, inadequately clad, and with only forty days’ rations. From that time Greely’s diary is one long tale of horror. Hunger, starvation and scurvy played fearful havoc among the men, and their condition soon became deplorable. Up till the beginning of April the expedition had only lost one of its members, but the 5th of that month saw the beginning of the end, and from that day onwards deaths were terribly frequent. Lockwood, Kislingbury, Israel, the astronomer, and Dr Pavy all sickened and died within a few weeks of one another; Rice, the photographer, perished while attempting to take up a cache; Jens died while out hunting; while Henry, who acted as cook, had to be executed for stealing from the small store of provisions left to the famine-stricken men.

At last, on June 22, 1884, Greely was astonished to hear the sound of a steamer’s whistle. He was too weak to leave the hut himself, but one of the few survivors of his party brought in news of the arrival of two relief ships, the Thetis and the Bear, under the command of Captain W. S. Schley and Commander H. H. Emory. No time was lost in taking Greely and his men on board, and they were conveyed back to America forthwith, one more death taking place on the voyage.

We now come to a part of the story which is omitted from most histories of this expedition, but which ought to be given in full, terrible though it unquestionably is. We have already mentioned that the Secretary for War of that day, Mr Robert T. Lincoln, was not too well disposed towards the expedition from the start, and that he put many difficulties in its way before it left American shores. Incredible though it may seem, it was in the same spirit that the authorities approached the relief expeditions, and there can be no question whatever that most, if not all, of Greely’s men could have been saved if the original plans had been properly carried out.

As we have already seen, in the summer of 1883 the Proteus started off, accompanied by the Yantic, under Captain Wilde, with orders either to bring Greely home or to establish an ample depot of provisions on Littleton Island. The command of the Proteus was entrusted to Captain Pike, while Lieutenant Garlington, who had volunteered for the service, was placed at the head of the entire expedition. The initial mistake was made when the Yantic was allowed to sail with her boilers in a very poor state of repair, necessitating an early visit to a Greenland port. Consequently, she was unable to accompany the Proteus far north, as was originally designed. Wilde, however, was given orders to join Garlington at Littleton Island with as little delay as possible.

Near the entrance to Smith Sound the Proteus was stopped by ice. Garlington, however, while prospecting from a hill not far from Payer Harbour, saw a lead of open water through what had hitherto been solid ice, and, returning to the ship, he ordered Pike to proceed up it. Pike, who had had great experience of ice, said that he did not like the look of it and would prefer to wait a few days, as the season was still very early. Garlington, however, insisted, and Pike had, of course, no choice but to obey his orders. The result was that the Proteus was caught in the ice and sank. Before the ship went down, some 3000 rations or more were landed on the floe, but, a portion of the ice detaching itself, seven or eight hundred were allowed to drift away, together with a number of dogs, Garlington refusing to make an effort to save them. Of the 2000 rations or more taken eventually to Cape Sabine, Garlington only left 500 for Greely, loading the boats with the remainder and reserving them for his own use.

He then proceeded to Littleton Island. Here there was no lack of game, and, as he had plenty of ammunition, he could easily have formed a splendid depot of provisions for the explorers whom he must have known would be in dire straits during the winter. He knew this, and he knew that the Yantic was bound by his orders to join him at Littleton Island, yet nothing would suit him but to start off at once in his boats to meet her. Lieutenant Colwell offered to go off for this purpose in the whaler while Garlington laid in a store of provisions; the offer was rejected. Pike urged him to wait for a few days as there could be no doubt that the Yantic would cross Melville Bay in safety; the advice was rejected. Events showed that Pike was right, for the Yantic reached Littleton Island three days after Garlington and his men had left it, having, of course, missed them on the way. Wilde now had no choice but to put about and look for the crew of the Proteus, and he eventually succeeded in finding them on the coast of Greenland.

Now comes the most astonishing part of the whole story. No sooner was Garlington on board than he gave Wilde orders to sail straight for home, although the navigable season was not yet half over, and although he had left behind a message for Greely reporting the loss of the Proteus, stating that he was rejoining the Yantic, and adding that “everything in the power of man” should be done to rescue him.

The Yantic made a good passage home, and even then it would have been easy to equip and send out a special vessel to Cape Sabine, for whaling captains were all agreed that a boat leaving New York as late as September 19 could reach Cape Sabine in safety. General Hazen, the chief signalling-officer, entreated Lincoln to purchase and dispatch a vessel at once; nothing was done. Lieutenant Melville, of whom we shall have cause to say more in connection with the Jeannette expedition, offered to take a party there himself; his offer was not accepted, and shortly afterwards Lincoln expressed his conviction that it was now too late. As events proved, Melville Bay was navigable that year for forty-five days after that “too late” was uttered, and many of Greely’s companions paid for the mistake with their lives.

This story is one of the very few dark spots on the history of Arctic exploration. No one, of course, would dream of accusing either Lieutenant Garlington or the Secretary for War of wilfully sacrificing the lives of their fellow men, but it is extraordinary that, while they knew that there was the barest likelihood of Greely and his men starving to death on a barren and inhospitable shore where there was no chance of their obtaining food, they should have neglected to use their utmost effort to save them.