“Hurrying from the hill, I called for volunteers, and quickly had a boat’s crew ready for some sport. Putting three rifles, a harpoon, and a line into one of the whale-boats, we dragged it over the ice to the open water, into which it was speedily launched.

“We had about 2 miles to pull before the margin of the pack was reached. On the cake of ice to which we first came, there were perched about two dozen animals; and these we selected for the attack. They covered the raft almost completely, lying huddled together, lounging in the sun or lazily rolling and twisting themselves about, as if to expose some fresh part of their unwieldy bodies to the warmth,—great, ugly, wallowing sea-hogs, they were evidently enjoying themselves, and were without apprehension of approaching danger. We neared them slowly, with muffled oars.

“As the distance between us and the game steadily narrowed, we began to realise that we were likely to meet with rather formidable antagonists. Their aspect was forbidding in the extreme, and our sensations were perhaps not unlike those which the young soldier experiences who hears for the first time the order to charge the enemy. We should all, very possibly, have been quite willing to retreat had we dared own it. Their tough, nearly hairless hides, which are about an inch thick, had a singularly iron-plated look about them, peculiarly suggestive of defence; while their huge tusks, which they brandished with an appearance of strength that their awkwardness did not diminish, looked like very formidable weapons of offence if applied to a boat’s planking or to the human ribs, if one should happen to find himself floundering in the sea among the thick-skinned brutes. To complete the hideousness of a facial expression which the tusks rendered formidable enough in appearance, Nature had endowed them with broad flat noses, which were covered all over with stiff whiskers, looking much like porcupine quills, and extending up to the edge of a pair of gaping nostrils. The use of these whiskers is as obscure as that of the tusks; though it is probable that the latter may be as well weapons of offence and defence as for the more useful purpose of grubbing up from the bottom of the sea the mollusks which constitute their principal food. There were two old bulls in the herd who appeared to be dividing their time between sleeping and jamming their tusks into each other’s faces, although they appeared to treat the matter with perfect indifference, as they did not seem to make any impression on each other’s thick hides. As we approached, these old fellows—neither of which could have been less than 16 feet long, nor smaller in girth than a hogshead—raised up their heads, and, after taking a leisurely survey of us, seemed to think us unworthy of further notice; and then, punching each other again in the face, fell once more asleep. This was exhibiting a degree of coolness rather alarming. If they had showed the least timidity we should have found some excitement in extra caution; but they seemed to make so light of our approach that it was not easy to keep up the bold front with which we had commenced the adventure. But we had come quite too far to think of backing out; so we pulled in and made ready for the fray.

“Beside the old bulls, the group contained several cows and a few calves of various sizes,—some evidently yearlings, others but recently born, and others half or three-quarters grown. Some were without tusks, while on others they were just sprouting; and above this they were of all sizes up to those of the big bulls, which had great curved cones of ivory, nearly 3 feet long. At length we were within a few boats’ lengths of the ice-raft, and the game had not taken alarm. They had probably never seen a boat before. Our preparations were made as we approached. The walrus will always sink when dead, unless held up by a harpoon-line; and there was therefore but two chances for us to secure our game—either to shoot the beast dead on the raft, or to get a harpoon well into him after he was wounded, and hold on to him until he was killed. As to killing the animal where he lay, that was not likely to happen, for the thick skin destroys the force of the ball before it can reach any vital part, and indeed, at a distance, actually flattens it; and the skull is so heavy that it is hard to penetrate with an ordinary bullet, unless the ball happens to strike through the eye.

“To Miller, a cool and spirited fellow, who had been after whales on the ‘nor’-west coast,’ was given the harpoon, and he took his station in the bows; while Knorr, Jensen, and myself kept our places in the stern-sheets, and held our rifles in readiness. Each selected his animal, and we fired in concert over the heads of the oarsmen. As soon as the rifles were discharged, I ordered the men to ‘give way,’ and the boat shot right among the startled animals as they rolled off pell-mell into the sea. Jensen had fired at the head of one of the bulls, and hit him in the neck; Knorr killed a young one, which was pushed off in the hasty scramble and sank; while I planted a minie-bullet somewhere in the head of the other bull and drew from him a most frightful bellow—louder, I venture to say, than ever came from wild bull of Bashan. When he rolled over into the water, which he did with a splash that sent the spray flying all over us, he almost touched the bows of the boat, and gave Miller a good opportunity to get in his harpoon, which he did in capital style.

“The alarmed herd seemed to make straight for the bottom, and the line spun out over the gunwale at a fearful pace; but having several coils in the boat, the end was not reached before the animals began to rise, and we took in the slack and got ready for what was to follow. The strain of the line whipped the boat around among some loose fragments of ice, and the line having fouled among it, we should have been in great jeopardy had not one of the sailors promptly sprung out, cleared the line, and defended the boat.

“In a few minutes the whole herd appeared at the surface, about 50 yards away from us, the harpooned animal being among them. Miller held fast to his line, and the boat was started with a rush. The coming up of the herd was the signal for a scene which baffles description. They uttered one wild concerted shriek, as if an agonised call for help; and then the air was filled with answering shrieks. The ‘huk! huk! huk!’ of the wounded bulls seemed to find an echo everywhere, as the cry was taken up and passed along from floe to floe, like the bugle-blast passed from squadron to squadron along a line of battle; and down from every piece of ice plunged the startled beasts, as quickly as the sailor drops from his hammock when the long-roll beats to quarters. With their ugly heads just above the water, and with mouths wide open, belching forth the dismal ‘huk! huk! huk!’ they came tearing toward the boat.

“In a few moments we were completely surrounded, and the numbers kept multiplying with astonishing rapidity. The water soon became alive and black with them.

“They seemed at first to be frightened and irresolute, and for a time it did not seem that they meditated mischief; but this pleasing prospect was soon dissipated, and we were forced to look well to our safety.

“That they meditated an attack there could no longer be a doubt. To escape the onslaught was impossible. We had raised a hornet’s nest about our ears in a most astonishingly short space of time, and we must do the best we could. Even the wounded animal to which we were fast turned upon us, and we became the focus of at least a thousand gaping, bellowing mouths.

“It seemed to be the purpose of the walrus to get their tusks over the gunwale of the boat, and it was evident that, in the event of one such monster hooking on to us, the boat would be torn in pieces, and we would be left floating in the sea helpless. We had good motive, therefore, to be active. Miller plied his lance from the bows, and gave many a serious wound. The men pushed back the onset with their oars, while Knorr, Jensen, and myself loaded and fired our rifles as rapidly as we could. Several times we were in great jeopardy, but the timely thrust of an oar, or the lance, or a bullet saved us. Once I thought we were surely gone. I had fired, and was hastening to load; a wicked-looking brute was making at us, and it seemed probable that he would be upon us. I stopped loading, and was preparing to cram my rifle down his throat, when Knorr, who had got ready his weapon, sent a fatal shot into his head. Again, an immense animal, the largest that I had ever seen, and with tusks apparently 3 feet long, was observed to be making his way through the herd with mouth wide open, bellowing dreadfully. I was now as before busy loading; Knorr and Jensen had just discharged their pieces, and the men were well engaged with their oars. It was a critical moment, but happily I was in time. The monster, his head high above the boat, was within 2 feet of the gunwale, when I raised my piece and fired into his mouth. The discharge killed him instantly, and he went down like a stone.

“This ended the fray. I know not why, but the whole herd seemed suddenly to take alarm, and all dove down with a tremendous splash almost at the same instant. When they came up again, still shrieking as before, they were some distance from us, their heads all now pointed seaward, making from us as fast as they could go, their cries growing more and more faint as they retreated in the distance. We must have killed at least a dozen, and mortally wounded as many more. The water was in places red with blood, and several half-dead and dying animals lay floating about us. The bull to which we were made fast pulled away with all his might after the retreating herd, but his strength soon became exhausted; and, as his speed slackened, we managed to haul in the line, and finally approached him so nearly that our rifle-balls took effect, and Miller at length gave him the coup de grâce with his lance. We then drew him to the nearest piece of ice, and I had soon a fine specimen to add to my Natural History collections. Of the others we secured only one; the rest had died and sunk before we reached them.

“I have never before regarded the walrus as a really formidable animal; but this contest convinces me that I have done their courage great injustice. They are full of fight; and had we not been very active and self-possessed, our boat would have been torn to pieces, and we either drowned or killed. A more fierce attack than that which they made upon us could hardly be imagined, and a more formidable-looking enemy than one of these huge monsters, with his immense tusks and bellowing throat, would be difficult to find. Next time I try them I will arm my boat’s crew with lances. The rifle is a poor reliance, and but for the oars, the herd would have been on top of us at any time.”

Upon the top of the hill on the north side of the harbour a cairn was constructed, and under it Hayes deposited a brief record of the voyage. On the 11th July 1861, the ice broke up in the harbour, and the schooner was once more afloat, after ten months’ imprisonment.

On the 13th July, Hayes took leave of the Esquimaux, who were sorry to see him depart.

Hayes, although doubtful as to the prospect ahead, was determined not to quit the field without making another attempt to reach the west coast and endeavour to obtain some further information that might be of service in the future. He still had a vague hope that, even with his crippled vessel, some such good prospect might open before him as would justify him in remaining. He therefore held once more for Cape Isabella, but met the pack about 10 miles from the Greenland shore. He turned back and anchored between Littleton and McGary Islands. After a few days’ delay, another attempt was made, and in two days the west coast was reached near Gale Point, about 10 miles below Cape Isabella. Hayes then took a whale-boat to the cape, but found it impassable.

His opinion of the situation was thus recorded at the time:—

“I am fully persuaded, if there still remained a lingering doubt, of the correctness of my decision to return home, and come out next year strengthened and refitted with steam. If my impulses lead me to try conclusions once more with the ice, my judgment convinces me that it would be at the risk of everything. As well use a Hudson River steamboat for a battering-ram as this schooner, with her weakened bows, to encounter the Smith Sound ice.

“I have secured the following important advantages for the future, and with these I must, perforce, rest satisfied, for the present:—

“(1) I have brought my party through without sickness, and have thus shown that the Arctic winter of itself breeds neither scurvy nor discontent.

“(2) I have shown that men may subsist themselves in Smith Sound independent of support from home.

“(3) That a self-sustaining colony may be established at Port Foulke, and be made the basis of an extended exploration.

“(4) That the exploration of this entire region is practicable from Port Foulke—having from that starting-point pushed my discoveries much beyond those of my predecessors, without any second party in the field to co-operate with me, and under the most adverse circumstances.

“(5) That, with a reasonable degree of certainty, it is shown that, with a strong vessel, Smith Sound may be navigated and the open sea reached beyond it.

“(6) I have shown that the open sea exists.”

In returning home, Hayes visited Whale Sound and explored it as far as he could, and named Inglefield Gulf.

At Upernavik news was received of trouble in the United States, but it was not till they put in to Halifax, Nova Scotia, that they learnt that civil war had broken out. This was terrible news to Hayes. He had intended to return to the Arctic regions with a ship fitted with steam-power, and to continue his explorations. The war altered everything. As soon as he reached Boston he wrote to the President, asking for immediate employment in the public service, and offering his schooner to the Government as a gun-boat.

Hayes’ book is written in delightful language, but grave doubts have been cast upon the extent of his discoveries. It was afterwards found that Lady Franklin Bay was 6 degrees farther east than Hayes placed it, and the description given by Hayes of his farthest north does not agree with what is seen in the neighbourhood of Lady Franklin Bay.

The German Expedition left Bremerhaven on 15th June 1869. There were two boats—the Germania and the Hansa. The expedition was to make the east coast of Greenland and then penetrate to the north as far as possible.

The ice was reached on 15th July. On the 20th of July the two ships were separated through a misunderstanding, and they never met again.

From the 20th of July till the end of August the Hansa struggled through the pack-ice which drifts along the coast of Greenland. According to instructions, it was to attempt to reach Sabine Island, but that was found impossible. At the end of August it became fast in the ice, and drifted south.

On the 27th September the crew of the Hansa began building a house with coal-tiles on the floe. It was 20 feet long, 14 feet broad, and 6½ feet in the gable, while the side walls were 4 feet 8 inches high. For cement, powdered snow was used, and over this water was poured, which soon froze the whole into a compact mass.

About the middle of October the Hansa was wrecked by the pressure of the ice. It sprang a leak and slowly sank, and the crew had sufficient time to save a good many necessary articles which were stacked round the house on the floe.

The ice-field slowly but steadily drifted to the south. By the 3rd of November it had passed the Liverpool coast, and had reached Scoresby’s Sound. A walrus and several bears were shot, and supplied the party with fresh meat. November and December passed, and nothing particular happened. Christmas was spent in quite an enjoyable manner, after the German fashion. On the 2nd of January 1870 a storm arose, and when it was over it was discovered that half of the floe had been destroyed. On the 11th another storm did great damage, and greatly reduced the size of the floe. A huge gap opened in the ice near to the house, and all the firewood drifted into the raging sea. The floe was now only 150 feet in diameter, but during the night the masses of ice became closely packed again. On the 14th another frightful storm was experienced: a fissure opened in the ice under the house and the roof fell in, but fortunately the inmates all escaped. Some shelter was obtained in the boats during the next five nights, until a new house half the size of the old one was built. This house had sleeping-room for only six men, so that from this time the remainder had to sleep in the boats. It was not until the 7th of May that the opportunity came to leave the floe in their boats. They had spent 200 days on the ice. On the 4th of June they succeeded in reaching the island of Illuidlek. They left the island on the 6th and made for Friedrichsthal, the nearest colony on the south-west coast of Greenland, which was reached on the 13th of June, and where they received a hearty welcome. After a few days here, they journeyed to Julianashaab, about 80 miles distant, from which they obtained a boat for Europe.

After parting with the Hansa on the 20th of July, the Germania battled with the ice in various latitudes, and after great difficulties succeeded in reaching Sabine Island on the 5th of August.

Sabine Island is one of the Pendulum Islands discovered by Clavering in 1823. The Germania finally wintered in a little bay in the south-east corner of the island, after making a trip to the north of Shannon Island.

Several short sledging expeditions were made before winter set in, but the main expedition to the north was made in the following spring. Musk-oxen were plentiful, and several bears were shot. Deserted Esquimaux huts were found, but no natives were seen by the Expedition.

The party had several serious adventures with bears. One of them is thus described:—“Theodor Klentzer climbed the Germaniaberg to view the landscape in the increasing midday light. Reaching the top, he seated himself on a rock, and sang a song in the still air. As he looked behind him, however, he saw, not many steps off, a huge bear, which with great gravity was watching the stranger. Now, to our ‘Theodor,’ who was as quiet and decided a man as he was powerful, this would, under other circumstances, have been nothing; for the bear stood wonderfully well for a shot, and could not easily be missed; but Klentzer was totally unarmed, not having even a knife. Incredible! is it not? But, as Lieutenant Payer writes, ‘the bears always come when one has forgotten all about them.’

“Thus Klentzer saw himself unarmed and alone, far from his companions, and close to the bear. Flight was the only, though a doubtful, chance of safety, and the audacious thought struck him of plunging down the steep side of the glacier; but he chose the softer side-slope, and began to hurry down the mountain. Upon looking back, after a time, he perceived the great bear trotting behind him at a little distance, like a great dog. Thus they descended the mountain for some time. If Klentzer halted, so did the bear; when he went on, the bear followed slowly; if he began to run, the bear did the same. Thus the two had gone some distance, and Klentzer thought seriously of saving himself, as the bear, finding the chase somewhat wearisome, might press close upon his heels. He therefore uttered a loud shout, but the bear, only disconcerted for a moment, seemed to get more angry and approached quicker, so that he seemed to feel the hot breath of the monster. At this dreadful moment—and it was most likely his preservation—he remembered the stories he had heard, and while running, pulled off his jacket, throwing it behind him. And see! the trick answers: the bear stops and begins to examine the jacket. Klentzer gains courage, rushes on down the mountain, sending out a shout for help, which resounds through the silent region. But soon the bear is again at his heels, and he must throw away cap and waistcoat, by which he gains a little. Now Klentzer sees help approaching—several friends hurrying over the ice. Collecting his last strength, he shouts and runs on. But help seems in vain, for the pursuer hurries too, and he is obliged to take the last thing he has, his shawl, which he throws exactly over the monster’s snout, who, more excited still by renewed shouting, throws it back again contemptuously with a toss of the head, and presses forward upon the defenceless man, who feels his cold black snout touch his hand. Klentzer now gave himself up for lost; he could do no more; but the wonderful thought struck him of fastening up the bear’s throat with the leather belt which he wore round his body. Fixedly he stared into the merciless eyes of the beast—one short moment of doubt—the bear was startled, his attention seemed drawn aside, and the next moment he was off at a gallop.”

Another bear incident had a more serious ending:—

“We were sitting (writes Lieutenant Payer) fortunately silent in the cabin, when Koldewey suddenly heard a faint cry for help. We all hurriedly tumbled up the companion-ladder to the deck, when an exclamation from Börgen, ‘A bear is carrying me off!’ struck painfully on our ears.

“It was quite dark; we could scarcely see anything, but we made directly for the quarter whence the cry proceeded, armed with poles, weapons, etc., over hummocks and drifts, when an alarm-shot, which we fired in the air, seemed to make some little impression, as the bear dropped his prey and ran forward a few paces. He turned again, however, dragging his victim over the broken shore-ice, close to a field which stretched in a southerly direction. All depended upon our coming up with him before he could reach this field, as he would carry his prey over the open plain with the speed of a horse, and thus escape. We succeeded. The bear turned upon us for a moment, and then, scared by our continuous fire, let fall his prey.

“We lifted our poor comrade up on to the ice, to bear him to his cabin—a task which was rendered somewhat difficult by the slippery and uneven surface of the ice. But after we had gone a little way, Börgen implored us to make as much haste as possible. On procuring a light, the coldest nature would have been shocked at the spectacle which poor Börgen presented. The bear had torn his scalp in several places, and he had received several injuries in other parts of his body. His clothes and hair were saturated with blood. We improvised a couch for him in the rear of our own cabin, as his own was not large enough.

“The first operation was performed upon him on the cabin table. And here we may briefly notice the singular fact that, although he had been carried more than 100 paces with his skull almost laid bare, at a temperature of −13° F., his scalp healed so perfectly that not a single portion was missing.”

Börgen’s narrative was as follows:—

“About a quarter before 9 p.m. I had gone out to observe the occupation of a star, which was to take place about that time, and also to take the meteorological readings. As I was in the act of getting on shore, Captain Koldewey came on to the ice. We spoke for a few moments, when I went on shore, while he returned to the cabin. On my return from the observatory, about 50 steps from the vessel, I heard a rustling noise to the left, and became aware of the proximity of a bear. There was no time to think, or to use my gun. The grip was so sudden and rapid that I am unable to say how it was done; whether the bear rose and struck me down with his fore-paws, or whether he ran me down. But from the character of the injuries I have sustained (contusions and a deep cut of the left ear), I conclude that the former must have been the case. The next thing I felt was the tearing of my scalp, which was only protected by a skull-cap. This is their mode of attacking seals, but, owing to the slipperiness of their skulls, the teeth glide off. The cry of help which I uttered frightened the animal for a moment; but he turned again and bit me several times on the head. The alarm had meanwhile been heard by the captain, who had not yet reached the cabin. He hurried on deck, convinced himself that it was really an alarm, roused up the crew and hastened on to the ice, bringing assistance to his struggling comrade. The noise evidently frightened the bear, and he trotted off with his prey, which he dragged by the head. A shot fired to frighten the creature effected its purpose, inasmuch as he dropped me, and sprang a few steps aside; but he immediately seized me by the arm, and, his hold proving insufficient, he seized me by the right hand, on which was a fur glove, and this gave the pursuers time to come up with the brute, which had by its great speed left them far behind. He was now making for the shore, and would certainly have escaped with his prey, had he succeeded in climbing the bank. However, as he came to the edge of the ice, he turned along the coast-side, continuing on the rough and broken ice, which greatly retarded his speed, and thus allowed his pursuers upon the ice to gain rapidly upon him. After being dragged in this way for about 300 paces, almost strangled by my shawl, which the bear had seized at the same time, he dropped me, and immediately afterwards Koldewey was bending over me with the words, ‘Thank God! he is still alive!’ The bear stood a few paces on one side, evidently undecided what course to pursue, until a bullet gave him a hint that it was high time to take himself off.

“No one thought of pursuing him, for their first care was to carry the wounded man on board, whither the doctor and Herr Tranmitz had gone in order to prepare the requisites for binding up the wounds. The main injuries were in the head, where, amongst numerous other wounds from the bites, two especially from 4 to 6 inches long ran along the scalp, the edges of which hung loose, leaving the skull bare for one-third to two-fifths of an inch. The other wounds, about twenty in number, were in part caused by striking against the fragments and rough broken edges of the ice. It is worth while mentioning that, neither during the act of receiving the wounds nor during the process of healing, which progressed favourably, did I experience the smallest pain.”

The sledge-journey to the north left on the 8th March 1870. The party consisted of ten men, and they had two sledges. The smaller sledge had four men who were to accompany the expedition for a week, and then return after laying a dépôt. A storm and the low temperature forced them to return to the ship a few days after leaving.

On the 24th March they started again. During the first day one of the men had the whole of his right foot frost-bitten, and the convoy-sledge had to return to the ship. A herd of musk-oxen was seen on Hochstetter’s Promontory, but none was shot. A bear was killed on the 4th of April, and supplied the party with meat, and his fat served as fuel four days. On the 6th of April they crossed the 76° of latitude, and on the south side of Cape Karl Ritter discovered traces of Esquimaux summer tents. On the 11th April, Cape Bismarck in 76° 47′ was reached, and this was the end of the actual sledge-journey. Leaving their tent here, they journeyed to a mountain in 77° 1′ north latitude, and 18° 50′ west longitude, where a cairn was erected. Provisions were now running short, and they were compelled to return. Two musk-oxen were shot at Cape Bismarck. Like many of the other expeditions about this period, they suffered greatly from want of snow-shoes, and frequently had to wade through snow up to the thighs. The difficulties of such a sledge-journey are well described by Lieutenant Payer:—

“Amongst other disagreeables of an Arctic sledge-journey is its monotony. The ideas and wishes contained within the limited horizon of life in the Arctic world pass as quickly away as the eye is wearied by the monotony of the landscape.

“Conversation carried on by men straining at the traces can certainly not be very animated. The frost prevents smoking, for the pipes freeze. There is a continued conflict against the loss of warmth; and the cold penetrates in a hundred different ways. Now the chin is numbed, a painful straining of the forehead sets in, or a violent pricking of the nostrils, which are exposed to the wind. Sometimes one stands in danger of the heels, the toes, or the hands being frost-bitten. The hair of the face, and even the eyelashes, get hoar with frost,—indeed, the eyes are often completely closed,—and every frozen spot on the body must at once be rubbed with lumps of snow resembling pumice-stone, until a warm, pricking glow succeeds. When, as in the case of many of our party, the frozen hands or feet were not rubbed with snow until too late, it led to numerous blisters. The fingers swelled up into lumps, and became quite numbed; but the noses (the whole eight of which were frozen) were more fortunate: they emerged from a white into a red stage of enlarged dimensions, were eventually covered with a parchment-like skin, remaining for some time most sensitive, and by slow degrees regained their normal condition, so that by the time we landed in Europe they were all right again. The heat of our bodies, which we did our best to retain by warm woollen clothes, was carried away in a moment by the slightest wind; and if it increased, the cold crept between every button of our seal-skin clothing; the penetrating icy wind was felt at every stitch; the arms hung down like lead, deadly cold, and no one dared to walk about without a mask. If the wind rose still more, curtains of penetrating snow-crystals rose with it from the ground; then a snowstorm, which always comes from the north, might be expected, announcing itself by a lofty white appearance in the south, the violet colour and close proximity of the mountains, and low-hanging clouds. But still we risk the march forward against the thickening snow, until painful breathing and stiffening limbs warn us to pitch our tent.

“Under ordinary circumstances this was done about 6 or 7 p.m., on a smooth surface. A hole was quickly dug with shovels, on which the tent was erected, and the dug-out blocks of snow laid round it for safety against the storm, and the sledge placed as a shield to the north. The tent was kept upright by means of four long poles, each crossed at the top, stretched by ropes fastened to axes or piles driven into the ground. When the sleeping-sack had been laid down in the tent, our personal baggage settled, the kettle filled with blocks of snow by the cook, the lamp lit, and the rations given out, our comrades, who, owing to the increased cold since the setting of the sun, had meanwhile been running and jumping to keep themselves warm, were allowed to enter.

“During our last half-hour’s march, each man had been busy thawing his beard with his hands, for it had been changed into a lump of ice, so that it might not melt whilst the cooking was going on, and so wet their clothes and coverings. As soon as all were in their places in the tent, the aperture was closed, and preparations made for passing the night.

“The stiff sail-cloth boots, fast frozen to the stockings which were to form our pillows, were thawed between the hands, and with difficulty taken off; the stockings, thick with rimy snow, were scraped, then wrung and laid upon the breast, to dry by our only available means—our bodily heat—so as to prepare them for the following day’s work.

“At last all have wriggled themselves into the sleeping−sack, each one lying partly on his neighbour, and in this modest space waiting for the evening meal.

“The first hour is spent in melting the snow, the second in preparing the meal, which is devoured eagerly, and as cool as possible. The development of steam during the cooking (which in the very cold weather consumed one bottle of spirit, or 1 lb.) put us into such a vapour-bath that we could not even see our next neighbour; the tent walls were completely wet through; and the temperature rose rapidly. The dampness of the coverings and clothes, from the condensation of the steam on the rime, of course increased, and the opening of the tent door occasioned a fall of snow within, so that by the time the cooking was over, all was covered with a thick coating of ice or crust of snow.

“It is about eight or nine o’clock: the small rations of boiled beef, soup, and vegetables are no longer enough to allay the daily increasing hunger; but sleep buries that, as well as our burning thirst, in oblivion. Only occasionally did our sparing supply of spirits allow us to prepare an extra quantity of water.

“During the march each one carried an india-rubber or tin bottle full of snow, on his bare body, turned as much as possible to the sun, and often after many hours only a few spare spoonfuls (and sometimes nothing) could be obtained from it.

“Last of all, the cook, after cleaning out the kettle, also fights his way into the sleeping-sack, which thus attains its proper complement. A side position is the only one possible—to-night all lie to the left, to-morrow all to the right. Comfortable positions, such as stretching on one’s back for example, meet with a miserable protest, as well as any other after-movement; and when at length silence falls upon all, the eight men form one single lump.

“The nose acts no longer merely as a condenser, as on the spring journey; it now becomes a cold-pole, and leaving it outside the rimy and icy covering is preferable to burying it in the questionable atmosphere of the sack. The mouth, as the only outlet of exhalation, must remain open, but the teeth get so cold that they feel like icicles, and the mask, which it is necessary to wear in the night, freezes to the long beard.

“Happy were those who, during the lowest temperature within the first fourteen days of our journey, could really lose themselves during the hours of rest, if only for a short time, for they were generally passed in a painful waiting for a happy release, by—dragging!

“This general wakefulness made it unnecessary to set a special watch for bears and foxes, which occasionally made a bold raid upon the stores in the sledge, for they had never yet succeeded in approaching us quite noiselessly.

“In spite of all efforts to the contrary, the cutting cold too soon penetrated the sleeping-sack; within the tent the temperature sinks from 60° or 65° to below zero, and the body has to be again refreshed with artificial warmth, by motion and hot food.

“The natural consequences of this state of temperature is a continually increasing sensation of freezing until the morning. During the day the sack has got thoroughly cold on the sledge, and must again be warmed by bodily heat, being frozen into thick folds as hard as iron. Whoever lies upon these seems to be lying on laths, which towards morning begin to lose their sharpness. One or the other, we keep a bottle of snow about us. All are shivering, scarcely any sleep. For hours together we are in a state of suffocation, the pressure on either side causing a feeling as though the collar-bone was being forced into the chest and the shoulders crushed. Each lies upon his arm (which of course goes to sleep), and is often prevented from breathing by the smell of train-oil proceeding from his neighbour’s seal-skin. The breath condenses over the face and upon the sloping tent-side, in long snow-webs, which fall at the slightest movement.

“The misery of tent-life reaches its maximum during an uninterrupted snowstorm of sometimes three days’ duration. So long as this assumes the form of a hurricane, no one can leave the tent without danger of either being suffocated or blown away. These Greenland snowstorms, which carry small stones with them, greatly resemble West Indian hurricanes, only that the sun is completely darkened by the rush of snow.

“Of course our tents would soon have been blown over, if some precautions had not been taken. Great distress reigned within. The wind greatly lessened the already small space by pressing in the walls. Through the canvas, through every stitch or smallest opening, spurts a small flood of the finest snow, like flour out of a flour-mill, or collects itself on the inner surface, where its ever-increasing weight at length brings it down like small avalanches. As long as the storm rages the cold is alleviated from the equalisation of warm air over the sea, though it seldom allows any heat to remain in the tent, so that we were still in a cold of from 14° to 5° F.

“By degrees a covering of snow at least an inch thick lies on the sack, under which we must patiently wait till the storm ceases. We scrape it away with the knife, but it soon returns again. On some occasions this snow began to melt, and penetrate the clothes, making us look like seals coming up out of the water.

“In a steadily rising temperature, too, the snow on which we lay would melt, and the sack get wet underneath, not to dry again till the summer, but freeze on the sledge in those hard folds we dreaded so much. We repeatedly felt the want of india-rubber coverings.

“This state of things often lasted from two to three days, and we waited with an indifference bordering on stupidity, sitting squeezed, with numbed hands, mending the gloves or stockings, almost freezing, masked; beards full of ice, stuffed up with a chaos of frozen clothes and boots, and, worst of all, fasting. The duration of the journey, as well as the extent of country to be explored, depended upon the use of the provisions. If, therefore, some part of the time was lost through storms, this loss, in spite of hunger, thirst, and loss of strength, could only be regained by reduced rations, which often only consisted of a thin soup.

“The saucepan has become leaky, a small sea has formed on the sack, the spirit-lamp runs, and repeatedly threatens to destroy the tent by fire, which, during the storm, would be the work of a moment. The cook grumbles, burns his fingers to-day which were frozen yesterday;—urged on by hunger, his cooking is subject to sharp criticism, as each is waiting for the eventful moment when the meal shall be ready.

“All food was frozen—even brandy began to freeze one night—meat in the tins or ham had to be chopped with the axe; butter could, without any fear, be carried in the waistcoat-pocket, to be enjoyed on the march.

“Woe to the unfortunate man who, in a lull of the storm, goes into the open air. He is almost torn to pieces, stifled by the snow-filled air, betrayed into snow-drifts, and yet not daring to open his eyes. Numbed with cold, white as a miller, he returns to the tent. Here he is a subject of horror to his neighbours in the sack, whom he intends robbing of their warmth to thaw himself. The snow-powder blown in upon the opening of the tent door has penetrated through all the clothes, and the skin has to be scraped and any frost-bites that may have set in have to be dispersed by rubbing. Indeed, the disturbance and excitement consequent upon a walk in the open air does not subside for some hours.

“But the snow-blind suffer the most from such a state of things. Out of consideration to them, smoking was dropped.

“The irritation caused by the white snowflakes, which with us are easily beaten aside, cause great suffering in Greenland, from the inflamed state of the eyes and the thick heavy atmosphere, to those who may have been unfortunate enough to break their snow-spectacles.

“Beating them off while on the march is impossible, for the damp cloth freezes at once to a lump of ice, making the eyes insupportably cold. The simple bandage, on the other hand, does not save one from the steady burning pain, which acts like needle-pricks. Opening the eye for a moment is not to be thought of. The blind are obliged to pull with the others, as the laden sledge cannot be moved but by our united strength.

“As a rule, we break up about 5 a.m. The thin black coffee is taken with some ice-cold bread-dust, which effectually destroys all its warming properties, mixed into it like a mash, and then follows laborious packing up of the clothes, in order to be prepared for all weathers. The frozen boots must first be thawed with the hands, and the folds taken out, the tent freed from snow, and beaten until pliable. The sleeping-sack receives the same treatment, which, as a sign of our disgust and its daily increasing weight from the ice, we named ‘the Walrus.’

“The soaked seal-skin clothing freezes at once in the air, and damp condenses on the hair in frost-blossoms. One or the other rubs his face with scraped snow to refresh his eyes—a novel kind of washing, in default of water, though with the slightest breath of wind his hands are in danger of freezing. After every snowstorm, tent and sledge have to be dug out, and the contents cleaned with difficulty.

“All this business occupies about two hours, when the traces are taken up with great satisfaction, as a long-looked-for release from the pain of the nightly couch. The sledge is loosened from its frozen position, and the journey continued, which, after twenty-three days, brought us to 77° of latitude, the most northerly point ever reached on the east coast of Greenland.”

The coast along which this sledge-journey was made was found to be much broken up, and the opinion was formed that the land might possibly resolve itself into a group of islands.

The ice having broken up, the Germania left its winter harbour on 22nd July, and steamed northwards. In 75° 29′ it was stopped by ice, and had to return to the south. Kaiser Franz-Joseph’s Fjord was afterwards explored; and on the 17th of August the return home to Germany was begun. By the 25th of August they were clear of the ice.

“On the 10th of September we were a few miles from Heligoland. A heavy storm blew from the south-west, but in the evening shifted to the north-west, enabling us to run in to shore. At daybreak, though we had seen no pilot, we recognised Langerooge, and steered along the Southwall to the mouth of the Weser. No sign of a ship! The Weser seemed to have died out. Where are the pilots hidden? Are they lying perdu on account of yesterday’s storm? Well, then, we must run into the Weser without them; the wind is favourable, the weather clear, the outer buoy will be easy to find; there is the church-tower of Wangerooge. Suspecting nothing, we steered on; the tower bears S.S.W., south-west by south, south-west, but no buoy in sight. The captain and steersman look at each other in astonishment. Can we have been so mistaken and out of our reckoning? But no! That is certainly Wangerooge; the depth of water agrees, our compass is correct. No doubt about it, we are in the Weser; something unusual must have happened! Still no sail in sight! But what is that? Yonder are the roads. There are several large vessels under steam; they at least can give us some information. So we make for them. We saluted the German flag, and soon the cry was heard, ‘War, war with France; Napoleon is prisoner! France has declared a Republic; our armies are before Paris!’ And then, ‘Hansa destroyed in the ice, crew saved.’ ”

Captain Charles Francis Hall, after having dwelt with the Esquimaux about eight years, during which he lived like one of them and acquired their language, returned to America in 1869.

He had a great ambition to reach the spot “where there is no North, no East, no West.” Early in 1870 he began his agitation for an expedition to the North Pole. He lectured in various parts of the United States, and received encouragement from the Hon. George M. Robeson, Secretary of the United States Navy. Ultimately a wooden river gun-boat of 387 tons, called the Periwinkle, was given to Hall, and was afterwards rechristened Polaris. Congress also granted 50,000 dollars.

Hall, who was not himself a seaman, engaged Captain S. O. Budington as sailing-master. Captain Budington had made thirteen whaling voyages to Baffin’s Bay, and was therefore an experienced ice-navigator. Dr. Bessels was naturalist, and Mr. Meyer meteorologist. Morton, of Kane’s expedition, also accompanied Hall. Mr. Grinnell, the munificent promoter of expeditions for the search of Franklin, presented Hall with the flag which, in 1838, had been with Wilkes to the Antarctic regions, and which had since been in the northern Polar seas with De Haven, Kane, and Hayes.

Hall’s first intention was to proceed up Jones Sound, but his opinion regarding this route changed before he left the States. He trusted chiefly to dogs for his sledge-travelling, and did not expect to reach a higher latitude than 80° during the first year.

The Polaris left New London on 3rd July 1871, and St. John’s on 19th July. The coast of Greenland was first seen on 27th July, and Upernavik was reached on 19th August. Here Hans, of Kane’s and Hayes’ expedition, was engaged as dog-driver and servant, and received a salary of 300 dollars per annum. His wife and three children, who were dressed in ragged and filthy skin clothing, accompanied him. Their luggage consisted of tents, tools, cooking utensils, implements of the chase, and three or four puppies whose eyes could scarcely bear the light.

The Polaris was first stopped by the ice off the western shore of Hakluyt Island, about 5 a.m. on the 27th August, but by forcing ahead, open water was reached the same day. At 3 p.m. on that day the Polaris was opposite Cape Alexander; at 5 p.m. it was off Littleton Island; Cairn Point was passed at 6.30; and at 8 p.m. the parallel of Rensselaer Harbour was reached.

Smith Sound was found quite open. At midnight a heavy pack was seen, but in about two hours its south-western point was rounded. At 3.30 a.m. on the 28th, Cape Hawks was on the port beam, about 15 miles distant.

The width of the southern entrance of Kennedy Channel was estimated to be about 35 miles, and it was found to narrow towards the north to about 25 miles.

The highest latitude, estimated by Hall to be 82° 26′, but afterwards corrected to 82° 11′, was reached at 6 a.m. on the 30th August. Hall had therefore passed from Cape Alexander, at the entrance of Smith Sound, to his highest point in Robeson Channel, in about two and a half days. He had carried his ship much farther north than any ship had ever reached before.

The barrier of ice had now been reached, and it became necessary to search for a harbour. Steaming southwards, a little bay was seen, but after two attempts to enter it, Hall had to acknowledge defeat. He named it “Repulse Harbour.”

Budington wished the Polaris to take winter quarters in Newman Bay, but Hall decided to try and reach the west coast. After boring for a distance of 12 miles, the Polaris was beset, and was not released until the 4th September, when a course was made for the eastern shore. On the 5th September the anchor was dropped about 300 yards from shore, in latitude 81° 37′, and about 4 miles south of Cape Lupton.

Hall named Robeson Channel after the Secretary to the Navy, and the Harbour was named “Thank-God Harbour.”

A large quantity of provisions and stores was now landed, and preparations were at once made to explore the surrounding neighbourhood.

Traces of Esquimaux were soon found; and on the 6th September, Hall and some of his companions ascended Cape Lupton, from which Robeson Channel could be seen as far as Cape Union. The bay extending from Cape Lupton to Cape Budington was named “Polaris Bay.”

A hunting-party was sent out on 18th September. It returned on the 23rd, and reported having killed a musk-ox. This was very interesting news, as it was the first musk-ox ever seen on the west coast of Greenland.

On 10th October, Captain Hall, Mr. Chester, and the Esquimaux Joe and Hans started on a sledge-journey towards the north. On the 15th, Hall camped in sight of a bay which he named “Newman Bay.” On the 18th, Hall and Mr. Chester ascended to the top of Cape Brevoort, situated on the north side of this bay. The return journey was made from this point.

During this journey the party slept in snow-houses. They returned to the ship on 24th October. All were well with the exception of Captain Hall. He complained of not having his usual amount of energy. Soon after his return he became sick and vomited a good deal. Dr. Bessels announced that same evening that Hall’s left side was paralysed and that he had had an apoplectic attack. On the 29th he had marked symptoms of insanity, and believed that an attempt was being made to poison him. However, by the 6th November he had largely recovered, but at night he again became alarmingly ill. On the 7th he became comatose, and died on the morning of the 8th November. On the 10th November he was buried on the shore of Polaris Bay, and a wooden monument was erected over his grave.

It was a sad and unexpected ending to a life full of high hope.

On the death of Captain Hall, the command devolved upon Captain Budington.

On the 18th November a severe gale began. It increased in violence on the 19th, until the wind reached 52 miles per hour. It continued on the 20th and 21st, and on the latter date the Polaris was found to be afloat. With great difficulty the ship was secured to a large grounded iceberg which was named “Providence Berg.” The Polaris was thus saved from being carried into the pack.

Nothing of special interest occurred during the remainder of the winter. In March 1872, Joe the Eskimo, in one of his hunting expeditions, discovered Petermann’s Fiord.

On 27th March a sledge-party in charge of Dr. Bessels set out with the object of reaching Cape Constitution, Morton’s farthest, and ascertaining its correct position. The party reached within 30 miles of the cape, but had then to return.

The whole expedition were anxious to explore the region to the north, but the strange conclusion was arrived at that it was necessary to proceed in boats. The idea of the “open sea” had evidently some influence with them. When a small channel formed it gave rise to high hopes that a start with the boats would be made, but these hopes were soon dashed when the channel closed again. Instead of setting out with sledge-parties along the coast, the spring and part of the summer were allowed to slip away while they waited for open water. Yet they were in a more favourable position for making an advance towards the north of Greenland than any party before or since.

On the 8th June a start was made from Cape Lupton with a boat, which had previously been taken there, but it was crushed in the ice next day.

Another start was made on the 10th with two boats, and the party succeeded in reaching Newman Bay without much difficulty, but found it impossible to proceed farther north with the boats.

During the month of June the Polaris leaked badly, and the pumps had to be kept frequently at work. On the 26th of this month the ship was liberated from the ice by means of saws, and Budington at once determined to start for the north. On approaching Cape Sumner, however, the pack was found to be impenetrable. After crossing to Cape Lieber without finding an opening, the Polaris returned to “Thank-God Harbour.” On the 28th June, Budington received the news that the boat-party was at Newman Bay, and he attempted to take the Polaris north so as to pick up the boats, but the pack was again met at Cape Sumner. He then sent instructions for the boat-party to return. The boats were abandoned at Newman Bay, and the last of the party returned to the Polaris on 22nd July.

At the beginning of August, Budington determined to start towards the south as soon as an opportunity presented itself. This occurred on the 12th August at 4.30 p.m. Next day a close pack was met, and the Polaris was fastened to a large floe and allowed to drift slowly down the channel. Cape Constitution was passed on the 14th. During the rest of the month, and throughout the whole of September, the drift southward was very slow. On the 12th October the Polaris was within 2 miles of Cairn Point, and on the 14th Northumberland Island was visible. During September and October a house was built on the floe.

On the 15th October a severe gale sprang up, and preparations had to be made in case it was found necessary to abandon the ship. During her drift southwards the Polaris had been nipped several times, and was leaking badly. During this gale she was again nipped so severely that Budington ordered provisions and stores to be thrown upon the ice. The Esquimaux women and children took refuge on the floe. While some of the crew were carrying articles to a safe place on the floe, the Polaris was suddenly drifted away from the ice. So quickly did this catastrophe take place that the floe-party soon disappeared from view.

Budington now called all hands to muster, and found that fourteen men remained on board. The Polaris drifted rapidly until toward midnight, when she ran into some young ice, and her progress was stayed. Next morning the ship’s position was found to be half-way between Littleton Island and Cairn Point. No trace of the missing party could be seen. Later in the day the Polaris reached the coast, and was secured with heavy hawsers to large grounded hummocks.

On the 19th October two Esquimaux appeared at the ship, and on this date it was decided to build a house on shore. More Esquimaux arrived on the 21st, and they gave great assistance in sledging articles to the shore. The house was soon erected, and was used by the party throughout the winter. Large numbers of Esquimaux made frequent visits, and were very friendly with the party during the whole time of their stay.

Towards the end of February 1873 it was decided to begin the construction of two boats in which the party intended to make a retreat to the Danish settlements.

On the 30th May almost all the land-ice broke away, and with it the Polaris went adrift. She was carried about 200 yards towards the south, when she again grounded. At high tide her upper deck was 2 feet under water.

On the 3rd June 1873 the party set out for the south in their two boats. On the 23rd of this month, in Melville Bay, not far from Cape York, they were gladdened by the sight of a whaler. It turned out to be the Ravenscraig of Kirkcaldy, Scotland, owned by Ninian Lockhart, and commanded by Captain William Allen. The Polaris party were enthusiastically received, and were treated with the greatest kindness. They were ultimately taken to Dundee.

We must now return to the party on the floe. It consisted of ten Americans and nine Esquimaux. The Americans were Tyson, Meyer, Herron, Jackson, Kruger, Jamka, Nindemann, Aunting, Lindqvist, and Johnson. They had two boats, two kayaks, a canvas boat, and some navigation instruments, besides a moderate quantity of provisions.

Next day, after their separation from the Polaris, the floe on which they were was found to be near Littleton Island. The party took to their boats, intending to make for the land and to look for the Polaris, but a breeze sprang up and obliged them to haul the boats on the ice. Soon after this, the Polaris was seen rounding a point 8 or 10 miles away. Signals were made, but were not noticed by those on the vessel. After this, the floe drifted away from land towards the west coast, then across to the neighbourhood of Northumberland Island, and finally southwards to the east of the Carey Islands.

The Esquimaux during this time were successful in capturing a number of seals. The provisions were served out by weight, 11 oz. being a day’s allowance.

During October three snow-houses were built. By November the temperature became very low, and the effects of exposure and want of food began to tell on the party. Some of the men trembled when they tried to walk, and the Esquimaux children often cried with hunger, although all was given them that could possibly be spared. The services of Joe and Hans were invaluable: without them, the chances of life would have been very much diminished. So keen had the appetites of the party become that the seal-meat was eaten uncooked, with the skin and hair on.

On the 7th December the latitude of 74° 4′ was reached. During this month the allowance of food was 16 oz. Christmas was celebrated by an extra meal. At breakfast, an additional ounce of bread made the soup a little thicker than usual. New Year’s Day did not pass so well. One of the party described the dinner as “mouldy bread and short allowance.” Captain Tyson stated that he had dined “on about 2 feet of frozen entrails and a little blubber.”

On the 6th January 1873 the latitude was approximately 72° 7′. On the 15th of this month the temperature went down to 40° below zero. On the 19th, the sun reappeared after an absence of eighty-three days.

On the 21st February the rations were reduced to 7 oz., so that they might last till April. At the beginning of March the temperature was over 30° below zero, and food was scarce. On the 2nd of the month Joe was fortunate in shooting a large seal, an “ookgook,” and it can be imagined with what delight the starving party received it. They feasted on it till most of them became ill. Soon after this seal was captured a storm came on, and it was feared that the floe would break up: the noise of the ice was like that of artillery. All the party remained dressed and ready in case of sudden disaster. After the gale began to moderate, it was found that the ice all around had been broken up, and that the piece on which they were was now only about 175 yards in size.

On the 12th March the latitude was found to be 64° 32′. On the 27th of this month a bear was shot. This was very much appreciated: the flesh was compared to pork. On the last day of March the latitude was about the same as Cape Farewell—the most southern point of Greenland.

On the 1st April it was found necessary to abandon the floe and take to the boat. When all the party entered, the boat was found to be overloaded, and 100 lb. of meat and nearly all the clothing had to be thrown overboard. During the next few days the party were kept continually launching and then hauling up the boat on the ice. On the 7th April the ice split across the tent; the party managed to save themselves, but lost their breakfast. Next day the ice split between the tent and the boat, and it was only with great difficulty that the latter was secured.

During the next eight days they were imprisoned on the ice, and the amount of food ran very low. On the 18th April a seal was shot by Joe and was eaten raw. Next day a sea struck the floe on which they were camped and washed away the tent, skins, and most of the bed-clothing. It was with the utmost difficulty that the men prevented the boat from being lost. They held on to the boat from 9 p.m. till 7 next morning. During this time many of them were frequently struck by blocks of ice and severely bruised. On the 22nd April they were saved from starvation by the capture of a bear.

At 4.30 p.m. on the 28th April a steamer hove in sight, but failed to see them. Next day another steamer was seen, but after the party believed they were observed, it changed its course and disappeared. On the 30th April, on some fog clearing away, they were overjoyed to see a steamer close at hand. Shots and shouting soon attracted attention, and in a few minutes it was alongside. The vessel was the sealer Tigress, Captain Bartlett of Newfoundland. The party were picked up in latitude 53° 35′, off Grady Harbour, Labrador.

The return to civilised life and its food and comforts was attended with swollen legs and feet, diarrhœa, and severe headache. The Tigress landed the party at St. John’s on 12th May.

The voyage of the Polaris extended considerably our knowledge of the Smith Sound route towards the Pole. It also did much to explode the theory of an open Polar Sea. The Polaris was carried to a more northern point than a vessel had ever before reached, and it prepared the way for the British Expedition of 1875.

One might naturally suppose that the Arctic regions would offer no further attractions to those who suffered the terrible experience on the drifting ice, but it will be afterwards seen that at least one of the party played a noble rôle in another American Expedition which met with disaster.