On the whole of the earth’s surface there is probably no more desolate and uninviting country than Greenland. Extending for a distance of over 1400 miles from north to south, and of some 900 miles from east to west at its broadest point, almost the whole of it is covered with a permanent ice-cap, which probably attains in places a depth of 3000 feet, and on which it is absolutely impossible for a human being to sustain life for long.

Some small portions of the coast are inhabited by tribes of Eskimos and by settlers, while here and there traces remain of its early Norse discoverers, many of them probably Christians, as Holm, in 1880, found ruins of four stone churches in the Julianshaab district. These settlements are confined to small areas on the western coast; the eastern coast, with the exception of a small tract between Cape Bismarck and Cape Farewell, whither a few Eskimos migrated from the Parry Islands, is entirely uninhabited. This coast, indeed, protected as it is by an almost impassable barrier of ice and shrouded by perpetual fog, has never been very thoroughly explored, in spite of the persistent efforts of generations of daring travellers. During the earlier days of Arctic exploration, Hudson, the Dane Daniell, Gale Hamke, Han Egede and his son, Olsen Wallör, and other whalers mapped out small sections of the coast, but their discoveries did not amount to very much.

In 1822, however, Captain William Scoresby, jun., one of the most famous of Scottish whalers, visited the coast, and, in the intervals of fishing, succeeded in charting and sketching it from Hudson’s Cape Hold-with-Hope to Gale Hamke Bay, making at the same time a number of valuable astronomical and trigonometrical observations. Captain Edward Sabine, while engaged on his great pendulum work of 1823, visited Pendulum Island with Captain Clavering, who explored much of the coast in the neighbourhood, the field which he thus opened up being later developed by Koldewey, with whose voyage in the Germania we have already dealt. Among others who have contributed to our still scanty knowledge of this desolate land are Blosseville, Wandell, Graah, Giesecke, Rink, Dalager, Jensen, Steenstrup, Knutsen, Knudsen, Eberlin, Garde, Ryder, Drygalski, and Nathorst, thanks to whose efforts much of the east coast has been mapped out.

For centuries even less was known of the great ice-cap which forms the interior, and, until recently, it remained practically untrodden by the foot of man. The Eskimos believed it to be the abode of the Kivitogs, or sorcerers, and would not attempt to penetrate it, while few of the explorers who had the hardihood to venture upon it succeeded in achieving much. In 1870 Nordenskiöld and Berggren, the naturalist, succeeded in penetrating it to a distance of thirty-five miles from Aulaitsivik Fiord, and discovered a true ice-plant and a dust of cosmic origin, which the geologist named kryokonite. Repeating the attempt in 1883, Nordenskiöld, after fifteen marches, reached 48° 15′ W., at an elevation of 4900 feet. Seeing that it was impossible for him to proceed much farther, he sent on two Laps on skis, who covered another 140 miles, and reported on returning that, though they had reached an elevation of 6600 feet, the ice-field still rose steadily.

The first man to cross Greenland from one coast to the other was Dr Fridtjof Nansen, who was later to win still further fame for himself by his daring attempt to cross the North Pole in the Eram. Nansen was born on October 16, 1861, and from his earliest youth he displayed the keenest interest in natural science and that absolute contempt for danger which proved of such immense service to him later on. It was in 1887, while curator of the Bergen museum, that he first announced his intention of crossing that terrible ice-cap which had hitherto defied the efforts of even the hardiest explorers. The announcement was greeted with ridicule, but, nevertheless, he received over forty applications from would-be companions, and the sum of £300, the estimated cost of the expedition, was presented by a generous Dane.

No sooner had it been made possible for him to carry out his plans than he set about the preparations for the journey. Not only was it necessary for him to select his companions and to arrange all the details of the route which he proposed to follow and the equipment which he meant to take with him, but he also thought it advisable to test the various kinds of skis and snowshoes on which the trip was to be made, and to accustom himself to hardships by sleeping on a snow mountain protected from the cold by only a bag.

His companions were to be five in number, and consisted of Otto Sverdrup, a retired ship’s captain; Lieut. Dietrichson, of the Norwegian army; Christian Christiansen Frana, a peasant from North Norway; and two Laps, named Balto and Ravna. Nansen’s plan was daring in the extreme, for he proposed to land on the east coast of Greenland, and to make his way as best as he could to the west. It will be obvious that, having once embarked upon the trip, the party could not possibly turn back. Ahead of them lay civilisation and food; behind them lay nothing but an uninhabited and inhospitable coast, where they would be compelled to die of starvation should they return to it. By adopting this route, therefore, he burnt his boats behind him.

In May 1888 Nansen and his companions sailed from Norway in the sealer which was to take them to Greenland. They had made an arrangement with the captain that business was to come first, and that he was not to go out of his way to land them. Accordingly it was not until July 17, when the ship happened to be within two miles and a half of the shore, that the explorers were able to put off in their two boats. As we have had occasion to point out more than once, the east coast of Greenland is generally encumbered with ice, and Nansen found that reaching the shore was by no means so easy a matter as he had anticipated. For many days they were drifted about with the pack, sometimes being carried as far as thirty miles out to sea, and it was not until July 29 that they were able to effect a landing. Even now, however, they were not able to start immediately across the ice-cap, for in the course of their wanderings they had been carried 200 miles to the south, and it was necessary for them to make a toilsome journey northward before, on August 10, they were able to set their course for the west coast.

They found at once that it was quite impossible for them to travel by day, as the snow was so soft that very little progress could be made. Even at night the conditions were but little better, for their way lay over rough and hummocky ice, which was frequently intersected by chasms, and rain fell in torrents; consequently they were only able to cover a few miles on each march. As they travelled upward, however, towards that high plateau of which Central Greenland consists, the cold grew more intense, with the result that the ice became firmer, and they were able to travel by day. The cold, however, though it brought relief to them in one direction, was not without its disadvantages, for they were unable to find any more drinking water, and were obliged to content themselves with snow, which they melted in flasks carried at their breasts.

The upward journey occupied them about three weeks, and it was with the utmost relief that they found themselves at last on the plateau, at an elevation of about 9000 feet. The ascent had been terribly steep, the work of dragging the five sledges had been excessively arduous, and so much time had consequently been spent, that Nansen determined to change his course, and, instead of pressing on to Christianshaab, to make for Godthaab, his nearest point in a south-westerly direction. The second half of the journey afforded a very pleasant contrast to the first. Abandoning the biggest of the sledges and binding the others together in couples, the explorers set sail and sent them racing down the slope while they glided beside them on their skis. As they neared the coast they were obliged to go more cautiously, for they very nearly tumbled head over heels down the first of the precipices which break up the ice-cap at this point.

With some difficulty they succeeded in reaching the shore, and here the party split up. Nansen, Sverdrup, and one of the Laps made a crazy and exceedingly uncomfortable boat out of willows, in which they sailed to the Eskimo settlement of New Herrnhut. Here they were received by a missionary, and a party was sent back for the others, who arrived in safety on October 16.

Nansen had intended to return to Norway that autumn, but the last ship had sailed, and he was consequently obliged to spend the winter at Godthaab. He ultimately reached home at the end of May, in the happy knowledge that he had performed a feat which had hitherto been considered impossible, and that he had proved the interior of Greenland to be a vast ice-field. The journey had cost him far more than he had originally anticipated, but the deficit was soon made good by private subscription.

Nansen was not the only man of the time who was attempting to solve the riddle of Central Greenland, for before he set out on his daring journey, the brilliant young American, Lieutenant Peary, had already begun that series of raids upon the inland ice which were eventually to be attended by very remarkable results.

Peary is a native of Maine, and he began his career as an engineer in the United States navy. He seems, however, to have been predestined by nature for the life of an Arctic traveller, for, as Sir Clements Markham well put it, he combines “forethought and prudence in planning his operations with great skill and undaunted resolution in carrying them into execution”—qualities which more, perhaps, than any others go to make a successful explorer. It was in the year 1885 that he first turned his attention seriously to that branch of work with which his name is now so intimately connected. Realising that there was still a vast field for research in Central Greenland, he then suggested to the academies and learned societies of the United States that he should undertake an expedition thither, with a view to pursuing scientific investigations in that practically unknown country, and to discovering once and for all whether or not Greenland was an island. The idea was taken up enthusiastically, and sufficient funds were soon raised to enable him to carry his plans into execution.

His first trip was more or less tentative, for he was at that time totally inexperienced in Arctic travel, and it was, of course, necessary for him to find out exactly what difficulties he would have to encounter on such a journey as that which he proposed to undertake. Leaving America in May 1886, he was soon at Godhaven, where he met his friend Christian Maigaard, a prominent official in those parts, who intended to accompany him on his journey. Thence he sailed up the Pakitsok Fiord, at the end of which lay his starting-point. After carefully reconnoitering the glacier and discovering a tongue of ice which seemed reasonably accessible, he started off with Maigaard and two Eskimos, their equipment consisting of a couple of sledges and provisions for about three weeks. Their way did not lie in particularly pleasant places, for the ice-field was intersected with innumerable crevasses which needed a good deal of negotiation. He found, however, that travelling was by no means impossible, and the party succeeded in penetrating the interior to a distance of about a hundred miles before lack of provisions compelled them to beat a retreat.

He returned to America more enthusiastic than ever about his plans for exploring the north of Greenland, and fully convinced that he could accomplish great things there, given the opportunity. It was not, however, until the year 1891 that he was able to set out on his second journey on the steamboat Kite, commanded by Captain Richard Pick. On this occasion he was accompanied by his wife; Dr Cook, the distinguished ethnologist; Gibson, an ornithologist; John Verhoeff, a mineralogist; his own coloured servant; and last, but by no means least, by Elvind Astrup, a young Norwegian who did splendid work not only on this but also on Peary’s later expeditions. There was also on board a party of nine men of science, with Professor Heilprin at their head, whose task it was to make researches and observations while Peary was away on his long journey.

One serious misadventure marked the passage out, as Peary had the misfortune to break his leg, with the result that he was absolutely helpless when the party landed at M’Cormick Bay, and was precluded from taking part in any of the short autumn trips round Inglefield Gulf.

The first days after their arrival at the bay were, of course, spent in the erection of the portable dwelling which they had brought with them, and to which they gave the name of Redcliffe House. As soon as spring came round Peary, who, under the care of his wife, had completely recovered, set off on a short sledge journey round Inglefield Gulf, on which Mrs Peary accompanied him.

It was not, however, until May 14 that he started on the long journey which was to be the crowning glory of his expedition. The first part of the journey was slow, for it took him a week to round Inglefield Gulf, during which time he discovered no fewer than thirty glaciers, ten of them of the first magnitude. On reaching the divide between Whale Sound and Kane Sea, he sent back two of the four men who had set out with him, and with Astrup as his only companion he pushed on north. On June 26 they reached the northern edge of the inland ice and, unable to proceed any further in that direction, they turned south-east in the hope that they would succeed in making the east coast of Greenland. Following the extreme limits of the ice-cap their journey brought them, on July 4, to a large indentation, which they named Independence Bay, in honour of the day. From the top of a tremendous cliff, 4000 feet high, they obtained a magnificent view of the land all round them, a view which left no doubt whatever in their minds that Greenland was an island.

Of the twenty-one dogs with which they had started only eight now survived, and as they were a full 450 miles from home, they had no choice but to make the best of their way back to Redcliffe House, which they reached without misadventure on August 6. The Kite arriving a few days later, Peary and his companions returned to America. Their party, however, had been reduced by one member, for the mineralogist, John Verhoeff, had been overtaken by a snowstorm when out hunting for specimens and had never been heard of again.

Peary’s experiences convinced him that there was a vast field for discovery in the north of Greenland, and he promptly set about raising the money for a third expedition by delivering lectures on his experiences. The result of his efforts was so entirely satisfactory that the autumn of 1893 saw him once again established in Whale Sound. On this occasion, however, he was able to find far more satisfactory quarters in Bowdoin Bay, an indentation on the north shore of Inglefield Gulf, where he erected Anniversary Lodge, a house which might truly be said to have the most modern improvements, in that it was actually lit by electric light supplied by a dynamo, for the working of which his steam launch was responsible.

On August 29 Astrup and three companions set out with the object of laying down caches of provisions for the great spring journey. Unfortunately, however, they had only deposited two caches when Astrup was taken ill, and they had to hurry home without properly locating the spots.

On September 12 an exceedingly interesting event took place, for Mrs Peary, who was again a member of the expedition, presented her husband with a daughter. To Miss Peary consequently belongs the honour of having been born in a higher latitude than any other civilised being.

It was on March 6, 1894, that Peary set out on his spring journey accompanied by seven men, twelve sledges and ninety-two dogs, and with sufficient provisions to last for six months. Unfortunately, however, the weather was by no means so favourable as it had been on his previous journey. The cold was intense, and his men were frost-bitten and his dogs frozen to death before his eyes. Sending back the greater number of his party, Peary pushed on pluckily with three companions, but circumstances were too much for him, and he had to confess himself beaten in the end. When he finally reached Bowdoin Bay, on April 15, only twenty-six dogs out of the original ninety-two remained to him.

The rest of the spring and the early part of the summer were spent in exploring and mapping out the unknown shores of Melville Bay. During the course of one of these journeys Peary reached Cape York, where he “unsnowed” two gigantic meteorites, the reports of which had attracted many previous explorers, none of whom, however, had managed to find them. Later on he succeeded in conveying them to America, as well as a third of such vast proportions that its removal entailed several months of hard work.

In August the Falcon came to fetch the explorers, but Peary was by no means satisfied with his year’s work, and though prudence undoubtedly demanded that he should return at once, seeing that he was short of provisions and fuel and that he had no means of knowing whether or not a ship would be able to visit him during the following year, with characteristic determination he proclaimed his intention of staying at Bowdoin Bay for another year with two volunteers, Hugh Lee and his coloured servant Henson. So, sending the rest of his party home, he set about making preparations for the winter. The greater part of the autumn was spent in gaining Eskimo recruits, in hunting and in attempting to find the caches laid down by Astrup. In the last of these enterprises Peary failed completely, but the hunting was very fairly successful, with the result that he and his two companions were able to spend the winter in comparative comfort. The spring journey was begun on April 2, 1895, the party consisting of Peary himself, his two volunteers, four Eskimos, and sixty-three dogs, drawing four sledges. The Eskimos did not prove of much assistance as one of them deserted with his outfit on the third day, while, a little later, Peary had to send back the remaining three. With Lee and Henson he now pushed on in the face of appalling difficulties. Snow-storms raged around them, obliterating their landmarks and so concealing their cache of pemmican that it was nowhere to be found. Lee was frost-bitten, the dogs died one after another, and game was conspicuous by its absence, yet Peary persevered and, by dint of almost superhuman efforts, he arrived within a short distance of Independence Bay early in May. Here he was so fortunate as to kill ten musk-oxen, but no other game of any kind was to be found, and they now found themselves under the necessity of rushing back to the camp with all possible despatch. They had only nine dogs left and food for seventeen days, but by going on short rations and making forced marches they succeeded in winning their desperate race against starvation. They were only in the nick of time, however, for when they reached Bowdoin Bay, on June 25, they had eaten their last scrap of food, while only one dog remained to them out of the sixty-five with which they had started. The Kite calling for them later in the summer, they reached Newfoundland in September after one of the most hazardous journeys on record.