Explorers and Travellers

Even if Hayes’s sight of the Open Polar Sea proved visionary, and certain unskilled observations failed of verification, yet his adventurous voyage was not barren of geographical results. He was the first civilized man to land on the shores of Ellesmere Land, along the coasts of which, between the seventy-seventh and seventy-eighth parallels, he made important discoveries; while farther to the northward, Hayes Sound, Bache Island, and other unknown lands and waters were added to our maps through his strenuous exertions.

Breaking out his schooner on July 10, 1861, an unprecedentedly early date for an Arctic ship, he quickly decided that he could hope for no further northing in a sailing vessel. However, he crossed the strait to the unvisited shores of Ellesmere Land, where he made such an examination of the coast as was practicable, and then turned his face homeward.

Hayes was fully alive to the absolute necessity of steam-power for complete Arctic success, but strictly limited means obliged him to go in a sailing vessel or not at all. He plainly foresaw the magnificent success awaiting the first expedition that should carry steam-power into Smith Sound, and full of dreams of future Arctic work he impatiently returned to the United States. It was not to be. Civil war raged, and the country called its loyal sons to arms. Hayes was not the man to falter at such a juncture. He at once tendered his schooner to the government for such use as was possible, and volunteered for the war, where his activity as the head of a great war hospital taxed to the utmost the mental and physical powers which had so long been occupied in arduous efforts to solve the riddle of the ice-free sea.

Hayes visited Greenland a third time, in 1869, with the Arctic artist, William Bradford, in the steam-sealer Panther. Arctic scenery was their quest, and so they visited the fiord of Sermitsialik, where the inland ice, which covers the greater part of Greenland, pushes down into the sea as an enormous glacier, with a front two and a half miles wide.

Here Hayes witnessed the birth of an iceberg, of which he says: “It would be impossible for mere words alone to convey an adequate idea of the action of this new-born child of the Arctic frosts. Think of a solid block of ice, a third of a mile deep, and more than half a mile in lateral diameter, hurled like a mere toy away into the water, and set to rolling to and fro by the impetus of the act. Picture this and you will have an image of power not to be seen by the action of any other forces upon the earth. The disturbance of the water was inconceivably fine. Waves of enormous magnitude were rolled up with great violence against the glacier, covering it with spray; and billows came tearing down the fiord, their progress marked by the crackling and crumbling ice which was everywhere in a state of the wildest agitation for the space of several miles.”

The famous mine of cryolite, the only valuable mineral deposit in Greenland; the Hope Sanderson of John Davis’s great voyage of 1587, with its lofty crest and innumerable flocks of wildfowl; Tessuissak, the most northerly settlement of Greenland; Duck Islands, the haunts of the eider, and the chosen rendezvous of ice-stayed whalers; Devil’s Thumb, the great, wonderful pillar, to the base of which Hayes struggled up thirteen hundred feet above the ice-covered sea, and Sabine Island, all saw the Panther, in its pleasure-seeking journey. If no geographical results sprang from this voyage, it had a literary outcome in Hayes’s book, “The Land of Desolation,” and in a series of detached sketches, which in beauty and interest are unsurpassed as regards life in Danish Greenland.

Hayes died in New York City, December 17, 1881. To the last he maintained a lively interest in Arctic exploration, and ever and again he favored polar research, always with an alternative scheme of his old harbor, Foulke fiord, as the base of operations. He resented the appellation “Great Frozen Sea” as properly characterizing the Arctic Ocean to the north of Greenland, and to the last held fast to the ideal of his youth, the belief of his manhood, “The Open Polar Sea.”

XI

CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,

And the North Pole

Among the many exploring expeditions that have crossed the Arctic Circle with the sole view of reaching the North Pole, one only has sailed entirely under the auspices of the United States. This expedition was commanded neither by an officer of one of the twin military services nor by a sailor of the merchant marine, but its control was intrusted to a born Arctic explorer, Charles Francis Hall. Born in 1821, in Rochester, N. H., Hall early quitted his native hills for the freer fields of the West, as the Ohio Valley was then called, and later settled in Cincinnati. There was ever a spirit of change in him, and as years rolled on he passed from blacksmith to journalist, from stationer to engraver. Through all these changes of trades he held fast to one fancy, which in time became the dominating element of his eventful career: in early youth, fascinated with books of travel relating to exploration in the icy zones, he eagerly improved every opportunity to increase his Arctic library, which steadily grew despite his very limited resources. His interest in the fate of Franklin was so intense that he followed with impatience the slow and uncertain efforts for the relief of the lost explorer. Not content with mere sympathy he also planned an American search, to be conducted in Her Majesty’s ship Resolute. Learning in 1859 that this Arctic ship was laid up and dismantled he originated a petition asking that it be loaned for such purpose. The return of McClintock with definite news of the death of Franklin, and the retreat and loss of his expeditionary force, put an end to the petition. Hall, however, despite the admirable and convincing report of McClintock, persisted in the belief that some members of Franklin’s crew were yet alive, and he determined to solve the problem by visiting King William Land, the scene of the final disaster. He issued circulars asking public aid, diligently sought out whalers and explorers who could give him their personal experiences, and finally determined that he must go and live with the Esquimaux, and, conforming to their modes of travel and existence, work out his Arctic problem on new lines.

The inauguration of the plan presented difficulties, for Hall was without means; but his persistent action created confidence, and the modest outfit for the voyage was procured through friendly contributions, while passage on a whaler for himself and baggage was tendered.

On July 30, 1860, with a whaleboat and scanty supplies, Hall landed alone on the west coast of Davis Strait, in Frobisher Bay. His base of operations was Rescue Harbor, 63° N., 65° W., whence he made a series of sledge journeys during the two years passed in this region. He re-examined the coasts visited by Frobisher in his eventful voyages of 1575 to 1579, and found the famous gold mine on Meta Incognita, whence 1,300 tons of ore were carried to England, where, as the chronicles relate, “in the melting and refining 16 tonnes whereof, proceeded 210 ounces of fine silver mixed with gold.”

An extensive collection of relics of Frobisher’s expedition was made, which later was given to the Royal Geographical Society. The expedition of Hall was mainly fruitful in training him for other Arctic work, for though his knowledge was self-acquired and instruments imperfect, yet his indefatigable industry and practice in scientific observations made him a reliable observer by the time of his return. It may be added that his careful and detailed description of the habits and life of the Esquimaux of the west coast of Davis Strait are of decided value from his rigid truthfulness, which caused him to record what he saw without exaggeration.

Hall’s success in obtaining so many relics of Frobisher’s voyage of three centuries previous, and the fact that the Esquimaux yet had traditionary knowledge of that voyage, encouraged Hall and his friends to a confident belief that a voyage to the shores of King William Land would result in the discovery of records, relics, possibly survivors, and in any event rescue the story of the retreat of Crozier from oblivion by hearing it from Esquimau eye-witnesses.

Future search operations were to be promoted through his Esquimau followers, commonly known as Joe and Hannah, who returned with him to the United States, and further, Hall relied upon his knowledge of the Esquimau language, in which he had acquired considerable facility during his long sojourn with them.

Hall’s return was in 1862, and in 1864 he was ready for his second voyage. On August 20th he was landed, with his two natives, a whaleboat, tent, and a moderate amount of provisions, on Depot Island, in the extreme northern part of Hudson Bay, in 63° 47´ N., 90° W., where Hall began his life and quest that were to last five weary years.

Preliminary autumnal journeys extended his knowledge, but they were marked by no definite progress, and the summer of 1864 was spent by the natives in securing game for the coming winter, thus postponing Hall’s chances of a westward sledge-trip to King William Land yet another year. Despairing of assistance from natives near the whaling rendezvous, Hall decided to make his winter-quarters in Repulse Bay, at Fort Hope, 60° 32´ N., 87° W., occupied, 1846-47, by the famous explorer, Dr. Rae. Here he hoped to secure the friendship of the neighboring Esquimaux and lay up stores of game for the final expedition, and there he wintered in 1865-66, during which he secured about one hundred and fifty reindeer, some salmon, and ptarmigan. With returning spring the Esquimaux promised to make the journey, and with quite a party and several dog-sledges Hall’s heart was full of joy and expectation as they moved northward across Rae Peninsula, on March 30, 1866. His discouragements commenced with the long halts and frequent detours for hunts, and his disappointment was complete when the natives decided to turn back from Cape Weynton, 68° N., 89° W., after having, in twenty-eight days, only travelled as far with dogs as Rae had gone on foot in five days. Hall simply records: “My King William party is ended for the present; disappointed but not discouraged.”

The journey and time were not fruitless, for near Cape Weynton he fell in with four strange Esquimaux, who gave him most valuable information as to the subject nearest his heart. They related that some of their people had visited the search ships and had seen Franklin. What was more to the point, they produced a considerable number of articles that had once belonged to members of Franklin’s party. The most important were silver articles, such as spoons, forks, etc., which bore the crest of Franklin and other officers of the lost expedition. These veritable evidences of the passage of Crozier and others of Franklin’s expedition through this region were fortunately secured by Hall, and were later supplemented by many others.

Unable to obtain Esquimau assistance the following year, Hall made journeys here and there wherever it was possible; one, in February, 1867, to Igloolik, the winter-quarters of Parry in 1822, on Boothia Felix Land, and a second, in 1868, to the Strait of Fury and Hekla, discovered by Parry in 1825; furthermore, he surveyed the northwest coast of Melville Peninsula, and filled in the broken line of the Admiralty chart for the northwest of that peninsula.

Visiting whalers urged on Hall the impossibility of succeeding in reaching King William Land by aid of natives, and more than one captain offered to carry him and his party back to the United States. Never despairing of final success, Hall determined to pass another winter at Fort Hope, Repulse Bay. Here, learning by experience, and acquiring food supplies during the winter, he succeeded, in March, 1869, in again starting westward with ten Esquimaux – men, women, and children – with well-loaded dog-sledges. Progress was slow and delays frequent, but still the journey was continued.

Their course from Repulse Bay lay overland, by nearly connecting lakes and rivers, across Rae Peninsula to Committee Bay, thence by another similar overland route over the south end of Boothia Felix Land, to James Ross Strait, where King William Land lies some sixty miles to the west.

Hall, singularly enough, was never able to appreciate the attitude of the natives in making such a long, dangerous journey merely to please him, for he quaintly complains that the Esquimaux had no appreciation of his mission and continually lost valuable time by stopping to smoke and talk. They now objected to go west of Pelly Bay, but by persuasion proceeded to Simpson Island, 68° 30´ N., 91° 30´ W., where a successful hunt for musk-oxen so restored their spirits that they went on.

At Point Ackland, on the eastern shore of James Ross Strait, Hall fortunately fell in with natives, with whom he remained nine days, and from whom he obtained important information. In-nook-poo-zhee-jook proved to be the chief man of the party, and from him and others were purchased relics, such as silver spoons, plain and with the crest of Franklin. Hall was told that these articles came from a large island where a great many white men died, and that five white men were buried on an island known to the chief. This Esquimau finally agreed to accompany Hall and guided him direct across James Ross Strait to a group of small islets to the east of King William Land, where, on Todd Island, part of a human thigh-bone was found; snow covering the ground to such a depth as to make thorough search impossible without long delay.

On May 12, 1869, Hall had the supreme pleasure of putting foot on King William Land, the object and end of his five years’ life among the Esquimaux. The only tangible result of the search thereon was the discovery of a human skeleton, and he reluctantly set out on his return. Esquimaux were fallen in with in Pelly Bay, 68° 30´ N., 90° 30´ W., and an old man, Tungnuk, on inquiry regarding Franklin relics in their possession, told Hall that the natives had found a ship beset near Ki-ki-tuk, King William Land, and that in getting wood out of it they made a hole in the ship, which soon after sank. Ko-big, another native, said that all the white men perished, except two at Ki-ki-tuk, whose fate was unknown.

Hall felt satisfied, from the stories of the Esquimaux and other evidences, that he was able to determine the fate of seventy-nine out of the one hundred and five men of Crozier’s party, which retreated in 1848 from the abandoned ships. The Esquimaux told him that Crozier, Franklin’s second in command, had passed near their huts; that he had a gun in his hand and a telescope around his neck, and that his men were dragging two boats. Crozier told the natives that they were going to Repulse Bay. The Esquimaux admitted that they had deserted Crozier owing to the fact that his party was in a starving condition and their food was scarce.

As far as Hall could make out, Crozier, late in July, 1848, passed down the west coast of King William Land with forty men dragging two sledges, and near Cape Herschel fell in with four Esquimaux families, who, after communicating with Crozier, fled from the starving party during the night. From native accounts Hall was also able to enumerate in detail the points at which the retreating party had died and been buried.

Among other relics collected by Hall were portions of one of the boats, an oak sledge-runner, a chronometer box with the Queen’s broad arrow engraved thereon, Franklin’s mahogany writing-desk, and many pieces of silver, forks, spoons, knives, and parts of watches. It was claimed by the natives that one of Franklin’s ships made the northwest passage with five men on board, and in the spring of 1849 was found by them near O’Reilly Island (68° 30´ N., 99° W.).

Hall had now passed five years among the Esquimaux, in which time he had made sledge journeys aggregating more than three thousand miles; acquired a thorough knowledge of the language and methods of life of the natives, and proved the possibility of a white man living the same life and making the same sledge journeys as the natives; but at the same time he became conscious that no very extended sledge-work could be done by Esquimau aid alone. His five years of arduous Arctic life ended in 1869 by his returning home on an American whaler, bringing with him his faithful Esquimaux, Joe and Hannah.

Hall’s return to the United States was simply, however, to pursue another and greater voyage, in which he believed he would be able to reach the North Pole.

After strenuous efforts he succeeded in interesting the President, the Cabinet, and a large number of Congressmen in his project, and on July 12, 1870, Congress appropriated $50,000 for the purpose of the expedition; authorized the employment of any suitable vessel in the navy, and provided that the National Academy of Sciences should prescribe the scope of the scientific observations. An old tug of nearly four hundred tons burden, rechristened under the name of Polaris, was selected, overhauled, and strengthened.

Hall sailed from New York June 29th, the party consisting of Captain Buddington, sailing-master; Dr. Emil Bessel, chief of the scientific staff; R. W. D. Bryan, astronomer; Sergeant Frederick Meyer, Signal Corps, meteorologist; seven petty officers, and a crew of fourteen, together with his faithful servants, Joe and Hannah.

The Polaris was provisioned and equipped for an absence of two and a half years, and her voyage was destined to be over the route made famous by the expeditions of Kane and Hayes, through Davis Strait and northward along the west coast of Greenland, although Hall was at first uncertain whether he would not enter Jones’s Sound, instead of Smith’s Strait. The usual visits to the Greenland ports were made, with resulting stores of furs, dogs, sledges, and other paraphernalia for exploration in the far North. To this point the expedition was convoyed by the man-of-war Congress, which bade the Polaris Godspeed as she left Godhaven on her lonely journey.

Hans Hendrick, the Esquimau dog traveller, whose services with Kane and Hayes commended him to Hall, accompanied the expedition with his wife and children. It was a strange meeting between Morton, the second mate, and Hans, the Esquimau, who, twenty years before, as subordinates of Kane, had made together the memorable sledge journey from Rensselaer Harbor, along the Humboldt Glacier, to Cape Constitution.

The Polaris was favored by an unusually open sea; Melville Bay was crossed in forty-eight hours and the “North Water” beyond was so free of ice that the Polaris kept her way unchecked until she reached Hakluyt Island; even here the ice-pack was so open that the Polaris easily forced her way. Littleton Island was passed on the evening of August 27, 1870, and later, crossing the parallel of Rensselaer Harbor, the Polaris attained a higher latitude than any former vessel on this route. Kane Sea and Kennedy Channel proved equally free of ice, so that the Polaris, steaming uninterruptedly northward, entered the Arctic Ocean, hitherto inaccessible, where she was finally stopped by an impenetrable pack, in 82° 26´ N. This point was more than two hundred miles directly north of the farthest reached by Kane’s vessel, the Advance. From this vantage-ground it was seen that the eastern coast-line of Grinnell Land extended somewhat farther to the north before turning to the west, and that, on the other hand, the coast of Northern Greenland trended very nearly eastward. Strenuous, though unavailing, efforts were made to push the Polaris further northward; failing this, attempts were then made to find a safe harbor to the eastward, but none was accessible. In the meantime the main ice-pack of the Arctic Ocean, setting southward to its normal position, carried the Polaris steadily to the south, through Robinson Channel, a distance of nearly fifty miles, and nearly caused her destruction by forcing her on the Greenland coast. Fortunately the pack opened somewhat, so that the vessel was enabled to change her position and secure safe anchorage. This place, later named Thank God Harbor, in 81° 37´ N., 61° 44´ W., was sheltered by a bold cape to the north, while the Polaris was protected from the polar pack by an immense ice-floe, called Providence Berg. This enormous floe-berg, grounded in a hundred fathoms of water, was by direct measurement four hundred and fifty feet long, three hundred feet broad, and towered sixty feet above the level of the sea.

Preparations were at once made to put the crew in winter-quarters, and on shore an observatory was built for scientific purposes. To the surprise and delight of the party, seals proved to be quite abundant, and a small herd of musk-oxen was found, the first of these animals ever seen on the west coast of Greenland.

Leaving his chief of the scientific staff and his sailing-master to their respective duties, Hall decided on a preliminary sledge journey in order to determine the best route for his contemplated journey of the next spring toward the pole. A heavy fall of snow insured good sledging and enabled him to leave Thank God Harbor on October 10th, he being accompanied by the first mate, Chester, the Esquimaux, Joe and Hans Hendrick, with two dog-sledges and fourteen dogs. In a journey of six days he attained Cape Brevoort, in 82° N., on the north side of Newman Bay, a considerable distance to the southward, however, of the point reached by the Polaris in the Arctic Ocean. In a despatch written at this point, Hall says, “From Cape Brevoort we can see land extending on the west side of the strait to the north, a distance of about seventy miles, thus making land, as far as we can discover, about 83° 5´ N.” To illustrate the accuracy of Hall’s judgment and his freedom from making extravagant claims, it may be stated that the detailed surveys of the British Arctic expedition of 1876 show the most northerly point on the east coast of Grinnell Land, Cape Joseph Henry, which possibly could be seen by Hall, was in 82° 55´, or within ten miles of the position assigned it from a distance of seventy miles.

Hall returned to the Polaris on October 24th, speaking most encouragingly of his prospects and planning another sledge journey for the autumn. Within an hour, however, he was taken violently ill, and upon examination, Dr. Bessels announced that he had been stricken with apoplexy, that his left side was paralyzed, and that his sickness might prove fatal. After an illness, with delirium, for several days, he improved materially, and was even able, through his clerk, to arrange the records of his late sledge journey, but a recurrence of the attack caused his death, on November 8, 1871.

The death of Hall left the expedition without a head. However, Captain Buddington, the sailing-master, and Dr. Bessels, the chief of the scientific staff, signed an agreement to do all in their power to fulfil the ultimate object of Hall’s ambition. Desultory efforts to go northward by boat were made without success the following year, and the only expedition which had definite result was one on foot by Sergeant Meyer, of the Signal Corps of the United States Army, during which he reached Repulse Harbor, 82° 9´ N., on the shores of the frozen Polar Sea, at that time the most northerly land ever attained.

The future of the Polaris expedition does not strictly pertain to Hall. However, the winter was marked by a series of valuable physical observations, made by Dr. Bessels and Mr. Bryan, the astronomer. In August, 1872, it was decided to return to the United States. Pushed into an impenetrable pack, anchored to a floe, the Polaris drifted with the main ice-pack down Kennedy Channel, through Kane Sea, and into Smith Sound, where, on October 15, 1872, off Northumberland Island, the pack was disrupted by a violent gale, which freed the Polaris. Part of her crew, left upon the ice-pack, experienced the horrors of a mid-winter drift southward of thirteen hundred miles, and were picked up off the coast of Labrador by the sealer Tigress, in the spring of 1872. The Polaris drifted to land in Lifeboat Cove, near Littleton Island, where the party built winter-quarters on shore, known as Polaris House. In the succeeding summer they built boats from the remains of their ship, by means of which they reached Cape York, where their contemplated journey across Melville Bay was rendered unnecessary by falling in with the whaler Ravenscraig, which took them to England.

The geographical results of Hall’s last expedition were extensive and valuable. Not only was the Polaris navigated to the highest point then ever attained by a vessel, but the very shores of the Polar Sea were visited and explored. Hall carried northward and completed the exploration of Kennedy Channel; outlined the coast of Hall Basin and Robinson Channel; extended Grinnell Land northward nearly two degrees of latitude to practically its extreme limit; added materially to the northern limits of Greenland, and charted a very extensive portion of its northern coast. Unfortunately for the general credit of the expedition, the accurate observations and conservative estimates of Hall were not adhered to, and in their stead were published, under government auspices, a chart of Hall’s discoveries which proved misleading in many of its details, extravagant and unreliable in its claims of new northern lands.