Explorers and Travellers

The fidelity, accuracy, and importance of Hall’s Arctic work is recognized, especially by his American and British successors in Smith Sound. Nares, in his official report to Parliament, states that the east coast-line of Grinnell Land agreed “so well with Hall’s description that it was impossible to mistake their identity. Their bearing also, although differing upward of thirty degrees from those of the published chart, agreed precisely with his published report.” Thus Hall merited the commemorative inscription on the brass tablet which the British polar expedition of 1875, with a generous appreciativeness creditable to its own brave men, erected to Hall’s memory over his lonely northern grave. It recognizes Hall as one “who sacrificed his life in the advancement of science,” and further recites that they, “following in his footsteps, have profited by his experience.”

XII

GEORGE WASHINGTON DE LONG,

And the Siberian Arctic Ocean

Of all the routes followed by explorers attempting to extend northward our knowledge of unknown lands, there is one which, more than all others, seems to have been closed by nature to the daring enterprise of man. While successful voyages to the northward of America, and along the meridian of Spitzbergen, have been of frequent occurrence, yet it has been the fortune of one expedition only to penetrate the vast ice-pack that covers the Arctic Ocean to the north of Siberia, and give an account thereof.

This expedition, organized through the munificence of James Gordon Bennett, Jr., and known to the world as the Jeannette Expedition, was commanded by De Long, then a lieutenant-commander of the United States Navy.

George Washington De Long was born in New York City, March 22, 1844, and entered the United States Navy, by graduation from the Naval Academy, in 1865. He rose to be a lieutenant-commander and rendered ordinary naval service until 1873, when special duty fell to his lot which turned his thoughts to Arctic research.

The rescue of the drift party of the Polaris naturally caused great alarm as to the safety of the remainder of her crew, and with the despatch of the Tigress into the waters of Smith Sound, came orders for the Juniata, to which De Long was attached, to visit the coasts of western Greenland for additional search for the missing explorers. The Juniata proceeded to Upernivik, as far as it was deemed safe for the man-of-war to venture, but its brave and sagacious commander, Captain D. L. Braine, of the Navy, thought it most necessary to search the fast inshore ice of Melville Bay, along which he correctly surmised they would conduct a retreat by boats. For this duty – novel, hazardous, and difficult – De Long promptly volunteered. For this dangerous trip the steam-launch Little Juniata, some 32 feet long and 8 wide, was selected. Her crew consisted of Lieutenant Chipp, Ensign May, ice-pilot Dodge, who had served with Hayes, and four others, while she was equipped and provisioned for sixty days. In this small craft De Long, following the fast ice, reached a point immediately off Cape York, when he was struck by a violent gale. The sea was so heavy that his only chance of safety lay in carrying sail, steam being useless, to keep the boat under control. The violence of the wind disrupted the inshore ice, threatening the launch continually; owing to fog the presence of immense icebergs made navigation more dangerous than ever; high seas constantly broke over her, soaking everything on board and harassing the crew with the imminent danger of swamping. Thirty hours the gale lasted, leaving the party in the last stages of exhaustion, wet to the skin and benumbed with cold, with closed floes to the north and east and the dangerous “middle pack” to the west. Under these conditions De Long reluctantly abandoned the search and returned.

This brief experience created an interest in northern work which never abated, and as a result, De Long, the voyage ended, approached James Gordon Bennett, Jr., who was favorable to his projects. Nothing, however, was done until November, 1876, after the return of the Nares’s expedition, when the exploration was decided on; but no vessel could be procured. Eventually Sir Allen Young, an Arctic explorer of note, was persuaded to sell the Pandora, in which he had twice made polar voyages.

The ship was, by Act of Congress, given an American register under the name of Jeannette, strengthened under naval supervision, and put in commission under the orders and instructions of the Secretary of the Navy, with full discipline in force; but the expense of the expedition – repairs, equipment, and pay – was met by Bennett.

On July 8, 1879, the Jeannette sailed from San Francisco, commanded by De Long, and officered by Lieutenant Chipp, Master Danenhower, Chief Engineer Melville, Doctor Ambler, an ice-pilot, two scientists, twenty-four petty officers and men. The route selected by De Long was via Behring Strait, apparently under the impression that Wrangel Land was continental in extent, an idea supported by the German geographer Petermann, whose advice De Long had sought, and along the shores of which coursed the northern current that swept forever out of the vision of man such whalers as were fully beset by the ice-pack north of Asia.

Before pursuing his own exploration De Long, in compliance with instructions from the Navy Department, made search for the Vega, in which ship Nordenskiold, circumnavigating Europe and Asia, had wintered at Cape Serdze Kamen, in 67° 12´ N. latitude, on the northwestern coast of Asia. On reaching this point he learned that the Vega had comfortably wintered and had passed south, thus confirming the report he had gained from the natives at St. Lawrence Bay.

They at once steamed northward, thankful, as De Long records, “that Nordenskiold was safe, and we might proceed on our way toward Wrangel Land.” Ice was soon fallen in with, and, after preliminary efforts to proceed directly to the north, which impenetrable floes prevented, De Long, on September 5, 1879, “got up a full head of steam and entered the pack through the best-looking lead in the general direction of Herald Island,” which was plainly visible at a distance of forty miles.

It was De Long’s intention on leaving San Francisco to explore this land the first winter, but completely beset by heavy floes, in 71° 35´ N. latitude, 175° W. longitude, his ship never escaped. In hopes that information of value might be had from a visit to Herald Island, an unsuccessful attempt was made to reach it by dog-sledge over the fast-cementing pack, but the party was turned back by impassable leads.

It soon became evident that the Jeannette was drifting steadily with the entire pack. First, the direction was to the north, taking the ship out of sight of Herald Island, but next it changed to the southwest, bringing that land again in view. While the drift was by a devious and very irregular course, yet it was in the general direction of northwest, from 71° 35´ N., and 175° W., at besetment, to 71° 15´ N., and 155° E., when the ship was finally crushed by the pack. In investigating the cause of the drift, De Long says: “As to the currents in this part of the Arctic Ocean, I think our drift is demonstrating that they are the local creation of the wind for the time being. As our drift in resulting direction has been northwest since our besetment, so the greater amount of wind has been from the southeast; our short and irregular side-drift east and west, and occasionally to south, being due to correspondingly short and irregular winds from northwest or east.”

The party settled down to their regular life, which though very monotonous soon had an element of excitement and danger introduced that never passed away in entirety. This was the threatened disruption of the pack, which, seemingly without cause, would change its form and position with such suddenness and violence as to endanger the safety of the ship. On November 13, 1879, without warning, the pack separated on a line with the ship’s keel, the port snow-wall being carried with the pack one hundred and fifty feet away, leaving open water, that fortunately froze over before other violent changes took place.

De Long writes: “This steady strain is fearful; seemingly we are not secure for a moment… Living over a powder-mill, waiting for an explosion, would be a similar mode of existence… I sleep with my clothes on, and start up anxiously at every crack … of the ship’s frame.”

Almost by intervention of Providence, as it seemed, the Jeannette escaped destruction from these violent disruptions, which, except that of January 19, 1880, left her, during the first winter, comparatively unharmed. On that day, with terrible groaning and grinding, the main pack was fearfully agitated; no large openings were seen and the ice acted as though its entire periphery was subjected to steady and irresistible pressure, which being toward the centre caused the whole surface to buckle up irregularly. Enormous pieces of ice piling up under the stern of the Jeannette brought a tremendous longitudinal pressure on the ship and broke her fore-foot, which caused a serious leak. It was only through the indomitable energy and great professional skill of Melville that the leak was got under control, and later cared for, without taxing greatly their precious stock of fuel.

The winter passed with all in health save Danenhower, whose eyes becoming diseased necessitated several operations and permanently placed him off duty for the voyage. The summer of 1880 came, found them fast embedded in the ice, and went without release. Autumn passed, winter came, and even the opening year of 1881 found them with conditions unchanged, as De Long recites: “A disabled and leaking ship, a seriously sick officer, an uneasy and terrible pack, constantly diminishing coal-pile and provisions, and far from the Siberian coast.” A break came, however, with the discovery of new land in May, along the north coast of which the Jeannette drifted slowly. On May 31st a party was sent to examine the island, for such it proved to be, Melville being in command, as Chipp was then on the sick-list. Melville, despite the open condition of the ice, succeeded in landing on June 3, 1881, his third day out. He was obliged to carry his instruments and provisions, at the risk of his life, through the moving pack. It proved to be a desolate, ice-capped, rocky islet, almost destitute of vegetation and inhabited only by dovekies, who nested in the inaccessible cliffs adjoining the discharging glaciers. Another island appearing, De Long named the two; Jeannette, in 76° 47´ N., 159° E., and Henrietta, in 77° 08´ N., 158° E.

The end of the besetment came at last. On June 12, 1881, in 77° 15´ N., 155° E., the pack showed signs of great pressure, the immense floes seeming to be alive in their motion, and despite all efforts the Jeannette was terribly nipped, her bows being thrown high in air. It was evident that escape was hardly possible. Steps were immediately taken to abandon ship, and everything of value or use was speedily withdrawn, with boats, sledges, etc., to a safe distance. Early the next morning the ice opened a little, and the Jeannette immediately sank, with colors flying, in thirty-eight fathoms of water.

De Long and his party thus found themselves adrift in the Polar Sea, more than three hundred miles from the nearest point of the mainland of Asia, and about one hundred and fifty miles from the New Siberian Islands. While the condition of affairs seemed desperate, De Long never despaired. Lieutenant Danenhower being disabled, and Chipp sick, De Long’s main dependence was in his chief engineer, Melville, who was well, strong, energetic, and fertile in expedients.

They had five boats (two very small), nine sleds, provisions for sixty days, ammunition, instruments and records; a terrible load for the party, as five men were off duty, and several others too weak to do their share in the drag-ropes. There remained, however, twenty dogs, whose utility was questionable, as they soon consumed more in weight than they ever hauled. The ice was very rough, large openings were frequent, snow often impeded progress, roads had to be made, and on occasion all the stores and men had to be ferried across wide water-lanes. At the beginning there was so much baggage that seven separate loads were hauled, causing the men to travel thirteen times over the same road, but this was soon unnecessary, as weights were gradually reduced.

To add to De Long’s discouragement he discovered that they were under the influence of a northwest drift, and after six days’ travel due south were twenty-eight miles further north than when the ship sunk. He refrained from discouraging the men by this information, but changing his course to the southwest, got out of the drift.

On July 11th land was discovered, and turning toward it the shipwrecked and exhausted men reached it July 28, 1881; it was in 76° 38´ N., 148° E., and was called Bennett Island. Landing was effected by ferrying and crossing heavy, fast-moving floes, and the danger was greatly enhanced by the low water, which made it extremely dangerous work to attain the surface of the overhanging ice-foot. The cliffs were alive with birds, which was a welcome change of diet, to the sick men especially. The island was quite mountainous, with several grass-covered valleys; a seam of coal was found and signs of considerable animal life.

Recuperated by their nine days’ rest, the party started south on August 8th, and landed on Thaddeus Island, of the New Siberian group, August 20, 1881. It is unnecessary to dwell on the dangers and hardships which this unprecedented journey entailed on the members of this party, which were met with fortitude, courage, and energy that made its successful issue one of the most notable efforts in the history of man, overcoming obstacles almost insurmountable.

This remarkable journey had been so far made alternately by sledge and boat, owing to the broken condition of the Polar pack; from Thaddeus Island, however, an open sea enabled them to proceed in boats, which were respectively commanded by De Long, Chipp, and Melville. On September 12th a severe storm separated the boats off the Lena Delta; Chipp with eight men were lost, while Melville, with nine others, reached a small village through one of the eastern mouths of the Lena.

De Long landed, in 77° 15´ N., 155° E., September 17th, with Dr. Ambler and twelve men, having been obliged to abandon his boat, owing to the shallowness of the river. He took with him the ship’s records, arms, ammunition, medicines, necessary camp equipments, and four days’ provisions, which were carried on the men’s shoulders. Fuel proved abundant, and Alexey, their interpreter, killed two deer, thus improving the situation. Retarded by the presence of sick men and by the weight of cumbersome records, they followed slowly southward the barren shores of the Lena, travelling through snow and over ice which broke readily. Their feet were soon in terrible condition, and eventually an ulcer on Ericksen’s foot rendered partial amputation necessary on September 29th. De Long then records the terrible situation: They were confronted by a tributary of the Lena which must freeze before they could cross, and as to Ericksen, if forced along, he could not recover, and “if I remained here and kept everybody with me, Ericksen’s days would be lengthened a little at the risk of our all dying from starvation.” Ice formed in a couple of days, and they proceeded, dragging Ericksen on a sled.

October 3d, food entirely failing, their dog was killed and cooked, giving them strength the following day to reach a deserted hut large enough to hold the party. Here they were storm-stayed two days; Ericksen dying, Alexey hunting unsuccessfully, the drifting snow and piercing cold – all these served to plunge the party into despair. De Long writes: “What, in God’s name, is going to become of us? – fourteen pounds of dog meat left and twenty-five miles to a possible settlement… Read the burial service and carried our departed shipmate’s body to the river, where he was buried.” Their last food was eaten October 7th, and nothing remained except old tea-leaves and two quarts of alcohol; but Alexey shot a ptarmigan, of which a thin soup was made.

On October 9th the exhausted condition of some of the men and an open, unfordable creek debarred further progress of the party as a whole. In this contingency De Long sent Nindermann and Noros ahead for relief, with orders to keep the west bank of the Lena until they reached a settlement. Later De Long advanced a mile and camped in a hole in the bank; Alexey killed four ptarmigans and the party resorted to their deer-skin clothing for subsistence, but without avail. The last entry in De Long’s diary, October 30, 1881, records all dead except Collins, who was dying, Ah Sam and Dr. Ambler, of whom no mention was made.

Noros and Nindermann, after a march of one hundred and twenty miles, reached Bulcour, which they found deserted. Seeking shelter in one of the vacant huts, they were discovered by a native, who took them to an adjacent encampment. The natives either did not understand Nindermann or were unwilling to go northward, for despite his incessant and urgent entreaties they carried the two seamen southward to Bulun, where they arrived on October 29th, and met Melville and his party.

This energetic officer, exhausting all practicable means, pushed his relief parties northward to the extremity of the Lena Delta, but without success. He reached the Arctic Ocean, recovered the log-books, chronometer, and other articles on November 14th, when a severe storm obliged him to abandon the search. Renewing his efforts, in March, 1882, he discovered, on the 23d of that month, the bodies of his companions.

An official inquiry as to the general conduct of the expedition caused the board of officers to express their opinion that the general personnel were entitled to great praise for their solidarity and cheerfulness, their constancy and endurance. The zeal, energy, and professional aptitude of Melville were noticed, and special commendation given to De Long for the high qualities displayed by him in the conduct of the expedition.

The scientific observations of the Jeannette expedition must be of considerable value, involving as they do hydrographic, magnetic, and meteorological observations over an extended portion of the earth’s surface previously unknown, and it appears surprising that after all these years they remain undiscussed.

In addition may be noted the importance of De Long’s hydrographic contributions, covering some fifty thousand square miles of polar ocean, which indicate with equal clearness the character of fifty thousand other square miles of area to the south, and thus prove the Siberian Arctic Ocean to be a shallow sea, dotted with islands.

The geographic results are represented in part by the attainment of the highest latitude ever reached in Asiatic seas, and in the discovery of Jeannette, Henrietta, and Bennett Islands. Discoveries, however, are both direct and indirect, and to positive results should be added successes of an inferential though negative character. Through De Long’s northwest drift the long-sought-for Wrangel Land shrank from its assumed dimensions as a continent, connecting, under the Petermann hypothesis, Asia with Greenland, to its reality – a small island.

It is to be said that this reduction of Wrangel Land into a little island doomed De Long’s expedition to certain failure and closed Behring Strait as a promising route to high latitudes; for the arctic canon of Parry yet obtains, that without a sheltering coast no vessel can hope to navigate safely the Polar Ocean.

With the march of time it is not to be expected that geographic problems connected with the vast ice-covered ocean to the north of Siberia will be left unsolved. These coming explorers may be more fortunate than was De Long, and while profiting by his experiences they will surpass his efforts, yet their successes cannot make greater demands on the courage and constancy of them and their subordinates than were shown by the gallant De Long and his associates in the fateful voyage of the Jeannette.

XIII

PAUL BELLONI DU CHAILLU,

Discoverer of the Dwarfs and Gorillas

Among the thousands of vigorous and adventurous men whom chance brought to light in foreign climes, but who by choice have cast their lot with America, by becoming citizens of the United States, there are few whose explorations and discoveries have excited more popular interest and discussion than have those of Du Chaillu, the discoverer, in modern times, of the dwarfs and the capturer of the gorilla.

Born in Paris, July 31, 1835, the early environments of Paul Belloni Du Chaillu fostered and forecast his taste for African exploration, for his father was one of the adventurous Frenchmen whose consular appointment and commercial enterprises led him to settle at the mouth of the Gaboon, on the west coast of Africa, where his distinguished son passed his boyhood. While young Du Chaillu was, doubtless, well grounded in ordinary sciences by his instructors, the learned Jesuit fathers, of Gaboon, yet apart from regular educational institutions he imbibed other wealth of learning by observation of the rich tropical world around him, and also through familiar intercourse with neighboring tribes acquired a knowledge of native tongues and craft, of savage habits and character, which insured his after-success in African exploration.

Commercial pursuits brought Du Chaillu to the United States, in 1852, when he was so strongly impressed by American institutions that he became a naturalized citizen of the United States.

Du Chaillu was brought prominently before the American public by a series of striking and interesting articles on the Gaboon country, which from their favorable reception strengthened his belief in the importance of thoroughly exploring certain portions of the west coast of Africa. The region selected for his investigations was under the burning sun of the equator, somewhat to the north of the Congo country, in the basins drained by the Muni, Ogowe, and Rembo Rivers, which, owing to difficulty of access, extreme heat, prevailing fevers, and deadly climate, were practically unknown. Between 1856 and 1859 Du Chaillu journeyed upward of eight thousand miles through this country, travelling on foot, with no white companion, and, with the aid of natives, cursorily explored nearly one hundred thousand square miles of virgin territory. Working with the ardent zeal of a naturalist, his enormous ornithological collection aggregated thousands of specimens, and in this collection alone he added some sixty new species of birds to the domain of science. Among the quadrupeds, he discovered no less than twenty new species, and among the most important animals brought to light were the very remarkable nest-building ape, with its unknown and its almost equally extraordinary brother the koo-loo-lamba, and his observations of the almost unknown gorilla were most interesting and valuable.

In ethnology he accumulated a number of invaluable native arms and implements, which now adorn the British Museum. Space fails in which to recite his intense sufferings, during these explorations, from semi-starvation, the wild beasts of the dense forests, the venomous reptiles of the river valleys, the attacks of ferocious ants, and other intolerable poisonous insects which infest the interior.

There are many interesting accounts of curious quadrupeds in Du Chaillu’s book, “Adventures in Equatorial Africa,” but none appeals more strongly to most readers than that of the gorilla. Traditions from antiquity, the relation of Hanno, the Carthaginian navigator of 350 B.C., set forth the existence of such an animal, but no white man had ever seen a gorilla, except Andrew Battell, early in the seventeenth century. Nearly ten years before the explorations of Du Chaillu the gorilla had been, however, brought to the notice of naturalists by Dr. Savage, of Boston, who had received a skull from the Rev. J. L. Wilson, an American missionary on the Gaboon.

From boyhood up Du Chaillu had heard from the natives of Gaboon fearful stories of the cunning, strength, and ferocity of this ape, which is the most dreaded animal on the west coast of Africa. For years he had longed for an opportunity to hunt the gorilla, and when he first saw its tracks, which threw his native hunters into alarm, he relates that his sensations were indescribable, his feelings so intense as to be painful, and his heart-throbs so violent that he actually feared the animal would be alarmed by them.