The Romance of Polar Exploration. G. Firth Scott
Midsummer, 1830, Second Mathematical Prize."
The presence of the medal identified the remains as being those of Lieutenant Irving of the Terror. As this was the only instance where identification was possible, Lieutenant Schwatka carefully and reverently gathered them together and carried them to New York, from whence they were forwarded to Edinburgh, Irving's native town. There they were accorded a public funeral on January 7, 1881.
CHAPTER IV THE VOYAGE OF THE POLARIS
Death of Captain Hall—Crew determine to Return—Are Frozen in—A Party take to the Ice and are Cast Away—They build themselves Snow Huts—They find some Seals—An Adventure with Bears—The Perils of the Spring—They sight the Tigress and are Saved—The Ship-Party's Story and Rescue.
The Government of the United States, in June 1871, despatched the Polaris to explore and survey the passage between Grinnel Land and Greenland, and also, if possible, to push on to the Pole.
The Polaris, under the command of Captain Hall, sailed from New York on June 29, 1871, with a crew of thirty-three, and provisioned for some years. She succeeded in passing through Smith's Sound and Robeson Channel, and on August 31 she had reached as high a latitude as 82° 11' N. Returning to the southward, she went into winter quarters; but on November 8 her captain was struck down with apoplexy. Upon his death all idea of going further to the North was abandoned, and, as soon as the spring of 1872 commenced, preparations were made to return to New York.
The ice was particularly heavy, however, and very slow progress was made when, by August, the Polaris became entangled with some big floes which checked her in every direction. On August 14, when off the entrance of Kennedy Channel, in latitude 80°, the ice closed round her and fixed her so firmly that every effort made by the crew to release her was without avail. A series of floes had closed one upon the other, and had so compressed themselves together, that all hope of extricating the Polaris until the ice itself broke up was reluctantly abandoned. The pack in which she was involved continued to slowly drift to the South until, two months after her capture, the ship had drifted in the ice to 78° 28' N. At this point a violent gale occurred, which resulted in the series of adventures for her crew that has made the voyage of the Polaris so notable.
As the gale increased in intensity, the huge field of heavy ice in which the vessel was imprisoned began to heave and grind in an alarming manner. The masses joined together by the force of earlier collisions broke asunder under the strain of the wind, but only to close in again with terrific force and crashing. Every time that separated portions of the pack came together with a crash, the ice around the vessel creaked and moved, and the Polaris herself strained in every timber under the trial.
A sudden parting asunder of the pack where she was encased liberated her for the moment. Freed from the grip of the ice, the force of the wind was more evident, and she heeled over to the gale as it caught her in the temporarily open water. Before she could right herself, the ice closed in again upon her sides. The rending and crashing which followed the "nip" convinced all on board that the vessel was too crushed ever to float again, and, while the floe held together and she was kept from foundering, the crew set about putting stores, tents, clothing, arms, and anything else they could lay hands on, over the side on to the ice. They feared that with the next split the vessel would be in the water again, and there was no doubt in any one's mind but that she would then sink like a stone. No one knew how long it might be before that split came, and in the meantime every one worked at the only means of saving their lives. Nineteen of the ship's company scrambled out on to the pack, and, as their comrades passed out the various stores and articles they were able to seize, those on the ice stacked them, as well as they could, on a massive hummock.
Through the wind and the cold they worked, neither pausing for rest nor refreshment. All around them the ice was heaving and grinding, and over them the cold northerly gale was blowing and driving great clouds of snow; but they worked on, knowing only too well that in every barrel of food they rolled into security was contained a week of life for them. The driving snow made it more and more difficult to see, until the air was almost dark. With fearful force the wind howled across the icy expanse, and those on the pack crouched for some shelter behind the stores they had piled up by the hummock, waiting till the gale should have exhausted its fury.
The faint sound of a cry came to them from the direction of the ship and they peered out through the gloom. Then a cry of despair broke from their lips—they forgot the force of the wind and the cold of the driving snow as they sprang from behind their shelter. The ice had parted again, and, down the long lane of open water which had been formed, the hull of the ship loomed as it swung away into the darkness.
Anxiously the castaways watched for the coming together again of the divided packs, in the hope that the Polaris would again be caught and held. Those who remained on board were equally anxious, for they knew the vessel must be leaking terribly, and to be left much longer in the open water meant that she would founder and they be drowned. A man ran to the rudder and tried to bring her round to the ice which glimmered through the snow-storm, but the rudder was damaged too much for steering and the ship drifted on. Soon it was obscured from those on the pack, and the truth of their position dawned on them. Whether the ship had foundered or not they did not know, but this was clear: they were adrift on an ice-pack which might at any moment split asunder and precipitate them into the freezing water, or, if it held together, carry them till they died of cold and starvation.
Either alternative was sufficiently gloomy to depress the spirits of the bravest; as the nineteen cowered behind their stack of provisions for shelter from the keen snow-filled wind, into the mind of each there came a grim determination to fight while there was an ounce of food in the casks or a vestige of ice to float them. In the morning, when the storm had abated and the air was clear, they emerged from their shelter and looked about for a sign of the vessel. Some of them clambered up on to the top of the highest hummocks so as to command a wider field of vision, but they saw no more than those who remained below. All around them was ice, piled in heaps, or stretching out in flat expanses; but always ice, as far as the eye could reach, and nowhere a vestige or a sign of the Polaris.
They gathered together round the heap of stores and looked at one another in silence, each one reading the other's thoughts and always finding them the same as his own. The ship had probably gone to the bottom, with all on board, as soon as she broke away from the ice. The packs had closed again over the spot where she had disappeared, so that there was no chance of any spars or timber floating to the surface and confirming their suspicions. Everything was under the ice, everything except the scanty supply of provisions that had been put overboard.
At length one man spoke. It was no use mincing matters, he told his comrades. They would do well to realise the position they were in, and, looking at it from the worst side, make the best of it and fight to the end. The vessel had gone, and all they had to keep them from starvation and death was the heap of stores and their own energy. There was no timber to build a raft, so that they could float if the ice broke up; there was no wood to waste on a fire. But as they had to keep afloat and warm if they were going to escape, he considered that first of all they should remove their stores to the thickest, heaviest ice they could find, and then set to work to build snow huts for shelter. Winter was coming on with its long spell of darkness, and there was no time to waste. It was every one's business to help one another and to do the best they could, working together and sharing whatever came, whether it was short rations or plenty.
The sentiments appealed to all the men, and they formed themselves into parties to carry out the scheme. Fortunately they had just passed one winter in the Arctic regions and knew, therefore, what was in front of them, and also how to carry out the building of snow huts and the other necessary makeshifts. A massive hummock, which apparently was too strong to be crushed, and solid enough to last through several summers without melting, was selected as the site of the encampment. The snow which had fallen during the gale was not quite hard enough for building huts at the moment, so while some of the party were overhauling