Harpers New Monthly Magazine

Vol. XCVII September, 1898 No. DLXXX

[pp. 499-521]

Portrait Frederick George Jackson
After a photograph by Lambert Weston and Son, Folkestone
Frederick G. Jackson

DAYS IN THE ARCTIC.

BY FREDERICK G. JACKSON.

[page 499] LIFE in the arctic is a serious matter, and one not to be lightly undertaken. Never to sleep in a bed for three years, or even in a bunk - such as our prisoners enjoy - is merely a bagatelle, as the floor and a reindeer-skin made a capital substitute. Looking back on the experience of a thousand days spent in the most northerly inhabited hut in the world - for our quarters were on the 80° N. lat .- I certainly think our greatest enemies were perpetual darkness and want of companionship.

For six men to be boxed up three years in a hut twenty feet long by twenty feet wide, and only seven feet high, never seeing [page 500] any other being nor hearing a scrap of news, is a trying existence, yet I can unhesitatingly say no jollier or happier little party ever lived in Northern latitudes. Four months of solid night every year has, however, a depressing effect, not only on the spirits, but on the appetite, and it also destroys sleep. Morning, noon, and night become unrecognizable, merged into one endless gloom, and but for the welcome advent of the moon once a month, when the sky was sufficiently clear for us to enjoy her rays, we lived in a blackness the dreariness of which is indescribable.

Our huts by moonlight in winter

As the schoolboy counts the days to the holidays, so we counted the hours till the return of the sun, and even as the first rays became visible our spirits rose, and existence altogether wore a different complexion. Then exercise became enjoyable, instead of that dreary daily trudge round a given circle in the dark: with the return of the light we felt new life and energy. And yet the climate of Franz-Josef Land, even in spring, would not suit all tastes ; for example, out of fifty-five days' sledging, ending in May, 1897, Mr. Albert Armitage and I enjoyed only thirteen and a half tolerably clear days! Driving snow, wind, and bitter cold were general; for, be it understood, in all these three years the thermometer never rose higher than eleven degrees above freezing-point, and seventy to eighty degrees below that point was quite common.

They say eels get used to skinning - well, we may have fairly got used to wind, mist, and snow - but we hardly liked it! I will describe an ordinary winter day's work, though - paradoxical, but true - the greater number of the days in the arctic are nights. About 8 A.M. we turned out of our blankets, and all had a good wash, and the man whose turn it was had a bath (one man had a bath each morning; the scarcity of water would not admit of more than this). Breakfast then followed,. consisting of porridge, tinned fish, fried bear-meat, and tea or coffee. The work of the day then began. The house was swept out (a duty usually performed by myself during the last twelve months), the breakfast things washed up, and other domestic duties performed. The dogs and pony too had to be fed, and the stable and dog-house cleaned out, and the animals exercised.

All then took the regular daily walk. This, unless there was a moon, was taken [page 501] round and round a circle on the floe, marked with small flag's, where we stumbled over the rough, hummocky ice through the mist and driving snow two or three hours each day.

This rather tread-mill-like exercise being completed, we all return to the hut, where we set to work upon the duties in hand-making tents, dog-harness, pony's snow-boots, weighing out provisions for sledging, and making ration-bags, etc.

In addition, our scientific observations are taken regularly. Throughout the first two winters meteorological observations were carried on two-hourly throughout the night and day, the party being divided into watches for the purpose.

The scene outside the hut is desolate and dreary in the extreme. To the north, behind the hut, the high basaltic cliffs with the steep talus running down are dimly discernible through the dense mist and falling snow. An occasional gust of wind still comes rushing along at irregular intervals - the expiring remains of a recent gale - and carrying a whirl of icy particles with it. All around else - where is an indefinite white expanse, from which here and there project ice-covered bowlders. The wind still moans in the cliffs above us. A short distance off the land the roars of ice-pressure proclaim the commotion there existing, now rumbling like distant thunder, now breaking forth into yells and shrieks as if a thousand fiends had suddenly been let loose, and then dying out in a shrill whistle. For a few moments all is still; and then those weird sounds continue.

Once a month we get the eagerly looked-for moon, which, if the sky is clear and the weather is calm, entirely alters the aspect of the landscape. Then the fantastically irregular surface of the great ice-floes, the frost-covered cliffs, and the surface of the external glaciers, silently and slowly flowing to the sea, are lighted up with a silvery brightness, and all is still and peaceful. Everything in life appears most cheery. Long runs on " ski" are taken; and should a bear make his appearance, and a chase ensue, the day is a red-letter one indeed. Unfortunately such days in Franz-Josef Land are of rare occurrence, and the more dreary weather which I have endeavored to describe is characteristic of the winter in this country.

At about 3 P.M. we knock off work for a few minutes and have a little tea and bread or ship-biscuit and butter, and [page 502] then resume our work until 7.30 P.M., when work ceases for the day, and we have dinner, consisting of dried soups, bearmeat, and pudding; after which every one follows his own devices-plays cards, smokes, or reads until about 11 P.M., when we turn in for the night.

breakfast in hut at Bell Island

Occasionally a bear-hunt would give us some diversion. I always allowed two or three dogs, which showed some aptitude for bear-hunting, to run loose during the winter, and had one dog, " Nimrod," tied to a rough kennel just outside the hut. These dogs would get on the track of a bear on the floe and set up a barking, " Nimrod " would take up the chorus, and thus let us know what was going on.

One of my men and I would then set off in chase with our rifles, and, guided by the cry of the dogs, stumble through the mist and darkness over the floes. After proceeding a mile or so, gradually the noise would become more and more distinct, and some small dark objects jumping around a large yellow one, from which proceed loud hisses and snarls, would appear in sight.

Nimrod on Bear Guard A dead bear

A halt is then called to enable us to recover our wind after a rough-and-tumble pursuit. The bear, in the mean time, has been engaged in making rushes at the dogs, one of whom, with his tail tucked between his legs, and looking as if he had seen things he would gladly forget, runs up to where we are standing.

A Bear Hunt

We then separate and advance from opposite points until within about ten yards of our game-my rule being to approach the animal until the outlines of his head could be distinctly made out. He appears to be a little undecided as to whether to charge us or to beat a retreat, but a dog, taking advantage of his indecision, and encouraged by our presence, [page 503] makes insolent remarks almost in his ear, and the bear dashes round to retaliate. At the same moment two shots ring out, and poor Mr. Bear rolls over dead.

One of us then returns to the hut to bring out a sledge party to haul him in. We drag him into a canvas hut, reserved for bear-skinning during the darkness, and remove his skin, and cut up the carcass into convenient joints. The dense atmosphere caused by the rising steam in the intensely cold air suggests a laundry in full swing.

As the end of the dark time approaches all becomes hurry and bustle in our little community. The hut becomes crowded up with sledges brought into it to be packed, and piles of equipment and rations in the course of being weighed out fill every available foot of space. Across the room a canvas and bamboo canoe is hung up to dry after being tarred - and many are the jokes and much the laughter when one of our heads comes in contact with its very sticky sides. The actual living space in our hut was about thirteen feet by twelve.

We have been working all through the winter at these sledging preparations, upon the careful completion of which so much depends. Weight and bulk are of the greatest consideration, and it is wonderful how weights accumulate by ounces, so that the utmost care must be exercised to select only the most necessary and indispensable articles, and to have the food rationed out in the smallest amounts; per day compatible with keeping - men health.

A Bear-hunt in the Polar Night

An amusing tale is told of. a very distinguished arctic discoverer who was said to have been found in his cabin weighing a pocket-handkerchief and debating whether he should take it with him sledging or not. But it is only by careful attention to weights that the good results can be attained - which the gentleman in question was one of the first to demonstrate.

Bringing back the Bear

Early in March sees us on our journey with our team of dogs and pony, and one man besides myself.

The temperature is about 35° below zero, the sky is misty and overcast, a stiff breeze is blowing which carries before it a cloud of snow as fine as flour, which penetrates everything. In the distance on our left the cold, white, ill-defined outlines of the glaciated country on the western side of the British Channel are dimly visible.

I lead the way with "Brownie" (our pony) and her sledges, and Mr. Armitage follows in my tracks with the dog team.

The surface; is much hummocked in [page 504] consequence of the repeated breaking up of the light ice of the channel in the autumn before; and the snow lies deep and soft over the trappy holes and crevices it has caused.

The pony has been going badly, owing to illness caused by a surfeit of dried vegetables, and it is with great difficulty that she can be induced to move along at all. At every slight rise or ridge of hummocks she comes to a full stop, and even on the flat a very slow walk is her best pace. Finally she throws herself down in the snow, declaring as plainly as she can speak, poor animal, that she cannot go a yard farther. The dogs too move along with their tails between their legs, wearing a dejected expression on their faces. Every now and then Armitage has to take advantage of the frequent stops to unravel the marvellous tangle into which they have contrived to get their traces, which, being frozen as hard as steel rods, is neither an easy nor a pleasant occupation in this charming weather. Poor "Joey," who has been going in a very tottering condition most of the day. at last falls down, and is released from his trace, and for a short distance tries to follow us. He drops behind, however, and to get him along at all he has to be carried on the sledge. Poor little plucky fellow, he will not last much longer, and others are going in his direction also. The horrible weather - incessant gales, with temperatures as low as 40° below zero, and blinding blizzards-is rapidly telling upon all of them. It is sorry work getting along the exhausted creatures; but there is no help for it. We have now been marching for nearly twenty hours, with only two stops of an hour to make a pot of tea, and to eat some biscuits, cheese, and fat bacon. I intend to go for another four hours yet; there is every prospect of having to camp for the next three days, for the weather grows worse.

Grave of a bear-dog

Armitage and I are beginning to feel a little tired too, and several times when the dogs have checked at a hummock we have lain down in the snow, and all but fallen asleep. However, it is of no use lying there, so on we push again; but the labor of hauling the sledges out of drifts, starting the team again, and urging on the animals, combined with the wind and cold, will insure our sleeping soundly - when the time comes that we [page 505] may - let the condition of our couch be downy or otherwise. The wind has now grown into a fresh gale, but the temperature has risen with it, and the snow and mist have so increased that as we plod along we can hardly see the ice precipices of the glacier face sixty yards away; I can barely distinguish Armitage a dozen yards behind, occasionally lose sight of him entirely, and have to stop for him to come up or I should lose him.

To prevent constant frost-bites we have our wind-guards over our faces, leaving only apertures for the eyes and the mouth. They give us very much the appearance of Spanish inquisitors.

On we tramp, until, rounding a sudden turn in the glacier, we suddenly find ourselves nearly out of the wind, but in a perfect whirl of fine blinding snow and darkness-in fact, in a kind of backwater of the storm.

To continue our march farther at present has become out of the question, so I decide to camp, and after searching around for some time, at length find a hummock to which I can tie up the pony.

Cleaning a bear-skin

The tent is then pitched - no easy matter for two men in a blizzard - the dogs and pony fed, and we proceed to make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances will allow.

Our socks and the grass in our boots, made wet with condensed perspiration, are changed for others, and the moist ones placed on our chests to dry, which is the only means possible, as, of course, we have no fire; then, having put on our furs, and cooked our dinner over a spirit-lamp, we lie down to sleep. We have hardly done so when an ominous roar close at hand, followed by two more, rouses us up, and we crane our necks out of the tent to endeavor to ascertain the cause. Is the glacier discharging bergs close at hand? It sounds like it. If so, our position close to it, to say the least, is not a pleasant one! However, we can see nothing through the blinding snow, so we lie down again and decide to chance [page 506] it. Once or twice this noise, like thunder, is repeated.

'Brownie', our pony
"brownie", our pony

On the recurrence of these sounds we feel very uneasy, and are in momentary expectation that a mass of ice, weighing hundreds of tons, will crash down upon us. However, it cannot be helped, as we cannot see to move our camp, and in such weather we feel we may easily step out of the frying-pan into the fire.

On the following morning we found that several avalanches of snow had slipped off the glacier above us on to the floe beneath, twenty-five yards from our tent ; and that the weight of the snow had so borne down the ice as to force the water up. I found " Brownie" standing up to her knees in it, and water permeating through the snow upon which we were lying, soaking our belongings.

The gale still raged with unabated fury, and the temperature stood at from 15° to 20° below zero. There was, however, less snow-drift. Our sledges had all but disappeared from sight, and the tent was half buried; we could not, however, stay where we were, as a further snow-slip from the glacier might place us in the sea itself,[page 507] and our quarters were not the acme of comfort as it was. After three hours' digging we got the sledges out and under way. Armitage and I both got our noses and cheeks frozen in the process, and. I both my wrists, upon which appeared large blisters in the course of a few hours, which later became tiresome sores.

Cape Flora
Ice-floes in May on Cape Flora Strait, from an altitude of 300feet.
(The camp is in the middle of the picture)

After getting clear of the glacier face, and proceeding about a mile, we found a spot on the lee side of some hummocks, where we were partly protected from the gale, and there pitched our camp.

The weather throughout our first spring journey in 1897 was severe in the extreme. During the two months we were away we only enjoyed thirteen and a half tolerably fine days - high gales, driving snow, thick mist, and often very low temperatures comprised the fare provided for us. On the 28th of March, at our camp near the entrance of Crichton by a severe gale. I examined the dogs soon after we turned out of our furs, and found them buried in the snow, but apparently all well. Three hours afterwards I found one dog frozen to death, and its body as hard as a rock; another dog was frozen fast in the ice, and we had to hack it out with a small pick to get it free. The following day another of our dogs broke down, and we carried him on our sledge in the endeavor to keep him alive; but the poor little beast, faithful and plucky to the last, gradually froze to death. Two or three days later two more dogs ended their days. We wrapped them up in skins when we camped, and I gave them a nip of whiskey each in the hope of reviving them, but to no avail.

in wind-guards and militzas

It was a sad time for us thus to see our animals die one after the other, to say nothing of the loss of draught-power, which rendered progress at all very difficult. At that time, too, we could not even guess at the length of the journey in front of us. We had set out to go round the western land, and meant to accomplish it.

The fluctuations in temperature, too, were very trying. Frequently with the onset of a southeast gale it rose from 40° below zero to 28° above within thirty-six hours-altering our garments, which had previously been frozen as hard as sheets of galvanized iron, so that it took us hours to get into them, to a state of noisome moistness, and everything inside the tent would be in a condition of drip. Down again would go the temperature, and the rockiness of our clothes and equipment would be increased. This addition of moisture and ice in our clothes,[page 508] besides being inconvenient and uncomfortable, greatly increased our weights. To give an instance, my militza (fur jumper), which on leaving the hut weighed a little under ten pounds, on our return scaled nearly thirty pounds. The rises of temperature and consequent wet in the tent caused our furs to rot, and the stench made thereby was absolutely indescribable.

jackson and armitage on their sledge journey (1897)

During our first sledge journey of last spring we were on several occasions cut off by open se -water - of course with masses of floating ice in it, running right up to the ice precipices which fringe the coast, thus stopping all further advance on the sea ice, and obliging us to search for a spot where, aided by high snowdrifts, we could haul our sledges by means of a purchase up the face of the glacier, and thus enable us to begin the climb up the steep incline of the ice-clad land. This work entailed excessive labor, hauling our sledges simply foot by foot, as the five remaining dogs stopped every eight or ten yards, and could only be started again by hauling up the sledges and by shouting ourselves hoarse. The whip is of little use when every muscle has to be strained to move at all, and besides being repugnant to any one fond of animals, tends to discourage rather than to spur them on, and Mr. Armitage seldom used it.

There is a popular picture of dog-driving, of a man seated on a sledge twirling a long whip around his head, and careering gayly along at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, behind a team of dogs. This, unfortunately, is anything but a true one. We never thought of riding upon a sledge, but were more than contented if it could be kept in motion at a slow walk by the united efforts of the animals and ourselves. I hauled in a trace ahead of the dogs, and led the way, while my companion, by continuous shouting and occasional use of the whip, kept the dogs at their work, and whenever the sledges stopped - which they did at the smallest obstruction - by hauling and shouting got them started again.

On more than one occasion we nearly lost our pony down crevasses, when toiling over the high glacier land. One day last spring I was leading as usual with her, and Mr. Armitage was following in my tracks with the dog team. On the even surface of the snow there is nothing whatever to indicate the yawning dark chasms, hundreds of feet in depth, which lie concealed around us besides being inconvenient and uncomfortable, greatly increased our weights. To give an instance, my militza (fur jumper), which on leaving the hut weighed a little under ten pounds, on our return scaled nearly thirty pounds. The rises of temperature and consequent wet in the tent caused our furs to rot, and the stench made thereby was absolutely indescribable.

A rowdy-dowdy crew

On more than one occasion we nearly lost our pony down crevasses, when toiling over the high glacier land.

One day last spring I was leading as usual with her, and Mr. Armitage was following in my tracks with the dog team. On the even surface of the snow there is nothing whatever to indicate the yawning dark chasms, hundreds of feet in depth, which lie concealed around us [page 509] by light bridges of snow, only a few inches in thickness. The snow-covered surface of the glacier looks as firm and stable as Piccadilly, not even a slight depression in the snow marks the hideous pitfall below, and the inexperienced traveller would probably tramp on with a feeling of perfect security. We, however, had been on glaciers many times before. Suddenly, without a moment's warning, " Brownie " dropped through the snowcrust with all four legs, and hung suspended by a light bridge of snow over a gaping abyss, the black depths of which the eye could not fathom. Fortunately she was too much frightened and too exhausted to move a muscle, otherwise she would have disappeared at once, taking her sledges with her. My companion, seeing what had happened, at once came to my help, but unwisely stepped off his ski - which are a great protection in such cases - and at once dropped through into the crevass up to his arms. I must confess that the next few seconds were anxious ones as I endeavored to hold up the pony with one hand, and to render assistance to Mr. Armitage with the other. However, he fortunately managed to scramble out into safety, and by passing a line round the pony's neck we succeeded [page 510] in extricating her from her perilous position.

skirting the glacier face

Two days later we sustained a severe loss in the death of our poor pony. We had been confined to our tent by a hard gale of wind, combined with heavy driving snow and dense mist, and our little encampment was all but buried in the drifts. The view from our tent was limited to ten yards, beyond which we could see nothing. "Brownie" and our five remaining dogs had been getting weaker and weaker, and we still knew not the distance that separated us from our hut on Cape Flora, or how far we yet had to travel.

Dead-Pony Camp

On the evening of the second day of this charming weather I heard her struggling to get upon her feet, and I went outside the tent to render assistance, in which Mr. Arrnitage shortly afterwards joined me. For an hour, in the howling gale, we endeavored to get her up, but she was too weak to stand. We wrapped her up in her blanket coat and made her as comfortable as we could, giving her the last handful of oats kept for an emergency. I knew it was all over with her. Next morning I found her dead and frozen hard.

We felt very sad at the loss of our poor old pony. At the hut she had become quite one of the family, and in good weather ran about loose as she pleased. She had been a faithful servant to us, and I had been promising her all sorts of good times for the rest of her life if I could only get her back to England in safety. Poor animal, she deserved a better fate than to leave her bones on that dismal, silent glacier. With her, too, died more than half our remaining [page 511] draught-power, and necessitating our discarding three sledges and a great portion of our equipment, taking with us such articles only as were essential to life or for scientific investigations.

Our travels in Franz-Josef Land were not confined to sledging alone, but in the summer, when the breaking up of the ice rendered it possible, boat journeys were undertaken.

the five survivors of the spring sledging (1897)

In the summer of 1895, as soon as the Windward had broken loose from her winter quarters, I selected a crew of six, and in our whale-boat, twenty-five feet in length, and undecked, started off to explore the western land beyond Mr. Leigh Smith's farthest.

Franz-Josef Land has a very dangerous coast to boat upon. The greater portion of its shores is faced with perpendicular glacier walls, varying in height from thirty to eighty feet, and it is only at very long intervals that black basaltic rocks jut out of the ice near the sea, rendering landing possible. Everywhere else the ice-cap overruns everything.

Violent gales are frequent and sudden, accompanied by snow and dense mists even in summer.

On the 28th of July we left Cape Neale, which headland had never been landed upon before. I will now quote from my journal written at Cape Grant, immediately after our escape from a severe gale, in which the expedition nearly came to an abrupt end.

"We left Cape Neale about 11 A.M., and rowed round the cape to clear a lot of drift-ice, and then set sail across the bay. After proceeding some distance Cambridge Bay began to open out, and we could clearly make out the large, bold headland, with pockets running up on either side, forming a prominent cape. On the western side the water appears to run out in the form of straits, connecting Cambridge Bay with sea to the northward.

Our camp at Cape Crowther

"At 4.30 P.M. we passed Cape Ludlow. which is merely an ice-covered and glacier-faced promontory, with the upper ridges of a rock showing through the ice. Landing was impossible here. Fisher made a rough sketch of it, and after we had passed it some distance I took a photographic snap-shot of it. We had gone through much ice, and as we sailed on toward Cape Lofley it became much [page 512] closer. This, and the fact that the wind had freshened, and that the whole coast was glacier-faced, rendering landing impossible and offering no shelter, made our progress more and more risky. At 9 P.M. we rounded Cape Lofley and ran on to within five or six miles of a cape west of it (Cape Mary Harms worth), which I had first definitely seen from the summit of Cape Neale. Beyond it lay a dense bank of fog. The wind had now increased to nearly a moderate gale, and the ice had become very close, but of a low, level description, of about four to five feet in thickness, and being in motion, we had many narrow escapes from it. We had taken in a reef in the lug-sail, and we had now continually to put the boat's head up into the wind and to shake the sail to avoid gusts.

"Cape Lofley is of the same character as Cape Ludlow, with just a little more rock showing above the ice, but is glacier-faced, and there was no place where it was possible to land, still less to haul a boat out. Cape Mary Harmsworth appears to be very similar in these respects. Heavy ice lay to seaward and ahead of us, and had every appearance of a tight pack; and the wind was increasing in force, with an ugly-looking sky and a rapidly falling barometer. Things looked very threatening. It would be extremely nasty to be caught in a gale in our cockle-shell, especially amongst the ice we were in, which, although not heavy enough to break the force of the sea, was quite sufficiently so to smash our boat to match-wood. The whole coast is fronted by high, overhanging glacier faces, rendering landing impossible. I decided to try and get back to Cape Neale, which was apparently the nearest spot we could land upon, and to wait there until the storm passed over before proceeding.

"The whole coast, reaching from the throat of Cambridge Bay as far as we could see to the west, is one unbroken glacier face, with the tops of basaltic rocks jutting out of the ice, and with very high country behind it (it appeared to rise about 2000 feet). A more utterly desolate scene it is impossible to imagine. Nothing but one huge glacier is discernible. Cape Mary Harmsworth appeared to be as [page 513] ice-bound at the shores as Capes Lofley and Ludlow.

sunrise after the long polar winter (february)

" After turning our boat's head round to try and reach safety at Cape Neale, we ran into the wind two points on our port quarter. We threaded our way amongst the ice, often narrowly escaping collision, with the spray breaking over us, and frequently shipping seas over the weather gunwale. We were all of us soon drenched to the skin; and a snow-storm coming on rendered it difficult to see Cape Neale.

the pony

"At 10.30 P.M. the wind increased to a fresh gale, and occasionally to a strong gale in the gusts. The now high seas caused her to make so much leeway that weathering Cape Neale looked very improbable. We could proceed under sail no longer, and there was nothing for it but to weather it out in the open. We made a deep-sea anchor with three oars to which we lashed the ice anchor, and with about twenty fathoms of line attached to it from the bows, brought the boat's head round to the sea. The sea rapidly increased, and huge breakers threatened to swallow us [page 514] up at every moment. Snow and sleet continued throughout the night, and we could not see the land at all. It was bitterly cold, and we were very tired and hungry, but the boat required such constant attention in bailing out seas, etc., and there were such difficulties in the way of getting at food, that eating was out of the question. Thus we rode the night, expecting every moment to go down. Every one was more or less cheerful, although one or two looked very much concerned; but I saw no fear in any one's face, and all obeyed orders promptly and without offering suggestions or advice, which on such occasions, especially when promptitude of decision is essential to safety, would be particularly troublesome. The barometer fell from 29.75 at 6 P.M. to 29.65 at 9 P.M., to -29.60 at 10 P.M.* (At 10 A.M. it stood at 29.85.)

a walrus on an ice-floe

"July 29th, Monday. - Matters have not improved in the least. It, still blows as hard as ever, and a tremendous sea is running, with often very nasty cross-seas, which render it impossible to head them properly. We are, however, still afloat, and the Mary Harmsworth is fighting a tough battle for us, shipping a great deal of water frequently, but by incessant bailing we get her clear again. Three or four times we have been rolled nearly over by short breakers and half filled with water, but she still kept up.

"At about 4 P.M. a lump of jagged ice got foul of our sea anchor and cut it adrift. Of course it was quite impossible to recover it, and we had no means of rigging another. The one we lost was a little too light, and the first of the usual three breakers in succession often washed it home on us, leaving the line slack. I put Blomkvist in the bows with an oar out to keep the boat's head straight, and [page 515] Armitage rigged the jib aft of the mast to steady her and to give her sternway, to lessen the force of her meeting the waves, although it increased our drifting. Armitage and I relieved each other in directing the boat's course. The doctor, Fisher, and Child bailed her out, and in turn did duty at the bow oar.

cape crowther in summer

"During the whole day we only got one or two glimpses of the land through the snow and sleet, which appeared to be growing more and more distant; but what part of the land it was we could not distinguish. We all in turn tried to get a little sleep, but it was out of the question with the seas continually breaking over us, although, strange to say, when especially on duty in directing the boat's course, I experienced the very greatest difficulty in keeping myself awake, and once or twice nearly dropped off in spite of my teeth. We were all drenched to the skin, dog-tired, and very hungry and cold. In this manner we spent another night, the gale still howling around us with unabated fury.

"Barometer at about noon read 29.40, corrected to standard at Cape Flora - 28.80.

f.g. jackson walrus-shooting from the birch-bark canoe

"July 30th, Tuesday.-The gale blowing as hard as ever, but now from the north and north west, with constant snowstorms, and the swell and cross-seas very high, the latter being often very tumultuous, constantly nearly swamping us with volumes of water. How the boat kept on the surface is a wonder.

"Several times during the day I noticed a very remarkable appearance in the sky as the wind brought up the snow-storms. It appeared as if laths of wood were irregularly distributed over the sky, even to the zenith, wherever the nimbus clouds of the snow-storm covered it; and on the northern horizon appeared three poles, exactly resembling three bare masts of a ship with the hull hidden by the high waves. They were white, and at equal distances from each other, quite suggesting a phantom ship. The laths, which were also white, appeared straight, and the edges ran parallel to each other. They all were of a uniform breadth, and entirely suggested inch laths.

"The boat had now become very deficient in buoyancy, owing to everything we had on board being drenched, and as she rolled she lopped over water first [page 516] on the starboard and then on the port side. To remedy this as much as possible, and to give her more freeboard, we threw overboard several articles which could best be spared and were heavy, and so lightened her considerably. The tiller had given way, and Child made another from a harpoon-staff. At 4 P.M. there came a lull in the gale, which was now from the W.S.W., and the horizon partly cleared, showing the nearest land, which we concluded to be Cape Grant, but which was too far away (about forty miles) for us to be at all sure. It lay about N.N.E. (true) of us. Seeing a chance of getting out of our trouble, we set the reefed lug and jib, and determined to try and run down to the cape, although the wind was Still very strong, blowing from a moderate gale to a strong breeze.

one of our pets

"After six hours' sailing, fairly racing through the water at fully six knots an hour, we reached the land, which on nearer approach proved to be Cape Grant; and we ran round to the east side, hoping to find it sufficiently protected by the headland to enable us to land without damaging our boat or drowning ourselves. She got nearly swamped, however, and loose ice came thumping in upon her with the sea and stove in a plank.

the baby and his nurse going out for a constitunional

Owing to their weakened condition, Armitage, the doctor, and Child all got duckings in getting ashore; but this, I think, made little difference, as we were all as wet as we could be already. We at last got everything out of the boat, and hauled her up on to the very narrow beach. We were all of us more or less weak, and had considerable trouble in doing this. Blomkvist and I were the strongest of the party, but we didn't feel any the better for our late little entertainment. Two or three of the party were very groggy, and could hardly walk. We had had no sleep and nothing to eat but a biscuit or two each since leaving Cape Neale, three days ago, except that Child and I had had a raw dovekie each, which was the only thing in the way of food reachable. The others I could not induce to share this rough-and-ready repast, but all replied, 'I will have a little just now.' Before the lull in the gale occurred we were speculating [page 517] upon the probability of having to make for Novaia Zemlia, if it continued to drive us to the S.E., and reckoned up our rovisions. We have had a very near squeak for it, and all were mightily glad to be on firm ground again. "On landing we each had a nip of the little that remained of our port-wine, and I proposed ' the health of the Mary Harmsworth and the lady whose name she bears,' and coupled Armitage's name with it. His nautical knowledge and experience had been of the utmost service to us. All my fellows have behaved extremely well, and if we had gone to the bottom, would have done so as becomes men.

"We found all our spare clothes soaked, and all our property dripping with water. The get-up of some of our party after attempting to change was most ludicrous. One appeared without breeches, but with a very damp blanket wrapped kiltwise around his lower person. Another presented himself in a complete suit of oil-skins over very moist under-clothes. A third was in a long oil-skin coat; what he had on underneath is a secret known only to himself. A fourth was without boots, but in a pair of cloth moccasins and in my kid-skin leather coat. All our clothes were more or less wet. Still, a jollier party never collected in a camp, and our appearance caused great amusement and endless jokes. We slept soundly until noon next day, in spite of our wet clothes and the cold. It was snowing most of the time, and the thermometer hovered about freezing-point; and this, with the damp air and high wind, made it a bit chilly, especially so to people in our circumstances.

However, we had the satisfaction of knowing that we had made a very successful journey, which, but for the gale blowing us off the coast, would possibly have been even more so if we could have got through the ice around Cape Mary Harmsworth. I hope yet to have another try, if the weather will allow us and the boat is not too much damaged.

shooting loons

"July 31st, Wednesday. - The gale is blowing very hard again, [page 518] and it is evident that we had seized the lull in the storm to run in in the nick of time. We turned out about noon, and spent the rest of the day in spreading out our clothes and trying to dry them, but the moist atmosphere and the frequent snow-storms and sleet rendered this very difficult. The swell on the beach has much increased, and is breaking heavily, and thumping heavy ice upon it. We had to shift our tents this afternoon, as the sea once or twice washed into them. Cape Grant on this side is a very bad place for a camp, as there is very little space upon which it is possible to put up a tent, as the sharp, jagged, steep talus runs down to the water's edge. The doctor looks the worst of the party, and is very thin and haggard; another day or two of it, I think, would have finished him. We in our tent (BIomkvist, Armitage, and I) are now all right again, only a bit stiff, but both Fisher and Child look hollow-eyed and played out.

"August 1st, Thursday. - We are still storm-bound. We spend the day in drying our clothes, etc., so far as the weather will allow us. The barometer shows indications of improvement.

"All the ice has now cleared out of the bays between here and Cape Stephen, and many very large bergs are drifting about between here and there, gradually passing south out of Nightingale Sound.

after the gale - cape grant

" August 2d, Friday. - There is less wind to-day, but a heavy swell is still running. The beach is much encumbered with ice blocks, and at present it is quite impossible to launch the boat.

The 'Mary Harmsworth' and her crew

" Armitage and I walked down, or rather clambered down, to the depot of provisions on the S.E. front of the cape, and added various provisions which we can spare if we find it impossible to attempt to round Cape Mary Harmsworth this season. I find, on a close examination, that our boat is much damaged, but I hope that we may fit her up well enough to try it. The provisions may come in for some unfortunate castaway, possibly for ourselves, some time or other."

summer in franz joseph land

Great credit must be given to my companions in Franz-Josef Land for the loyal [page 519] and hearty help they rendered me in my endeavors to increase our geographical and other scientific knowledge of the world, and to whom whatever success the expedition has attained is due. Neither must Mr. Harmsworth, who supplied the greater portion of the expenses connected with the expedition, be forgotten for the part he played in it, rendering it possible for me to carry my plans into deeds. These plans are embodied in the following letter, which was written by Mr. Harmsworth to the secretary of the expedition on the eve of my departure, and was published in the public press:

the meeting between jackson and nansen

12 CLARGES STREET, PlCCADILLY, W.

MY DEAR MONTIFIORE, -- To write "a few words" on a subject one has at heart very deeply is not easy; but I will be as brief as possible in my explanation of the reasons I had in mind when I decided on fitting out the present Polar Expedition. From the time when as a youngster I read the story of Franklin I have always been fascinated by the great mystery of the North. Julius von Payer's book and the concluding chapters of Admiral Markham's Sir John Franklin decided me to contribute, to the best of my ability, to the Exploration of Franz-Josef Land, in itself a field for a vast amount of scientific work, and in the opinion of the most distinguished Arctic men the best road to the North Pole. Having, owing to the efforts of yourself, been made aware of Mr. Jackson's wonderful energy and his recent work in the Arctic, I offered him the leadership of the Expedition, and secured an ally in whom I place the utmost confidence.
As to Mr. Jackson's chances of reaching the Pole I shall say nothing. For my own part I shall be entirely satisfied if he and his companions add to our knowledge of the geography and the fauna and flora of Franz-Josef Land and the area lying immediately North [page 520] of it. With "beating the record" North I have very little sympathy. If Mr. Jackson plants the Union Flag nearer the Pole than the Stars and Stripes (who head us by four miles only), I shall be glad; but if he came back, having found the Pole, but minus the work of the Scientists of which our Expedition consists, I should regard the venture as a failure. I have emphasized this point particularly. Our venture is not a North Pole, but a Polar Expedition, a distinction with a vast difference. The advice and assistance given us by such authority as the President of the Royal Geographical Society, the Council of the Meteorological Office and Committee and Superintendent of the Kew Observatory, Captain [page 521] Creak, R.N., of the Hydrographic Department of the Admiralty, Mr. R. Leigh Smith, Sir Leopold McClintock; Admiral Markham, Sir Allen Young, Mr. R. H. Scott, F.R.S., Mr. J. Coles, F.R.A.S., of the Geographical Society, Mr. W. Harkness,F.C.S., of Somerset House, Sir George Thomas, Bart., and Dr. W. H. Neale, and the interest evoked throughout the world, have been very gratifying to all the brave fellows who have elected to be left on Franz-Josef Land for two-perhaps for four or five years.
Yours faithfully,
(S'g'd.) ALFRED C. HARMSWORTH.

An Arctic Highway

I think I may say, without boasting, that the expectations and desires expressed in the above letter have been fully realized. I cannot lay down my pen without stating what sincere pleasure it gave myself and my companions to be in the position to render the timely aid we did to Dr. Nansen and his brave companion, Lieutenant Johansen, which in itself, to me, would be sufficient reward for the weary years spent in the far North.

a camp on the shores of queen victoria sea