True Tales of Arctic Heroism in the New World Part 15

A pleasurable incident made happy for a moment these distressed sailors, sick, worn out, surrounded by an illimitable expanse of ice. Markham records: "The appearance of a little snow-bunting, which fluttered around us for a short time, uttering to us its rather sweet chirp. This was an event of no small interest to our party, as it was the first bird seen by the majority for a period of nine months. Even the sick men on the sledge requested they might have their heads uncovered and lifted so as to obtain a glimpse of the little warbler."

Conditions steadily changed from bad to worse, and on June 2 the sledge party was simply a band of cripples. Five helpless invalids were in their sleeping-bags on the sledge, four others were barely able to crawl along, leaving only six men and two officers to drag their sick comrades and the heavily loaded sledge.

On June 5 they camped on land, about seven miles south of Cape Joseph Henry, and were cheered and encouraged by having a meal of fresh hare, which had been thoughtfully cached for them by a travelling party.

Unfortunately they came to the sh.o.r.e a day too late, for on visiting the depot Markham learned from a note "to our disappointment that Captain Nares, May, and Fielden had only left for the s.h.i.+p the previous day.

This was very unfortunate."

Although temporarily braced up by fresh meat and by delicacies from the depot, the party reached its effective end the following day, June 6.

Five invalids were on the sledge, four others had to lie down on the snow and rest every thirty or forty yards, and a tenth man was quite near the end, while the party had wandered a distance from the road.

Markham fully realized the critical situation of the party and writes: "So rapid had been the encroachments of the disease that it was only too palpable that immediate succor was necessary for our salvation. At the rate of progress we were making, it would take us fully three weeks to reach the s.h.i.+p, although only forty miles distant; and who would there be left in three weeks' time? The few who were still strong enough to drag the sledges would barely last as many days!"

In his field journal he records on June 6: "After a long consultation with Parr it has been resolved that he shall proceed to-morrow morning, if fine, and walk to the s.h.i.+p. Our only chance of saving life is by receiving succor as soon as possible. Although the distance from us to the s.h.i.+p is nearly forty miles, over floes covered with deep snow and girt with heavy hummocks, he has n.o.bly volunteered to attempt it, and has confidence in his being able to accomplish it. He is the only one of the party strong enough to undertake such a march."

Parr knew the strain that such a dangerous and difficult journey involved, so he arranged his equipment and laid his plans accordingly.

As lightly outfitted as was safe, he started at ten o'clock in the evening, wisely avoiding the disadvantages of day travel. The night gave him the needed lower temperatures with firmer snow-crust, and avoided the snow-blinding sun-glare, as the course was to the south which brought the midnight sun on the traveller's back and so spared his eyes, while more clearly disclosing the irregularities of the ice.

Most fortunately there was no wind, the weather was fine, the air so clear that to the westward stood sharply outlined the coast of Grant Land along which the heroic officer had often travelled during the past year. This enabled him to keep a straight course, and saved him from the dangers of straying to which one is liable in thick or stormy weather when travel must be slowly made by careful compa.s.s bearings. He took with him food for a single day only, with a small spirit lamp so that in extreme need he could start a fire, melt ice for drinking-water, or warm a scanty meal. With his belt well pulled up, his foot-gear carefully and not too tightly adjusted, ice-chisel in hand and snow-goggles over his eyes, he said "Good-by," and started amid the answering "G.o.d-speeds" of his comrades, which long re-echoed in his ears as so many appeals for aid and stimulants to action.

Two routes were open to him to the _Alert_. Possibly the safer way in the advanced stage of oncoming summer, but certainly a much longer route, lay along the ice-foot of the coast, which from the next headland made a long detour to the westward around Marco Polo Bay. The shorter air-line route was across the sea ice, now fast decaying under the summer sun, with the certainty of many air-holes and possible pitfalls where tides and pressure, sun and currents had broken and wasted the winter floe. Confident in his keenness of vision and in his familiarity with sea ice, he took the shorter air-line route, though its rough rubble-ice and shattered hummock-ma.s.ses were sure to make greater demands on his physical strength and to require vigilance to avoid accidents.

On and on, mile after mile, hour upon hour, he marched slowly but steadily onward, stumbling often and halting only when road conditions demanded. Now and then the loose rubble-ice separated under his feet, leaving him uncertain footing, and again huge pressure-ridges or converging hummocks obliged the weary man to carefully seek a safe way through their tangled, confused ma.s.ses. The greatest danger was that of breaking through thin ice, and when he came to some attractive piece of new smooth ice, deceptively promising fast and easy travel, it was his rule to carefully test its strength and thickness with his ice-chisel before venturing to cross it. It was not that his life should be lost, but that he carried with him the gift of life or the message of death to others.

Now and then he staggered and there came over him a sense of growing weariness, but the thought of his helpless, dying comrades on the Great Frozen Sea behind him, and of the eager, willing hearts in the s.h.i.+p before him, steeled his nerves, inspired anew his heart, and gave fiery energy to his flagging strength and failing body.

For an hour or two as he marched there arose faint doubts as to the wisdom of his cross-sea route, for it was a period of strong tides which in their onward sweep from the northern Arctic Ocean warped and twisted the mighty ice-covering, whose total disruption was certain at the first violent gale, it being stayed now only by the almost immovable floes of enormous thickness crowded against the bordering lands.

Wearisome and monotonous in the extreme had the main pack become to Parr after steady travel thereon for more than two months, especially during the brief periods of calm weather when the curling wreaths and trailing streamers of the almost constantly drifting snow were absent, leaving the scene unrelieved in its almost hideous desolation. But then at least he was free from the nervous tension that now came with the loud groans, the feeble mutterings, the rasping grindings of floes, and the loud explosions that mark the surface changes of the pack from heavy tidal action. Especially the fear of a fog-covered floe came to his mind, as vaporous forms like water-spirits rose here and there from fissures forming in the cracking floes. Would the dreaded fog envelop the pack?

If so, what were his chances of reaching the _Alert_? And what fate would the fog bring to the field party?

The uneasy, trembling ice-pack in thus forcing on him a realization of its presence through motion under his feet recalled inevitably the vision of the Great Frozen Sea, which if it had insured world-wide fame to his faithful sledge-mates had also brought death so near to them.

It was therefore with an overwhelming sense of relief that he clambered up the overtowering ice-foot at Depot Point and once more placed his foot on firm ground.

Ascending the hill he scanned the horizon and was relieved to note that a breath of southern wind was carrying the fog to the north, while the floes toward the s.h.i.+p were entirely clear.[19]

Behind him lay Marco Polo Bay, while before him was the seemingly boundless and illimitable expanse of the great polar pack. Ample food dainties in the cache at his feet invited refreshment, while physical exhaustion, from rough, steady travel, demanded rest and sleep. Either need would have here stayed a man of less heroic stamp than Parr, but he paused not to eat a bit of food, to drink a cup of tea, nor to take the brief rest that his tired muscles so sadly needed.

A short distance beyond he scrambled down over the precipitous ice-foot to the chaotic, pressure-ridged ice-ma.s.ses of Black Cliffs Bay, and fixed his course in a bee-line to the farthest cape, Harley Spit to the southeast. He could not later recall the awful trials of that cross-bay travel. With failing strength and exhausted body, to his confused mind the furlongs seemed to lengthen out to miles and the hours were of interminable duration. With his great and splendid vitality almost utterly spent, he reached the cape after nine hours of utmost effort.

A short mile along the ice-foot brought in sight a standing tent which stirred his heart with visions of expectant comrades from the s.h.i.+p with G.o.d-sent aid. Hastening his lagging steps as best he could, he reached the tent and raised the flap. Alas! it was empty, and for the moment he was overcome with bitter and disheartening disappointment. Would aid ever come or help be obtained?

With the mental reaction he became conscious of his fearfully exhausted condition and knew that he could go no farther without rest and drink.

He lighted his tiny spirit lamp, filled the pot with fresh snow, unrolled a sleeping-bag and crept into it for warmth and rest. In time, all too short it was to the worn-out man, the kettle sang its usually welcome song of steam. Then came the tea--strong and almost boiling it stirred his blood, cheered his heart, and gave vigor to his wearied body; he needed none for his unfailing courage. On rising he found that his legs were so stiff that he could barely place one before the other, but with a great effort of will he was soon able to reach the floe and to go on toward Cape Sheridan, beyond which at a short distance lay the _Alert_, and safety.

Pressing onward steadily, though with decreasing speed, from hour to hour he hoped against hope to meet some sailor comrade from the s.h.i.+p--either hunters seeking game or officers taking their daily exercise. Time and again a black speck on the floe took the mocking semblance of a man to his longing eyes, only to fade into an inanimate shape. Time and again, as he stumbled or staggered, it seemed as though he would fail, so feeble had the body become and so forceless his will-power. Could he reach the s.h.i.+p? Would help come in time for the dying men behind? Most fearful of all, was the _Alert_ still there?

Exposed to the full force of the Arctic Ocean, had she suffered s.h.i.+pwreck or was she unharmed? If safe, why did no one come?

At last he was at Cape Sheridan, and oh! happiness, there against the southern sky were outlined the bare spars and the covered deck of the long-sought _Alert_. She was but a few miles away, yet in his enfeebled state she seemed to recede rather than to advance as he dragged himself along.

But everything has its end, and in six of his weariest hours Parr reached the s.h.i.+p, strangely enough without being seen. Striding silently across the deck, nodding only to the officer on watch, he nervously knocked on the panels of Captain Nares's cabin. The door swung open at once and for a few seconds the captain stared vaguely at his subordinate. So solemn was Parr's look, so soiled his garb, so weary his expression, and so travel-stained was his person that Sir George at first failed to recognize him.

Meanwhile matters had steadily gone from bad to worse with Markham and his men. On the day following Parr's departure, Gunner George Porter, who had been sick seven weeks with suspected scurvy, was taken with retching, with recurring spasms and stertorous breathing, which ended in his death. Regard for the safety of the living did not permit of carrying him farther, and he was buried on the floe, in a deep snow-drift near the camp. At the head of his grave was placed a cross improvised from the oar of a boat and a sledge batten.

The day following the death of Porter only five of the fourteen men were able to enter the sledge harness, so that Commander Markham had to make the needful sixth sledgeman to move the party forward. The next day two other men failed utterly, immediately before the arrival of the relief party from the _Alert_--promptly despatched as a result of Parr's heroic journey. Before reaching the s.h.i.+p there remained only three of Markham's original fifteen men who were not dragged on the relief sledges, unable to walk.

Heroic as was the dauntless spirit that spurred Parr to the journey which saved the lives of several of his field comrades, it was well matched by his indomitable will and by his powers of physical endurance.

By the route traversed Parr marched over forty miles, which under any conditions would have been a remarkable achievement, without extended break or rest, over the rough surface of the Great Frozen Sea, whose broken, disjointed ice-ma.s.ses present difficulties of travel to an almost incredible degree.

Not only was Parr's march practically unbroken, but it was made in less than twenty-three hours, a somewhat shorter time than was taken by Dr.

Moss and Lieutenant May with a fresh dog team "on a forced march" for the relief of the party.

Parr's conduct after his most heroic actions was thoroughly modest and una.s.suming. In the field and later at home his life appears to have been an exemplification of his sledge motto during the northern journeys, of _Faire sans dire_ (To do and not to talk).

In recalling the past and glorious deeds of British seamen in arctic work during the past century, looking to the future one may ask with Drayton:

"O, when again shall Englishmen With such acts fill a pen?"

FOOTNOTE:

[19] The clearing of the fog was providential for the invalids. Markham records at that time: "Our usual weather overtook us, and the land was entirely concealed by the fog. This increases our anxiety about Parr."

The solidarity and altruism of the party is shown by the anxiety not for themselves but for others.

RELIEF OF AMERICAN WHALERS AT POINT BARROW

"Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt.

Dispraise or blame: nothing but well and fair."

--MILTON.

After a long and dangerous besetment in the polar ice to the north of Bering Strait, the American whaling-s.h.i.+p _Navrach_ was abandoned August 14, 1897. Twenty-one of her seamen perished on the moving ice-pack of the Arctic Ocean in their efforts to reach land across the drifting ice.

Captain Whitesides with his brave wife and six of the crew intrusted their fortunes to the sea, and almost miraculously escaped by using a canvas boat, which was alternately hauled across the floes and launched where open water was reached. On landing at Copper Island, off the coast of Asia, the party was in danger of death through starvation when rescued by the United States revenue-cutter _Bear_, which chanced to touch at that point. The news of the loss of the _Navrach_ and the reports of very bad ice conditions in the Arctic Ocean created great alarm in the United States, owing to the fact that no less than eight whale-s.h.i.+ps with crews of two hundred and sixty-five men were missing that autumn. Appeals for prompt aid were made to the President of the United States by the members of the chamber of commerce of San Francisco and by other interested persons. Refitting in three weeks'

time, the United States revenue-cutter _Bear_, manned by volunteers under Captain Francis Tuttle, R.C.S., sailed from Seattle on November 27, 1897, and wintered at Unalaska. The story of the relief of the whalers, happily and heroically accomplished by this expedition, forms the substance of this sketch.

From the character of the duties of the revenue-cutter service its officers and men are not favored with such frequent opportunities for adventurous deeds as are those of the army and of the navy, but whenever occasion has arisen they have ever shown those qualities of courage, self-sacrifice, and devotion which go far to inspire heroic action.

As the period of navigation had already pa.s.sed for the northern seas, the _Bear_ was to winter at Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, communicating with the distressed seamen by an overland expedition, which should aid and encourage them until the spring navigation should make their rescue possible. If practicable the land party was to be set ash.o.r.e on the north side of Norton Sound, near Cape Nome, which would require some eight hundred miles of sledge travel at the least.

From the eager volunteers for this arduous and novel service, Captain Tuttle approved of Lieutenant D. H. Jarvis, commanding, Lieutenant E. P.

Bertholf, and Dr. S. J. McCall, with a reindeer driver, Koltchoff.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Northwestern Alaska.]

With dauntless courage and skill Captain Tuttle skirted the growing ice-fields of Bering Sea, seeking in vain a lead through which he could reach Norton Sound, but it was finally clear that the s.h.i.+p could not be put north of Nunavak Island without danger of her loss as well as sealing the fate of the whalers. The winter darkness, storm conditions, an uncharted coast, and drifting ice forced him to land the party as far north of Kuskowim Bay as could be safely reached. Fortunately, on December 16, a wild, stormy day, the sh.o.r.e ice drifted far enough seaward to enable a hasty landing to be made near Cape Vancouver. There were forebodings of evil in attempting this winter journey now stretched out to fifteen hundred miles, under conditions which increased its perils. But with the splendid confidence and magnificent vitality of youth, the fearless revenue-officers hailed with satisfaction the beginning of their arduous journey of mercy and relief.