The Arctic Crusoe: a tale of the Polar Seas

Front matter

THE ARCTIC CRUSOE % Sarrattue of ensure in fyt Jpolar Regions By PERCY B. ST. JOHN LONDON WAED, LOCK, AND TYLER ■WARWICK HOTJ3E, PATESN03TEB EOW MDCCCLXXV. T.4U tights reserved.] I Mrs. MARSH'S NOVELS. NEW EDITION. Price Two Shillings each. Any Volume separately. I. TWO OLD MEN'S TALES. II. NORMAN'S BRIDGE. A Novel. III. CASTLE AVON. A Novel. IV. AUBREY. A Novel. V. ANGELA. A Novel. VI. LETT1CE ARNOLD. VII. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. VIII. TALES OF WOODS AND FIELDS. "Mrs. Marsh possessed acute observation, had much experience, and could not only describe the outward appearances of humanity, but could plunge beneath the surface, probe the mind and the heart, and cou'd charm or terrify by the description of what she found there. No -writer had greater power than she ot" compelling tears. There was a fine sense of humour in her too; together wiih clearness of judgment on some of the problems of life, and what are called duties of one person to another ; and a rare" fidelity in bringing vividiy before her readers the beauties of nature, or ilhe domestic surroundings of a bride in the gloom of her new home on the sunleas sido ol Chancery Lane." — Athenæum, October 17, 1874.

London: WARD, LOCK, & TYLER, Warwick House, Paternoster Row. THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO CAPTAIN NAEES, R.N., AS A SMALL TRIBUTE TO HIS DEVOTION TO HIS COUNTRY'S SERVICE IN UNDERTAKING THE RECENT EXPEDITION TO THE ARCTIC REGIONS. CONTENTS. CHAP PAGE I. A Storm — A Hero — Young Robinson — Early Seamanship 9 II. America — A Heroine — Ambition and its Result 21 III. A Fearful Tempest— Dead Calm— A Whale— The Capture — Envy and Jealousy — Icebergs Ahead 30 IV. A Mutiny— The Winter in the Ice 41 V. A Bear Hunt 51 VI. Alone on the Ice — Shipwreck . . . .58 VII. Shore— The Island— Tlie Volcano— The Foxes . 64 VIII. In which Henry Starts in Search of a Suitable Camping Ground 75 IX. The Sulphur Pool 84 X. A Wild Goose Chase 97 XL The Death Struggle— The Hot-well Cave . . 108 XII. Sunday 118 XIII.

Tribulations and Cares — A Boat .... 123 XIV. A Perilous Trial 131 XV. Hunted by Wolves 137 XVI. Attempted Escape — The Island of Despair . . 142 XVII. My Adventures on the New Island, and my Voyage Home — An Extraordinary Discovery . . Contents. XVIII. A Sailor's Yarn 166 XIX. Stop Attacks a Polar Bear 174 XX. The Tame Deer 185 XXI. Natives 190 XXII. The "Ceres "of Hull 203 XXIII. Preparations for Winter— A Wonderful Woman . 220 XXIV. Winter— Further Adventures . . . .240 XXV. The Greenland Fishery 264 XXVI. The Indian Girl .275 XXVII. The Sledge . . 285 XXVIII. Breaking of the Ice 296 XXIX. Igloolik 307 XXX. The Truce 318 XXXI. Battle with the Esquimaux 327 XXXII. Great Bear Lake— The Dog-Ribs— Fort Franklin . 338 XXXIII. The Winter 347 XXXIV. Sad Events 356 XXXV. Conclusion

Preface

. Though many ancient writers of note believed that inhabi tants existed at both antipodes of the earth, no efforts were made until long after the Christian era to discover regions divided from us by ice and snow, by bergs and glaciers, and dangers which, in the olden time, were considerably magnified. But from the day when King Alfred, in 890, tells the story of the first Arctic expedition, to the present hour, England has scarcely ever faltered in her attempts to penetrate the secrets of the vast unknown region. Other nations have done much, but to this country is discovery mainly indebted. The received opinion is that Iceland was stumbled on by the Scandinavian pirates, but in the Itinerary of William of Worcester, even this addition to our geographical knowledge is ascribed to one Robert Bacon, of " Crowmers," in Norfolk.

Preface. VIII No matter what may be the truth on this disputed point, the whole narrative of Arctic and Polar research, from the days of Simon Otho, in King Alfred's time, nearly a thousand years ago, reads more like a romance than anything else. Before the compass was known, bold mariners went forth into those seas, and later, even wheu navigation was better understood, the adventurers sailed in miserable ships, badly equipped, with apocryphal charts, and no actual knowledge of the wild and wend regions which surround the northern pole of the earth. It is remarkable, considering the equipments of the earlier expeditions, how more accidents did not occur. These men faced perils more terrible than the battle-field, the more that, in their anxiety for glory and renown, they plunged into such unknown and desolate regions.

What can be conceived more daring — not to say rash — than for the Muscovy Company to send a vessel of forty tons — the George, commanded by Arthur Pet, with a crew of nine men and a boy ; and the William, Captain Jahcmen, five men and a boy, to face such appalling dangers ? Yet, with these mere cockle-boats they approached the Polar seas, made repeated attempts to enter the pack, and finally sailed in company for England, which country the George reached, but the William was heard of no more. What story in romance can be more astounding than that of Barentz, who, in 1594, started for Nova Zembla in a Preface. IX fishing-smack, and sailed over 1,700 miles of ground, making eighty-one attempts to enter the pack ? Then, again, the story of his winter in the Arctic regions — a story of terrible sufferings and death.

Imagine seventeen men preparing deliberately for an Arctic winter, a thing never tried before, and this at a time Avhen no inhabitants had been found to prove that men could live in those parts. The narrative of their work, their discipline, their cheerful determination to do thenbest, is simply wonderful. With drift and other wood they built a house, to which they removed all food and property. In this house, amidst great suffering, they passed the winter, and finally, in June, started for home in two small open boats, their leader, Barentz, dying shortly after, and being buried on the grand spot where he won his laurels. Two hundred and seventy years after this house was discovered, and the description of it by the survivors found to be exact. It was thirty-t wo feet long by twenty broad, and strongly built.

Then standing bed-places, as represented in the curious old drawing made by De Veer, and all the many tools, cooking utensils, and other matters they could not take in their boats, were all found. They were brought away as relics of the events of three centuries ago, and purchased by the Dutch Government, who have deposited them in then Naval Museum. Then we come to Henry Hudson, a citizen of London, Preface. X fitting out a small vessel of eighty tons, to discover the North Pole. He had only a crew of ten men and a boy, and yet the daring seaman seriously hoped to reach Japan by way of the North Pole. He did not carry out his daring design, but his discoveries were most important, and will send his name down to the latest posterity, the more that, after all the knowledge he imparted to us, he was, on his fourth and final voyage, cruelly and basely murdered by his mutinous crew.

The whole story is a mystery, there being really no evidence but that of his assassins and their accomplices, which leads us to believe that he, his sonj and faithful crew, were cast in an open boat to the mercy of the winds and waves. Many were the objects which led to the advancement of Arctic discovery — the desire to promote commerce, which, in a notable manner, was done by the opening up of vast whaling-grounds and seal-fisheries ; the belief in untold gold and silver hidden under the humous atmosphere and ice-clad fiords of the dismal region, but, above all, the innate love of glory, and desire to penetrate unknown lands, which is so strong a characteristic of all naval nations, and especially of the English people. Because of the danger and expense, many have decried all attempts at Polar exploration.

The poet Milton answered these objectors many years ago. He tells us in his brief Preface. XI " History of Muscovy" that these early enterprises might have seemed heroic, if any higher end than excessive love of gain and traffic had animated the design. Most of those expeditions which had for their object discovery and profit were promoted by companies supported in many cases by the Government, but the most earnest have generally been those which have been dispatched by private individuals. We have a notable instance of this in the case of Lady Frankhn and M'Clintock, the latter resulting in the final discovery of the North-west passage, which, how ever, appears to have been the apanage of Sir John himself, though he did not five to tell the story. Another instance of the effect of private enterprise is to be found in the great work of Scoresby and his father.

During a whaling voyage, pursued for profit, great and important matters were inquired into and made known. This enterpris ing voyager entered ice in the ship Desolation, in April, 1806, and the reports he made in his published work proved most invaluable to future explorers. It was a received notion, previous to his journey, that ice only formed along shore, never in the open sea, while he demonstrated that it existed everywhere during nine months, both in stormy weather and in the open sea. He succeeded in making as far as 81° 30' N. latitude, in 19° E. longitude, before he returned. In the narrative which follows is told the story of one of Preface. XII those unknown explorers, who, though the result of their laborious enterprise may not be immediate, are none the less deserving of all praise.

The story is told just as it reached the author, and though it contains no startling discoveries, may interest and amuse those who wish to study Arctic phenomena iu all their phases, mingled with somewhat perilous and astounding adventures. The work has already had a very wide circulation, been republished in America, translated into French and German, and gained, therefore, some popularity. It is now carefully revised, all errors which had crept into former editions cor rected, and everything done to make it a healthy narrative, while it contains all the information relative to the Polar regions that may prove interesting to the general reader. Just now the subject is peculiarly well timed, and it may be the means of imparting some useful knowledge to many who, by the time we have news of the latest Arctic expedition, may be inclined to ask for more. THE AUTHOR. London, October, 1875.

Chapter I

A STORM A HERO YOUNG ROBINSON — EARLY SEAMANSHIP. It was midnight, and the time had come to change the watch. The night was dark and gloomy, the waves rolled mountains high, the thunder roared with its horrid artillery over the watery hills, the lightning flashed, and the wind howled through the rigging with intense fury. It was on board a stout whaling brig bound for the Northern Seas, and in the 60th degree of north latitude. It was early in the summer and just before the breaking up of the ice, so that despite its being the month of June, it was bitterly cold at the hour of which we speak. By the lantern near the binnacle — and at intervals by the fight of the stars — the state of affairs on board might be understood. Two men were at the wheel watching with fixed eye the compass that guided them through the night, and listening with deep attention for every order given by the skipper, who, with two men beside him, was standing close to the w7heel, his head turned towards the bows.

The brig was under close-reefed topsails, with a storm staysail — still, under the trying circumstances in which she was placed, almost too much canvas. Her rigging and running-gear cracked and rattled, her masts strained, and her yards, though braced sharp up, yet shook at every plunge and roll of the vessel. " A dirty night, captain," said a youth who stood near him — his form so concealed beneath a sou' -wester and tar paulin coat as to be confounded with his clothes ; " the worst I have yet seen." " And as bad a one as ever I saw, Master Harry, who, man and boy, have buffeted the seas these thirty years. But the Polar Seas ain't like a duckpond. Mr. Williams, I think we must shake a reef out of the topsails, she labours fearfully," continued the skipper, turning to a stout, short, thick-set man, who, every inch a sailor, stood silently beside them chewing his quid.

" Shake out a reef, sir ; why, I ain't sailed in this frozen ocean as long as you has, but this I knows — anywhere else I'd stand by to cut away the mast if you put another inch of sheeting on her. To my mind, bare poles is the trim for such a craft in a gale like this here," said the old sailor, drily. " As you will, Mr. Wrillianis," replied the captain, as he wras by courtesy called. " I have never yet found your experience fail. Besides, it is your watch and I shall not interfere. Call me if there be the least change. The 'wind will chop about, I dare say, by morning. Come, Master Harry, you must turn below aw7hile, or I shall have you nodding in my w7atch." Both took one long look around, 4nd though the wind blew, waves boiled and seethed, though the thunder bellowed and the lightning flashed, yet there seemed no sign of an immediate alteration, and therefore the two went below to seek refreshment and rest.

They descended by the companion to a small cabin, which had not too much accommodation in it for two. On each side was a kind of shelf, raised three feet from the ground, and about two feet in height, which was dignified by the name of a sleeping-berth. Around was a projection which served the purpose of lockers and benches — a kind of seat successfully imitated in certain modern conveyances. In the centre was a table, with above a swinging lamp, A Storm. 11 that remained ever steady amid all the shaking of the vessel. Against the bulkhead were suspended muskets, swords, pistols, and two fancy harpoons ; while above all arose an undefined odour of biscuit, rum, soup, tobacco, cheese, soap, oil, combined with a close, musty, faint smell, peculiar to the cabins of small vessels. The absence of woman, washmg, and fresh water, was clearly to be noted in the dingy colour of the sheets, which might, however, have been whity-brown instead of somewhat dirty.

It required some little time to habituate the weak stomach of a landsman to the abominations of such dens as ships' cabins some thirty years back. But the force of habit is so great, that even the most delicate temperament will; during a long voyage, habituate itself to bear such invasion of its most sensitive of organs, and find, at the end of three months, nothing very remarkable about it. On the night in question there was now added to the other pleasures of the cabin a steam of wet coats, with a deafening dull roar of the sea against the planks of the ship. Then suddenly a distant roar would boom along the water, a fearful plunge would be heard, the watch would see a mass of spray and foam, a dull reverberating echo would be heard, and all knew that an iceberg had tilted over. Every now and then a huge wave would slap against the side, as if about to burst the frail rampart erected by the hand of man against its raging force.

All who have seen the wonders of the deep have been struck with amazement at the seeming disproportion between the power of the billows and the wooden machine that in so many instances rides safely on its foaming crest. The mind is almost necessarily well affected by the thought, and I think few have voyaged by sea without being more than ever struck with admiration at the cunning of man's hand, and the wondrous provisions of Providence for our employment and well-being. But both Henry and Captain Shipton were already too well accustomed to all that concerned a seafaring fife to feel at the moment much affected by any such influences. . They w'ere cold, wet, and hungry, and their first thought was for their supper. It consisted of cold salt pork, some potatoes and biscuit, washed down by rum diluted — the captain's with two-thirds water, the young man's with double the quantity of the somewhat doubtful liquid which replaces the purer element, one of man's chief blessings.

The captain was a little over forty, weather-beaten, fur rowed, and his short hair grey. His physiognomy was open and frank, and remarkably intelligent. His grey eyes looked quick-sighted and sharp ; his mouth was somewhat severe in expression, though in general a smile sat on his countenance. He was now, however, serious, and the general tone of his physiognomy was grave. Henry Maynard was a young man of about one-and twenty. A little above the middle height, with an oval face, nearly black hair, dark-brown eyes, his appearance was winning in the extreme. With in general a thoughtful brow, and a countenance of marked intellectual character, he won more by the sweet ness of expression round his mouth than even by his mental powers. When he spoke all were charmed, for he had one of the greatest personal advantages that fall to a man — a good voice.

Adventurous, bold, firm, industrious, fond of study, he seemed out of place in the cabin of a whaling vessel ; yet he wore the costume of a sailor, and was, indeed, chief mate of the Fair Fanny. What reasons had induced a young man of education and refinement to adopt this mode of fife will by-and-by be seen. " And pray, Mr. Maynard," said the captain, as they sat over their frugal meal, " what begin you to think of Polar researches, whaling, and so forth ?" " That it is, as I expected, hard work ; more storms than Henry's Story. 13 calms, and plenty of harder work in store," replied the young man, catching at his berth, as a fearful lurch of the vessel nearly pitched him across the table to where the captain sat. " You may say that, Master Maynard. We've had pretty plain sailing as yet, and have got upon whaling ground right quickly ; but not a whale have we seen, and the men begin to fancy, I hear, we shall have but sorry luck," and the skipper looked curiously at the young man.

" You know, Captain Shipton, that, in reality, whaling is a secondary object wath us ; that we certainly hope to pay part of our expenses with the proceeds of our fishing, but that I am here with other designs." " I know it, Mr. Maynard, or else why have you left your father's house, your fair future bride, and all the comforts and luxuries of an English home ? For myself, I'm a poor man, and sail to get bread for my wife and little ones — God bless them ! — but with you it's another thing. I'm not a scholar, but I've had a better education than sailors generally; and still I can scarcely understand your motives, having every thing in the world at your command — wealth, a girl you love, a happy home, and God knows what besides." " Mr. Shipton, I am not sleepy. If you can spare me an horn-, I will, now that we are close upon the scene of action, explain to you fully how I come to be here, and w7hat are the motives which have guided me, at one-and-twenty, into the Polar Seas."

"I wall wake up the watch through," replied the skipper, filling a pipe, and speaking in a hearty tone, " to have this explained to me. Take a pipe, man — a sailor cannot five without it, and you know I cannot smoke alone." " To please you," said Henry Maynard, smiling, " I would take half-a-dozen whiffs ; but this is the last habit of the sea I shall learn, and as yet I cannot venture." And the young man sat down in his berth, his feet firmly fixed on the locker beneath, and began his story. As the reader is not aware of many particulars with which the worthy skipper was familiar, and which, therefore, the other omitted, we must ourselves narrate, in our own words, the young man's tale, adding what he passed over, often without mention. He was the only son of a wealthy merchant, who, in addition to a princely fortune gained by trade, possessed a fine estate in Devonshire, which, by a complication of circumstances, had become the inheritance of his wife.

Rich, and liberal in his views, and having an only chdd, he had lavished on him all the stores of knowledge which a refined mind could impart, with the aid of an extensive and well-chosen library, and the advice and guidance of a friend, the pastor of the parish, near which the mansion of the landlord-merchant was situated. Inhabiting Plymouth, for there was his house of business, Mr. Maynard left his wife and child almost always at his country-house, riding out in the evening on horseback to dinner. Business over, the pleasures of the merchant were his family, his garden, and his books. In the society of his wife and child he found more delight thau in the wider circles which he also often frequented, being neither a hermit nor a misanthrope ; he would talk with them, walk with them, or while they pursued their occupations or amusements, would read.

The tastes of the young hero of Petershill were early de veloped. A pond, or rather lake, at the extremity of the lawn was perpetually covered by boats and ships, made for him by a retired sailor, one Timothy Stop, who, having served his father well, on board one of his vessels, and having lost a leg, had been sent down to Petershill under the pretence of being a servant, but, in reality, there to end his days in honourable retirement. With this taste arose very soon a devouring love of books and travels. Henry would learn his allotted tasks with avidity, that, this over, he might invade the library, and there, taking down Cook, or Hakluyt, or Frobisher, or Barentz, gloat like a miser over his treasure. His father, so that he learned his regular lessons, and took a fixed amount of exercise, never interfered with his love for books.

He even saw with pleasure his son studying a class of works which, to the future merchant prince, must be emi nently useful — no man who trades with the whole world Henry's Story. 15 having to fear too much knowledge of the countries he deals with. In fact, it was a marked neglect of this necessary educa tion which, in days gone by, caused so many unfortunate speculations. Henry rose at six to go forth in the park to walk. He in general took Stop with him and returned to Peters hill to breakfast at eight. It was in the May of the year which saw his tenth birthday, when one day — it was a holiday, and his mother had slept in town — he entered the library at daybreak, searched over the shelves, and presently, impatient at not finding what he wanted, took a work at random from the singularity of its name.

Then he went out alone, and disappeared behind a small wood opposite the house, a portion of which was still as wild as when the park had been reclaimed from the hand of Nature. A hill, covered with bushes, briars, and wild flowers, stood in the centre, reached only by winding paths through the the wood, somewhat rough for gentle feet. This was Henry's favourite retreat. At eight o'clock he had not yet returned ; but as he was supposed to have gone dow7n to Plymouth to meet his father and mother, no one searched for him, and it was only at five that, pale, excited, his eyes fixed as if he had seen some wild beast, he returned to the house, faint with hunger and thirst. He was asked by his father where he had been, and simply replied that he had spent the day at the retreat reading, and no further questions were made, though his father begged him not to forget his meals another time, as such neglect was unwholesome.

He dined with them almost in silence, a novelty wrhich was ascribed to his being languid from want of nourishment so long. " I think you had better go and take a quiet walk, Henry," said his mother, when the dinner was over. " Take Stop with you and be back to tea. But mind, don't run or heat yourself ; you are quite feverish." " Thank you, mamma, the air will do me good," he re plied, and nodding his little thoughtful head to his parents, he moved quietly out of the room. A few minutes later they saw him, with Stop by his side, walking quietly along the lawn towards his favourite wood, a book under his arm. " That boy has a wonderful taste for reading," said the father. " By-and-by, I must take him into town, and give him a little change." " I fancy he looks a little poorly lately. But Stop can take him out a little more, and I will get him to ride beside me on horseback, instead of sitting in the carriage of an afternoon,' ' said Mrs. Maynard in reply.

" You will do well, my love," replied the husband, who then, as usual, walked out into the open balcony, to admire the quiet prospect before him. Early next morning, and for about a month after, Harry and Stop went out regularly every morning, returned about ten, as they now took their breakfast of milk and fresh bread-and-butter with them. At that hour they would come back, wash and clean them selves, and separate, Harry to his studies, and Stop to mend a boat, or do some little odd job for his beloved young master. Their four hours of regular absence at length excited in the most lively manner the curiosity of Mr. and Mrs. May nard, and one bright June morning they sallied forth, arm in-arm, on an exploring expedition. They wended their way at once towards the wood, and entered it by a narrow path ; then, guided by voices to the favourite retreat, advanced a little further, to stand still a few minutes later in mute astonishment.

The scene was one which both understood at a glance. The youth and his ancient comrade had chosen a side of a hill where bushes and weeds overhung a small hollow ; all this had been cleared away, and the cave been increased in size. Around was a hut, built with stakes, boughs, and thatch. This had a small door, while inside could be clearly seen two old kitchen chairs and a table. Henry's Story. 17 About six yards in front of the hut were stakes driven into the ground, so as completely to shut up all access to the cave ; but a ladder allowed any one to get over who had business within. Mimic cannon guarded two loopholes, and a goat wandered around, tethered to a tree. Sawing a plank was honest Timothy Stop, while Harry — an old umbrella over his head, a child's gun on his shoulder, a queer peaked hat on his head, a pair of horse pistols in his girdle, a rusty hanger by his side — was, from a book he held in his hand, giving directions and commands.

" Now, Master Friday," said he, suddenly, " you may have your breakfast ; I myself feel hungry." " Yes, Master Robinson," replied Stop ; " but first let us give the goat her second meal." And honest Tim Stop, while Harry laid on a plank his umbrella, gun, and a volume, which all doubtless know to be " Robinson Crusoe," turned to feed the tame goat, which Mrs. Maynard recognised as one of her petted favourites. The father drew his wife back gently, and led her aw7ay without a word. When they were without the wood was the first time he attempted to speak. " But why did you come away so silently ? " asked his wife. " Because, my dear Helen, he looked so happy ; and for the world I w7ould not have disturbed bis felicity. This is, perhaps, the happiest moment of his life. He fives in a world of his own creation.

I can understand his feelings. ' Robinson Crusoe ' is, perhaps, the most fascinating book for boys in the whole world. You, a woman, can scarcely understand it." Mrs. Maynard silently acquiesced, and for some time no notice was taken of young Robinson and his faithful man, Friday. At last, however, the devotion of the lad to this one idea became less great ; he read other books more fre quently — still voyages and travels, and narratives of ad venture by sea and land. Mr. Maynard then made allusion to his harmless amusement. " And so, Master Crusoe," said he, laughing, " you have got tired of your island and cave." "What, papa ! did you know ? " replied the boy, blushing crimson. " Yes, my son ; this three months have I known it, and so has your mother," continued Mr. Maynard. " You never scolded me," said Henry, with glistening eyes.