From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People — Sec 23 The North Polar Regions

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN AND THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE

We have now surveyed the earth's mainland, islands, and seas.

We have seen how man by his endurance and thirst for knowledge has penetrated everywhere, how he has wandered over the hottest deserts and the coldest mountains.

The nearer we come to our own times, the more eager have explorers become, and we no longer suffer blank patches to exist on our maps.

The most obstinate resistance to the advance of man has been presented by the Poles and their surroundings, where the margin of the eternal ice seems to call out a peremptory "Thus far shalt thou come, but no farther."

But even the boundless ice-packs could not deter the bold and resolute seafarers.

One vessel after another was lost, crew and all, but the icy sea was constantly ploughed by fresh keels.

The North Pole naturally exercised the greater attraction, for it lies nearer to Europe, amidst the Arctic Ocean, which is enclosed between the coasts of Asia, Europe, and North America.

In the "forties" of last century, English and American explorers were occupied in searching for a north-west passage, or a navigable channel for vessels making by the shortest route from the North Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean.

Let us look at the story of a famous expedition which set out to find this passage.

Sir John Franklin was an officer in the Royal Navy.

He had led expeditions by land and sea, in both the northern and southern hemispheres, and in particular had mapped considerable areas of the north coast of America east of Behring Strait.

Most of the coast of the mainland was thus known, and it remained only to find a channel between the large islands to the north of it.

Such a passage must exist, but whether it was available for navigation was another question.

A number of learned and experienced men decided to send out a large and well-furnished expedition for the purpose of effecting the north-west passage.

The whole English people took up the scheme with enthusiasm.

Hundreds of courageous men volunteered for the voyage, and Admiral Sir John Franklin was appointed leader of the expedition, from which neither he nor any of his subordinates was ever to return.

[Illustration: THE NORTH POLAR REGIONS.

] The ships chosen were the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, which (as we shall see later) had already made a voyage to South Polar regions, and which were now refitted from keel to topmasts.

Captain Crozier was the second in command and captain of the _Terror_, while Franklin hoisted his flag on the _Erebus_, where Captain James was under him.

The members of the expedition were chosen with the greatest care, and when they were all mustered, the vessels had on board twenty-three officers and a hundred and eleven men.

Provisions were taken for three years, and the vessels were fitted with small auxiliary engines, which had never before been tried in Polar seas.

The constituted authorities drew up a plan which Franklin was to follow, but he was left free to act as he thought proper when circumstances demanded alterations.

The main thing was to sail north of America from the Atlantic side and come out into the Pacific Ocean through Behring Strait.

The _Erebus_ and _Terror_ left England on May 19, 1845. All officers and men were full of the most lively expectations of success, and were resolved to do all in their power to achieve the object of the expedition.

They passed the Orkney Islands and on Midsummer Day saw the southern extremity of Greenland, Cape Farewell, disappear to windward.

Next day they encountered the first ice, huge floating icebergs of wild, jagged form or washed into rounded lumps by the action of the waves, and ten days later the ships anchored near Disko Island, on the west coast of Greenland.

Here they met another vessel which had come up north with an additional store of provisions and equipment.

Its captain, the last man who spoke with Franklin and the members of the expedition, said that he had never seen a finer set of men so well prepared and so eager for their work.

He thought that they could go anywhere.

On July 26 the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were seen, for the last time, by an English whaler.

After that day the fate of the most unfortunate of all Polar expeditions was involved in an obscurity much denser than that which surrounded Gordon in Khartum after the telegraph line was cut.

What is known only came to light many years later through the relief expeditions that were sent out, or was communicated by parties of wandering Eskimos.

Meanwhile the voyage was continued north-westwards between two large islands into Lancaster Sound.

Soon progress was delayed by masses of pack ice, and the engines were found to be so weak that they could be used only in smooth, open water.

In another sound, to the north, the water was open, and here the ships managed to sail 150 miles before the ice set fast again.

Then they passed through another open sound back to the south.

Early autumn had now come, and all the hills and mountains were covered with snow and fresh ice was forming in the sound.

Here Franklin laid the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ up for the winter, having found fairly sheltered anchorage at a small island.

What kind of life the men led on board during the long winter we do not know.

We can only conjecture that the officers read and studied, and that the men were employed in throwing up banks of snow reaching up above the bulwarks to keep in the warmth; that snow huts were built on the ice and on land for scientific observations; and that a hole was kept open day and night that water might always be procurable in case of fire when the pumps were frozen into pillars of ice.

When the long night was over and February came with a faint illumination to the south, and when the sky grew brighter day by day till at last the expedition welcomed the return of the sun, probably men and officers made excursions to the neighbouring islands to hunt.

Their hopes revived with the increasing light.

Only 260 miles of unknown coast remained of the north-west passage, and they believed that the New Year would see them return home.

The sun remained longer and longer above the horizon, and at last the long Polar day commenced.

When the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were released in late summer from their prison of ice, and the small island could at last be left, three sailors remained on the beach.

Their gravestones, carved with a few simple words, were found five years later by a relief expedition, and they constitute the only proof that Franklin wintered at this particular spot.

To the south lay an open channel, and this southern passage must in time bend to the west.

Mile after mile the vessels sailed southwards, carefully avoiding the drifting ice.

East and west were seen the coasts of islands, and in front, in the distance, could be descried King William Land, a large island which is the nearest neighbour to the mainland.

The north-west passage was nearly accomplished, for it was now only about 120 miles westward to coasts already known.

How hopelessly long this distance seemed, however, when the vessels were caught in the grip of the ice only a day or two later!

Firmer and firmer the ice froze and heaped itself up round the _Erebus_ and _Terror_; the days became shorter, the second winter drew on with rapid strides, and preparations to meet it were made as in the preceding year.

The vessels lay frozen in on the seventieth parallel, or a little south of the northernmost promontory of Scandinavia; but here there was no Gulf Stream to keep the sea open with its warm water.

Little did the officers and crew suspect that the waves would never again splash round the hulls of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_.

We can well believe that they were not so cheerful this winter as in the former.

The vessels were badly placed in the ice, in an open roadstead without the shelter of a coast.

They lay as in a vice, and the hulls creaked and groaned under the constant pressure.

Life on board such an imprisoned vessel must be full of unrest.

The vessel seems to moan and complain, and pray that it may escape to the waves again.

The men must wonder how long it will hold out, and must be always prepared for a deafening crash when the planks will give way and the ship, crushed like a nutshell, will sink at once.

But worst of all is the darkness when the sun sets for the last time.

However, the winter passed at last, and the sun came back.

It grew gradually light in the passages below deck, and it was no longer necessary to light a candle to read by in the evening.

Soon there was no night at all, but the sun shone the whole twenty-four hours, and all the brighter because the vessels were surrounded by nothing but ice and snow.

Far to the south and east were seen the hills on King William Land.

If only the ice would release its hold and begin to drift!

But the pack-ice still remained to the westward, and it was possible of course that the vessels had been damaged by the pressure.

Two officers with six men undertook a journey to the south coast of King William Land, whence the mainland of North America could be descried in clear weather.

At their turning-point they deposited in a cairn a narrative of the most important events that had happened on board up to date.

This small document was found many years after.

The little party returned with good news and bright hopes, but found sorrow on the ships.

Admiral Franklin lay on his deathbed.

The suspense had lasted too long for him.

He just heard that the north-west passage had been practically discovered, and died a few days later, in June, 1847. This was fortunate for him.

His life had been a career of manliness and courage, and he might well go to sleep with a smile of victory on his lips.

But we can imagine the gloom cast upon the expedition by the death of its leader.

It was now the season when the ice begins to move, and open water may be expected.

No doubt they made excursions in all directions to find out where the surge of the salt sea was nearest.

Perhaps they resorted to ice saws and powder to get out, but in vain; the ice held them fast.

However, they were delighted to find that the whole pack was moving southwards.

Could they reach the mainland in this way?

A great American company, named after Hudson's Bay, had small trading-posts far in the north.

If they could only reach one of them they would be saved.

Autumn came on, and their hope of getting free was disappointed.

To try and reach the mainland now when winter was approaching was not to be thought of, for in winter no game is to be found in these endless wastes, and a journey southwards meant therefore death by starvation.

In summer, on the other hand, there was a prospect of falling in with reindeer and musk oxen, those singular Polar animals as much like sheep as oxen, which live on lichens and mosses and do not wander farther south than the sixtieth parallel.

In the western half of North America the southern limit of the musk ox coincides with the northern limit of trees.

A herd of twenty or thirty musk oxen would have saved Franklin's distressed mariners.

If they could only have found Polar bears, or, even better, seals or whales, with their thick layer of blubber beneath the hide; and Arctic hares would not have been despised if in sufficient numbers!

But the season was too far advanced, and the wild animals had retreated before the cold and the abundant snow which covered their scanty food.

No doubt the officers deliberated on the plan they should adopt.

They had maps and books on board and knew fairly accurately how far they had to travel to the nearest trading-posts of the Hudson's Bay Company, and on the way they had every prospect of finding game and meeting Eskimos.

It was decided to pass the third winter on board.

The cold increased day by day, and the length of the days became shorter.

The sun still rose, described a flat arch to the south, and sank after an hour and a half.

Soon the days lasted only half an hour, until one day they had only a glimpse of the sun's upper curve glittering for a moment like a flashing ruby above the horizon.

Next day there was twilight at noon, but at any rate there was a reflection of the sunset red.

During the following weeks the gloominess became more and more intense.

At noon, however, there was still a perceptible light, and the blood-red streak appeared to the south, throwing a dull purple tinge over the ice-pack.

Then this dim illumination faded away also, and the Polar night, which at this latitude lasts sixty days and at the North Pole itself six months, was come, and the stars sparkled like torches on the bluish-black background even when the bell struck midday in the officers' mess.

Those who for the first time winter in high northern latitudes find a wonderful charm even in the Polar night.

They are astonished at the deep silence in the cold darkness, at the rushing, moaning howl of the snowstorms, and even at the overwhelming solitude and the total absence of life.

Nothing, however, excites their astonishment and admiration so much as the "northern lights."

We know that the magnetic and electric forces of the earth time after time envelop practically the whole globe in a mantle of light, but this mysterious phenomenon is still unexplained.

Usually the aurora is inconstant.

It flashes out suddenly, quivers for a moment in the sky, and then grows pale and vanishes.

Most lasting are the bow-shaped northern lights, which sometimes stretch their milk-white arches high above the horizon.

It may be that only one half of the arch is visible, rising like a pillar of light over the field of vision.

Another time the aurora takes the form of flames and rays, red below and green above, and darting rapidly over the sky.

Farther north the light is more yellowish.

If groups of rays seem to converge to the same point, they are described as an auroral crown.

Beautiful colours change quickly in these bundles of rays, but exceedingly seldom is the light as strong as that of the full moon.

The light is grandest when it seems to fall like unrolled curtains vertically down, and is in undulating motion as though it fluttered in the wind.

To the sailors in the ice-bound ships, however, the northern lights had lost their fascination.

Enfeebled and depressed, disgusted with bad provisions, worn out with three years' hardships, they lay on their berths listening to the ticking of their watches.

The only break in their monotonous existence was when a death occurred.

The carpenter had plenty of work, and Captain Crozier knew the funeral service by heart.

Nine officers and eleven of the crew died during the last two winters, and certainly a far greater number in the third.

This we know from a small slip of paper well sealed up and deposited in a cairn on the coast, which was found eleven years afterwards.

At length the months of darkness again came to an end.

The red streak appeared once more in the south, and it gradually grew lighter.

Twilight followed in the footsteps of darkness, and at last the first sun's rays glistened above the horizon.

Then the men awakened once more to new hope; Brahmins on the bank of the Ganges never welcomed the rising sun with more delight.

With increasing daylight came greater opportunity and disposition to work.

Several sledges were made ready, heavy and clumsy, but strong.

Three whale-boats, which for three years had hung fast frozen to the davits, were loosened and hauled on to the ice.

The best of the provisions still remaining in the store-room were taken out, and great piles of things were raised round the boats.

When everything to be taken was down on the ice, the stores, tents, instruments, guns, ammunition, and all the other articles were packed on the sledges.

The three whale-boats were bound with ropes, each on a separate sledge, and a sledge with a comfortable bed was assigned to the invalids.

During all this work the days had grown longer, and at last the men could no longer control their eagerness to set out.

This early start sealed their fate, for neither game nor Eskimos come up so far north till the summer is well advanced, and even with the sledges fully laden, their provisions would last only forty days.

On April 22, 1848, the signal for departure was given, and the heavy sledges creaked slowly and in jerks over the uneven snow-covered ice.

Axes, picks, and spades were constantly in use to break to pieces the sharp ridges and blocks in the way.

The distance to King William Land was only 15 miles, yet it took them three days to get there.

The masts and hulls of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ grew smaller all too slowly, but they vanished at last.

Captain Crozier perceived that it was impossible to proceed in this manner, so all the baggage was looked through again and every unnecessary article was discarded.

At this place one of the relief expeditions found quantities of things, uniform decorations, brass buttons, metal articles, etc. , which no doubt had been thought suitable for barter with Eskimos and Indians.

With lightened sledges, they marched on along the west coast.

They had not travelled far when John Irving, lieutenant on the _Terror_, died.

Dressed in his uniform, wrapped in sailcloth, and with a silk handkerchief round his head, he was interred between stones set on end and covered with a flat slab.

On his head was laid a silver medal with an inscription on the obverse side, "Second prize in Mathematics at the Royal Naval College.

Awarded to John Irving, Midsummer, 1830." Owing to the medal the deceased officer was identified long after, and so in time was laid to rest in his native town.

Two bays on the west coast of King William Land have been named after the unfortunate ships.

At the shore of the northern, Erebus Bay, the strength of the English seamen was so weakened that they had to abandon two of the boats, together with the sledges on which they had been drawn so far uselessly.

At their arrival at Terror Bay the bonds of comradeship were no longer strong enough to keep the party together, or it may be that they agreed to separate.

They were now less than a hundred men.

At any rate, they divided into two parties, probably of nearly equal strength.

The one, which evidently consisted of the more feeble, turned back towards the ships, where at least they would obtain shelter against wind and weather, and where there were provisions left.

The other continued along the south coast with the whale-boat, and intended to cross to the mainland and try to reach the Great Fish River.

No doubt, when they had been succoured themselves, they meant to return to their distressed comrades.

Terrible must have been the march of the returning party, and terrible also that of those who went on.

Of the former we know next to nothing.

The latter marched and marched, dragging their heavy sledges after them till they died one after another.

There was no longer any thought of burying the dead.

Every one had to take care of himself.

If a dying man lagged behind, the others could not stop on his account.

Some died as they were walking: this was proved afterwards by the skeletons which were found lying on their faces.

Not a trace of game was found in May and June on the island, and they dragged their heavy ammunition boxes and guns to no purpose, not firing a shot.

Now the small remnant waited only for open water to cross the sound to the mainland.

At the beginning of June the ice broke up, and it may be taken for granted that at this time the survivors actually crossed, for the boat was afterwards found in a bay called Starvation Cove.

If only the boat had been found here, it might have been drifted over by wind and waves; but skeletons and articles both in and outside the boat were found, showing that it was manned when it passed over the sound and when it landed.

Many circumstances connected with this sad journey are mysterious.

Why did the men drag the heavy whale-boat with them for two months when they must have seen the mainland to the south the year before, on the excursion which they undertook when the Admiral was lying on his deathbed?

Where the sound is narrowest it is only three miles broad;

and, besides, they could have crossed anywhere on the ice.

But as all died and as not a line in a diary came to light, we know nothing about it.

When no news was heard of Franklin after two years, the first relief expeditions were sent out.

Time passed, and it became still more certain that he was in need of help.

In the autumn of 1850 fifteen ships were on the outlook for him.

The most courageous and energetic of all, who for years would not give up hope of seeing him again, was Franklin's wife.

She spent all her means in relief work.

In the course of six years the English Government disbursed £890,000 in relief expeditions.

Most of them were useless, for when they set out the disaster had already taken place.

One expedition which sailed in 1848 was caught in the ice, and resorted to a singular means of sending information to the distressed men, wherever they might be.

About a hundred foxes were caught and fitted with brass collars, in which a short description of the position of the relief ship was engraved, and then the foxes were let loose again.

In 1854 the names of Franklin, Crozier, and all the other men were removed from the muster roll of the Royal Navy.

A statue of Franklin was set up in his native town, and a memorial of marble was erected in Westminster Abbey with the words of Tennyson: Not here!

the white North has thy bones; and thou Heroic sailor-soul, Art passing on thine happier voyage now Toward no earthly pole.

THE VOYAGE OF THE "VEGA"

A brilliant remembrance of the Arctic Ocean is the pride of the Swedes.

The north-west passage had been discovered by Englishmen; but the north-east passage, which for 350 years had been attempted by all seafaring nations, was not yet achieved.

By a series of voyages to Spitzbergen, Greenland, and the Yenisei, Adolf Nordenskiöld had made himself an experienced Polar voyager.

He perfected a scheme to sail along the north coasts of Europe and Asia and through the Behring Strait out into the Pacific Ocean.

His plan, then, was nothing less than to circumnavigate Asia and Europe, an exploit which had never been performed and which the learned declared to be impossible.

It was thought that the ice-pack always lay pressed up against the Siberian coast, rendering it impossible to get past; parts had been already sailed along and stretches of coasts were known, but to voyage all the way to the Behring Strait was out of the question.

Now Nordenskiöld reasoned that the ice must begin to drift in summer, and leave an open channel close to the land.

The great Siberian rivers, the Obi, the Yenisei, and the Lena, bring down volumes of warm water from southern regions into the Arctic Ocean.

As this water is fresh, it must spread itself over the heavier sea water, and must form a surface current which keeps the ice at a distance and the passage open.

Along the ice-free coast a vessel could sail anywhere and pass out into the Pacific Ocean before the end of summer.

Accordingly he made ready for a voyage in which the _Vega_ was to sail round Asia and Europe and carry his name to the ends of the earth.

The _Vega_ was a whaler built to encounter drift ice in the northern seas.

A

staff of scientific observers was appointed, and a crew of seventeen Swedish men-of-war's men were selected.

The _Vega_ was to be the home of thirty men, and provisions were taken for two years.

Smaller vessels were to accompany her for part of the voyage, laden with coal.

The _Vega_ left Carlskrona in June, 1878, and steamed along the coast of Norway, past the North Cape, towards the east.

The islands of Novaia Zemlia were left behind, the waters of the Obi and Yenisei splashed against the hull, no drift ice opposed the passage of the Swedish vessel, and on August 19 Cape Cheliuskin, the most northern point of the Old World, was reached.

Farther east the coast was followed to Nordenskiöld Sea.

Great caution was necessary, for the fairway was shallow, and the _Vega_ often steamed across bays which were represented as land on maps.

The delta of the Lena was left behind, and to the east of this only small rivers enter the sea.

Nordenskiöld therefore feared that the last bit of the voyage would be the hardest, for open water along the coast could not be depended upon.

At the end of August the most westerly of the group called the New Siberia Islands was sighted.

The _Vega_ could not go at full speed, for the sea was shallow, and floating fragments of ice were in the way.

The prospects became brighter again, however, open water stretching for a long distance eastwards.

On September 6 two large skin boats appeared, full of fur-clad natives who had rowed out from land.

All the men on the _Vega_, except the cook, hastened on deck to look at these unexpected visitors of Chukchi race.

They rushed up the companion ladder, talking and laughing, and were well received, being given tobacco, Dutch clay pipes, old clothes, and other presents.

None of the _Vega_ men understood a word they said, but the Chukchis chattered gaily all the same, and with their hands full of presents tumbled down to their boats again and rowed home.

Two days later the _Vega_ was in the midst of ice and fog, and had to be moored to a floe near land.

Then came more Chukchis, who pulled the Swedes by the collar and pointed to the skin tents on land.

The invitation was accepted with pleasure by several of the _Vega_ men, who rowed to land and went from tent to tent.

In one of them reindeer meat was boiling in a cast-iron pot over the fire.

Outside another two reindeer were being cut up.

Each tent contained an inner sleeping-room of deerskin, which was lighted and warmed by lamps of train oil.

There played small stark-naked children, plump and chubby as little pigs, and sometimes they ran in the same light attire out over the rime between the tents.

The tiniest were carried, well wrapped up in furs, on the backs of their fathers and mothers, and whatever pranks they played these small wild cats never heard a harsh word from their elders.

The next day the _Vega_ tried to continue her voyage, but the fog was too dense, and the shelter of a mass of ground ice had again to be sought.

Nordenskiöld was, however, sure of gaining the Pacific Ocean in a short time, and when fresh visitors came on board he distributed tobacco and other presents among them with a lavish hand.

He also distributed a number of _krona_[21] pieces and fifty earrings which, if any misfortune happened to the _Vega_, would serve to show her course.

During the following days the ice closed up and fog lay dense over the sea.

Only now and then could the vessel sail a short distance, and then was stopped and had to moor again.

On September 18 the vessel glided gently and cautiously between huge blocks of grounded ice like castle walls and towers of glass.

Here patience and great care were necessary, for the coast was unknown and there was frequently barely a span of water beneath the keel.

The captain stood on the bridge, and wherever there was a gap between the ice-blocks he made for it.

It was only possible to sail in the daytime, and at night the _Vega_ lay fastened by her ice anchors.

One calm and fine evening some of our seafarers went ashore and lighted an enormous bonfire of driftwood.

Here they sat talking of the warm countries they would sail past for two months.

They were only a few miles from the easternmost extremity of Asia at Behring Strait.

The _Vega_ had anchored on the eastern side of Koliuchin Bay.

It was September 28. Newly formed ice had stretched a tough sheet between the scattered blocks of ground ice, and to the east lay an ice-belt barely six miles broad.

If only a south wind would spring up, the pack would drift northwards, and the last short bit of the north-east passage would be traversed.

But the Fates decreed otherwise.

No wind appeared, the temperature fell, and the ice increased in thickness.

If the _Vega_ had come a few hours sooner, she would not have been stopped on the very threshold of the Pacific Ocean.

And how easily might these few hours have been saved during the voyage!

The _Vega_ was entrapped so unexpectedly in the ice that there was not even time to look for safe and sheltered winter quarters.

She lay about a mile from the coast exposed to the northern storms.

Under strong ice pressure she might easily drift southwards, run aground, capsize, or be crushed.

The ice-pack became heavier in all directions, and by October 10 the Chukchis were able to come out on foot to the vessel.

Preparations were made for the winter.

High banks of snow were thrown up around, and on the deck a thick layer of snow was left to keep the heat in.

From the bridge to the bow was stretched a large awning, under which the Chukchis were received daily.

It was like a market-place, and here barter trade was carried on.

A collection of household utensils, implements of the chase, clothes, and indeed everything which the northern people made with their own hands, was acquired during the winter.

The _Vega_ soon became quite a rendezvous for the three hundred Chukchis living in the neighbourhood, and one team of dogs after another came daily rushing through the snow.

They had small, light sledges drawn by six to ten dogs, shaggy and strong, but thin and hungry.

The dogs had to lie waiting in the snow on the ice while their masters sat bargaining under the large awning.

At every baking on board special loaves were made for the native visitors, who would sit by the hour watching the smith shaping the white hot iron on his anvil.

Women and children were regaled with sugar and cakes, and all the visitors went round and looked about just as they liked on the deck, where a quantity of articles, weapons, and utensils lay about.

Not the smallest trifle disappeared.

The Chukchis were honest and decent people, and the only roguery they permitted themselves was to try and persuade the men of the _Vega_ that a skinned and decapitated fox was a hare.

When it grew dusk the fur-clad Polar savages went down the staircase of ice from the deck, put their teams in order, took their seats in the sledges, and set off again over the ice to their tents of reindeer skins.

The winter was stormy and severe.

Clouds of snow swept over the ice, fine and dry as flour.

Again and again the cold scene was lighted up by the arcs of the aurora.

In the middle of December the planks in the sides of the _Vega_ cracked as the ice pressed against her.

If the pressure had been bad, the vessel might have been broken to pieces and have sunk in a few minutes.

It would not have been so serious for the crew as in the case of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, for here there were people far and near.

But to ensure a safe retreat, the men of the _Vega_ carried to the nearest shore provisions, guns, and ammunition to last a hundred men for thirty days.

These things were all stacked up into a heap covered with sails and oars.

No watch was kept at the depôt, and though the Chukchis knew that valuable goods lay under the sails, they never touched a thing.

Near the _Vega_ two holes were kept always open.

In one the captain observed the rise and fall of the tide; the other was for water in case of fire.

A small seal splashed for a long time in one of the holes and came up on to the ice after fishing below.

One day his retreat was cut off and he was caught and brought up on deck.

When fish bought from the Chukchis had been offered him in vain, he was let loose in the hole again and he never came back.

A house of ice was erected for the purpose of observing the wind and weather, and a thermometer cage was set up on the coast.

Men took turns to go out, and each observer remained six hours at the ice-house and the cage to read off the various instruments.

It was bitterly cold going out when the temperature fell to-51°, but the compulsory walk was beneficial.

One danger was that a man might lose his way when snowstorms raged in the dark winter nights, so a line was stretched the whole way, supported on posts of ice, and with this guide it was impossible to go astray.

Then came Christmas, when they slaughtered two fat pigs which had been brought on purpose.

The middle deck was swept out, all the litter was cleared away, and flags were hung round the walls and ceiling.

The Chukchis brought willow bushes from the valleys beyond the mountains to the south, and branches were fastened round a trunk of driftwood.

This was the _Vega's_ Christmas tree, and it was decked with strips of coloured paper and small wax candles.

Officers and men swung round in merry dance beneath flaming lanterns suspended from the roof.

Two hundred Christmas boxes were found packed on board, parting gifts of friends and acquaintances.

For these lots were drawn, and many amusing surprises excited general hilarity.

So the polka was danced on the deck, while cold reigned outside and snow whizzed through the frozen rigging.

For supper there was ham and Christmas ale, just as at home in Sweden.

Old well-known songs echoed through the saloon, and toasts were given of king and country, officers and men, and the fine little vessel which had carried our Vikings from their home in the west to their captivity in the shore ice of Siberia.

The winter ran its course and the days lengthened in the spring.

Cold and continual storms were persistent.

Even a Chukchi dog can have too much of them.

One day at the end of February a Chukchi who had lost his way came on board, carrying a dog by the hind legs.

The man had lost his way on the ice, and had slept out in the cold with his dog.

A capital dinner was served for him on the middle deck, and the dog was rolled about and pommelled till he came to life again.

During the spring the _Vega_ explorers made several longer or shorter excursions with dog sledges and visited all the villages in the country.

Of course they became the best of friends with the Chukchis.

The language was the difficulty at first, but somehow or other they learned enough of it to make themselves understood.

Even the sailors struggled with the Chukchi vocabulary, and tried to teach their savage friends Swedish.

One of the officers learned to speak Chukchi fluently, and compiled a dictionary of this peculiar language.

Summer came on, but the ground was not free from ice until July.

The _Vega_ still lay fast as in a vice.

On July 18 Nordenskiöld made ready for another excursion on land.

The captain had long had the engines ready and the boilers cleaned.

Just as they were sitting at dinner in the ward-room they felt the _Vega_ roll a little.

The captain rushed up on deck.

The pack had broken up and left a free passage open.

"Fire under the boilers!"