Eskimo Iron--A Mystery of 1818--Search and Failure--Peary and his Huskies--The Secret revealed--An Eskimo Legend--At the Iron Mountain--Removing the Trophies--A Ma.s.sive Giant--Attack and Defence--The Giant Objects--A Narrow Escape--Conquered.

When Captain Ross was in the Arctic regions in the year 1818, he encountered, in Melville Bay, a tribe of Eskimos who lived near Cape York, entirely cut off from communication with all other tribes, and who had not, so far as he could learn, ever met white men before. He was, therefore, astounded to find them in possession of iron implements.

These consisted of rudely made knives, the cutting edges of which were fashioned out of very hard iron; harpoons and spears, tipped with iron points. Questioning the natives as to how they had become possessed of the iron, they explained that it had been obtained from what they termed the "iron mountain" on the coast near the bay. Ross sought for the mountain, and tried to induce the Eskimo to tell him exactly where it was situated, but failed in each case. He secured some of the iron knives and spear heads, and, on his return to Great Britain, the articles were submitted to a.n.a.lysis, when the metal was found to contain a percentage of nickel mixed with the iron.

Considerable curiosity was excited over the matter, and every succeeding British exploration party proceeding to the Arctic kept a sharp lookout for any trace of iron in the possession of Eskimo which could not have been obtained from whalers or visiting ships, as well as making every inquiry in order to ascertain where the mysterious iron mountain was situated. In no instance were they successful, and the question where the Cape York Eskimo had obtained their supply of iron became one of the riddles of the North.

When Peary went to the neighbourhood of Cape York to establish the station from whence he started on his brilliant march across the ice-cap, he came closely in contact with the tribe of Eskimo living there. The members of this tribe, isolated from the world and out of communication with all their kindred tribes, were, he felt a.s.sured, the descendants of those with whom Ross was a.s.sociated earlier in the century. In his successive visits to the place Peary became on very friendly terms with the people, and gained their confidence in a way that no other explorer had yet done. This is hardly to be wondered at, when it is remembered that his presence among them, from time to time, raised them from the stress of hardship and poverty, often starvation itself, into a happy, well-to-do, and, for an Eskimo tribe, prosperous community. When he first went among them, the man who owned a wooden shaft for his harpoon was regarded as a rich man, while the woman who had a steel sail-needle was an heiress for whose hand the bravest and best strove in fierce rivalry. The possession of a gun was beyond the wildest dreams of the most imaginative, just as the possession of a steel knife was the highest glory to which ambition aspired. When Peary left his encampment, at the end of his first visit, the timber of the house and fittings left behind alone made the tribe wealthy, for they believed the world must have been ransacked to bring so much wood together; while the distribution of needles, knives, scissors, and such like trifles, changed the whole status of the people and made them rich beyond their fondest hopes.

On the next visit, Peary took some guns and ammunition for the leading men of the tribe, and there was then nothing they were not prepared to do for their benefactor. They worked, hunted, acted as guides, porters--anything, in fact, the white men wanted them to do. It was at this time Peary sought for information about the mysterious iron mountain, and, as may be expected, got it.

First he was told the story of the origin of the iron, a story they had had from their fathers, as those fathers, in their turn, had had it from theirs. The iron lay across the bay where a high peak stood out against the sky, pointing the way to the Saviksoahs. These--the "Iron Ones"--rested on the mountain where they had fallen, ages and ages ago, when they were thrown out of their village in the sky by Tornarsuk, the enemy. There were three of them, a man, a woman, and a dog. The man was deep in the ground, the woman partly so, and the dog lay on the surface.

As the woman fell, she sat up, and her head had first been seen. A strange tribe came over the ice one year and, in greed, broke off the head and sought to carry it away with them in their kayaks, so that they should have a store of the iron always with them. But Tornarsuk would not allow this to be, and as soon as the kayaks, lashed together to make them strong enough to carry the head, were out in deep water, the head plunged through them, sinking out of sight and smashing the kayaks so that the men who were in them barely escaped with their lives. After that no one tried to take away a larger supply of iron than they actually wanted for knives and harpoon tips. Later, when whaler and other ships came to the seas in the summer time, there was no need to go to the Saviksoahs for iron, though all the tribes knew where they were.

In the spring of 1894 Peary induced one of the tribe to lead him to the place where the Saviksoahs were. The journey led them to a hill, on the summit of which there was an overhanging ma.s.s of rock which justified the Eskimo description of it. Describing the discovery, Peary wrote: "After pa.s.sing some five hundred yards up a narrow valley, Tallakotteah began looking about until a bit of blue trap-rock, projecting above the snow, caught his eyes. Kicking aside the snow, he exposed more pieces, saying this was a pile of the stones used in pounding fragments from the iron mountain. He then indicated a spot four or five feet distant, as the location of the long-sought object. Returning to the sledge for the saw-knife, he began excavating the snow, and at last, after digging a pit, some three feet deep and five feet in diameter, just at 5.30 Sunday morning, May 27, 1894, the brown ma.s.s, rudely awakened from its winter sleep, found, for the first time in its cycles of existence, the eyes of a white man gazing upon it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ESKIMO ARMS AND TOOLS.

(a) Bow with Strings and Arrows. (b) Knives with Walrus Handles. (c) Lance for Walrus and Bear. (d) Harpoon for Sealing. (e) Stone Axe with Bone Handle. (f) Snow Knife with Walrus Teeth.]

This was "the woman," a ma.s.s of meteoric iron weighing, as was subsequently proved, three tons. Originally it was said to have been twice that size, the removal of the "head" having considerably reduced it, while in addition there had been generations of Eskimo chipping it for knives and spear tips. The amount of iron which had been broken from it in this way was shown by the pile of stones lying around it. The Eskimo maintained that these stones had all been brought there by the men who came for iron; but if that were true, the Saviksoah must have been chipped for ages, judging by the acc.u.mulation of stones.

About thirty yards away from the "woman" there lay the "dog," a smaller ma.s.s weighing only half a ton. The "man" was some miles away, as became his dignity and size, for he was found to be a mighty ma.s.s, one hundred tons in weight, rugged in form, and so intractable when attempts were made to move him, that his removal forms a tale so full of romance as almost to suggest fiction.

As it was late in the season when Peary's ship, the _Kite_, arrived, there was only time to remove the "woman" and the "dog," the "man" being located but untouched pending the return of another season. The removal of the "dog" did not offer any great difficulty, and the "woman" was levered out of the ground and conveyed to the ship on rollers without giving more than the ordinary amount of trouble experienced in handling heavy ma.s.ses of inert material. Not so the "man."

With the two smaller meteorites safely conveyed to New York, a return of the _Kite_ to Melville Island to effect the removal of the "man" was arranged. Accompanied by a party of scientists and an engineer, Peary sailed north the following year and immediately attacked the problem of excavating and placing on the _Kite_ the largest of the three ma.s.ses.

The exact size was not at the time known, but as soon as the work of excavation commenced it was obvious that the task in hand was much greater than was antic.i.p.ated. The portion first revealed was found to be four feet in length, two feet high, and one and a half feet broad. This, however, was merely a fin-like excrescence on the main ma.s.s, which, as the excavation proceeded, was shown to measure twelve feet long by eight feet in width, on the upper face, while a trench three feet round it did not reach to the base. It was then realised that the task of transferring such a huge ma.s.s from the place where it lay in the ground to the ship was one requiring great engineering skill and the use of appliances of much greater strength than the _Kite_ had brought with her. The ma.s.s was about three hundred yards from high-water mark and eighty feet above it. A shelf of rock ran out into the sea immediately below the spot where the meteorite reposed, and the water was sufficiently deep alongside the shelf to make it a natural pier or wharf where the ship could make fast for the ma.s.s to be loaded on board, when it had been moved from its resting-place and conveyed to the edge of the sea. While the rocky pier was all that could be desired from the point of view of loading, it was entirely unprotected from the ice which, in the early approach of winter, rapidly acc.u.mulated in the bay. It was clear, therefore, that the removal and shipment of the ma.s.s must be carried out with rapidity if all risk of disaster were to be avoided.

By the time the ma.s.s had been excavated and its full dimensions were revealed, the season was too far advanced for any serious attempt being made to get it on board the ship. It was estimated to weigh not less than one hundred tons, while the rugged and angular form it presented made it an extremely difficult object to handle. All the time available was devoted to making the preliminary arrangements for the definite work of removal in the following season, and, as soon as the ice began to gather in the bay, the _Kite_ sailed back to the south. The meteorite being so much larger than was antic.i.p.ated, a larger vessel than the _Kite_ was required to convey it to New York; it was also necessary to have still heavier appliances wherewith to handle it.

The following year, on board the _Hope_, Peary returned to the attack and set to work to carry off his treasure. With the aid of the male members of the Eskimo tribe, in addition to the men he had with him and the crew of the steamer, the plan of operations was commenced. As Peary wrote, in describing the experience: "The first thing to be done was to tear the heavenly visitor from its frozen bed of centuries, and, as it rose inch by inch under the resistless lift of the hydraulic jacks, gradually displaying its ponderous sides, it grew upon us as Niagara grows upon the observer, and there was not one of us unimpressed by the enormousness of this lump of metal. The expressions of the Eskimo about the Saviksoah (Great Iron) were low but earnest, and it, and the other wonderful 'Great Irons' (the jacks) which could tear it from its bed, awed them to the utmost."

When it was out of the nest where it had rested so long, the method adopted was to tilt it up from one side, by means of the jacks and steel cables, until it stood on end, and then to force it over until its own weight made it fall forward. The spectacle, as it fell, brought home to the onlookers the enormous power it represented. As it slowly moved, the stones lying immediately under it were ground into powder, and, as it lurched forward, the hard ma.s.ses of rock were rent and split, while a shower of sparks burst from the meteorite itself wherever it came in contact with a more than usually hard piece of rock. The irregularities in its form added to the difficulties, for it was almost impossible to secure firm holds for the jacks, and anything approaching a slip on the part of the ma.s.s was tantamount to death or destruction to any one within reach of it. Day and night the struggle went on, the ma.s.s seeming to resist every inch of the way, settling itself into awkward corners and crevices; cutting its way, as it fell, through the baulks of timber set to form a bed for it; bending and notching steel rails, when they were subst.i.tuted for the wood; and generally giving as much trouble as it was possible to give, almost to the extent of suggesting conscious design. Hard as every one worked to win, the meteorite proved too much for them, and it was only conveyed as far as the rocky pier where the ship lay ready to take it on board when the ice came drifting into the bay, and for another winter the meteorite had to be left in its frozen habitat.

"It was the last night of our stay at the island," Peary wrote, "a night of such savage wildness as is possible only in the Arctic regions....

The wild gale was howling out of the depths of Melville Bay through the _Hope's_ rigging and the snow was driving in horizontal lines. The white slopes of the hill down which the meteorite had been brought showed a ghastly grey through the darkness; the fire, round which the fur-clad forms of the Eskimo were grouped, spread its bright red glare for a short distance; a little to one side was a faint glow of light through the skin wall of a solitary tupik. Working about the meteorite was my own little party, and, in the foreground, the central figure, the _raison d'etre_ of it all, the 'Saviksoah,' the 'Iron Mountain,'

towering above the human figures about it and standing out, black and uncompromising. While everything else was buried in snow, the Saviksoah was unaffected. The great flakes vanished as they touched it, and the effect was very impressive. It was as if the giant were saying, 'I am apart from all things; I am heaven-born, and still carry in my heart some of the warmth of those long-gone days before I was hurled upon this frozen desert.' To strengthen this fancy that the meteorite still held some of its celestial fire and feeling, if a sledge, ill aimed in the darkness at wedge or block, chanced to strike it, a spouting jet of scintillating sparks lit the gloom, and a deep note, sonorous as a bell, a Polar tocsin, or the half-pained, half-enraged bellow of a lost soul, answered the blow."

Yet another year--1897--saw Peary again at work, this time with the meteorite ready alongside the natural wharf. It was the month of August that the _Hope_ made fast opposite the meteorite, but already the ice had begun to drift into the bay, as though even that were going to dispute the right of man to carry off the mighty trophy. Without loss of a day, work was commenced and a bridge of huge timbers was constructed along which to warp the ma.s.s from the sh.o.r.e on to the ship. The bridge completed, forty-eight hours were consumed in getting the ma.s.s on to it.

The pressure of its enormous weight put so great a strain on the woodwork that it visibly gave as the ma.s.s came on to it, and more than once a collapse seemed imminent. Once a slip of less than an inch upset the equilibrium of everything to such an extent that the stays and supports were apparently within an ace of giving way. It was a curious coincidence that this single slip occurred at a moment and a place where, had anything given way, there was nothing to prevent the ma.s.s rolling over the edge of the rock and sinking, presumably for ever, into deep water. As it turned out, the slip was taken up in time to avert disaster, and thereafter the ma.s.s was forced, slowly but surely, on to the deck of the ship.

The Eskimo were greatly disturbed at the spectacle of the meteorite pa.s.sing from the sh.o.r.e to the ship. They all left the vessel, saying that even if it was forced on to the deck, directly it arrived there it would smash its way through the vessel and plunge into the sea, carrying the ship and all on board with it. From the time work was recommenced on the task of removing the ma.s.s, storms and gales had persisted and the sun had not been seen. The Eskimo were, therefore, deeply impressed when, just as the Saviksoah reached the planking arranged for it above the main hold and the tackles were cast loose, the sun shone out, a ray falling from behind a cloud directly on the meteorite and changing it from the dull brown-hued ma.s.s into a gleaming bronze.

As though it had yielded itself to the inevitable, the meteorite gave no further trouble. It was gradually lowered into the hold and wedged so tightly into position that it was impossible for it to move, however much the ship rolled or pitched. Fortunate it was this work was so well done, for when the return journey was commenced the _Hope_ had to fight her way through a series of the most severe gales and storms that any on board had experienced. The meteorite had yielded, but the Spirit of the Arctic evidently had serious objections to it being carried off. But the years of persistent effort had won. The mysterious source of the ancient Eskimo iron had been discovered, and, at the same time, the greatest meteorite the world was known to contain was revealed. It was a fitting result that the trophy should be carried from the darkness of the Arctic into the light of civilisation.

CHAPTER XI

THE SECOND VOYAGE OF THE _FRAM_

Norwegian Enterprise--Mapping the Islands--Nearly Frozen--A Novel Warming-Pan--Eskimo Melody--Arctic Bull Fights--Death of the Doctor--Fire on the _Fram_--New Lands--Prehistoric People.

The expedition which formed the second visit of the _Fram_ to the Arctic regions was equipped by private Norwegian enterprise, and sailed from Larvick on June 24, 1898, the day known in Norway as St. Hans Day. The party consisted of sixteen, all told, under the command of Captain Sverdrup, who, with two other members of the party, were in the _Fram_ with Nansen on her previous voyage. The plan of operations was to proceed to the most southerly point of Greenland, sail to the north along the western coast to Smith Sound, where the ship was to push as far to the north as possible and form a headquarters, whence sledge expeditions were to be sent out in all directions to explore and survey the immediate locality, and, at the same time, to observe and record all natural phenomena of a scientific nature. As to the exact localities to which chief attention was to be paid, the commander of the expedition was to use his own judgment; but on one point the instructions were definite and emphatic--there was to be no attempt at a dash for the Pole.

On August 21 the _Fram_ reached a suitable place for winter quarters. On the way along the Greenland coast the explorers had to take on board dogs for the sledge teams, and also to obtain a store of walrus meat wherewith to feed them, so that it was not until the date mentioned they were able to reach Rice Strait, which afforded them all the facilities they needed for winter quarters. As Peary was already to the north, engaged in mapping out the land in that direction, the Norwegians decided to give their attention to the land lying on the western side of the Strait, in the vicinity of Hayes Sound, where Nares, in 1875, had done considerable work. They completed the survey of the coast line running round Robeson Channel, and, during their stay, not only mapped out an area of one hundred thousand square miles, but also located hitherto undiscovered land, which was named after King Oscar of Norway and taken possession of in his name. Valuable additions were also made to the zoological, geological, meteorological, and botanical records, while the story of the expedition abounds in interesting experiences.

The sun set on October 16 for the remainder of the winter. A party was out taking observations over some mountains behind the bay in which the _Fram_ was anch.o.r.ed, and had returned to camp for the evening meal as the sun was going down. One of the party drew the attention of the others to it, and they gathered at the door of the tent and watched it in silence. "We were looking at the sun for the last time that year,"

Captain Sverdrup wrote in his account of the expedition. "Its pale light lay dying over the 'inland ice'; its disc, light red, was veiled on the horizon; it was like a day in the land of the dead. All light was so hopelessly cold; all life so far away. We stood and watched it till it sank; then everything became so still that it made one shudder--as if the Almighty had deserted us and shut the gates of Heaven. The light died away across the mountains and slowly vanished, while over us crept the great shades of the Polar night, the night that kills all life."

With a stretch of four months' darkness before them, it was impossible to avoid recalling the records of others who had gone through the lonely period of darkness and cold. It was a disquieting subject. Franklin, with 138 men under his command, had seen the sun go down into the Polar night, and not a man of all the party had lived to tell the tale.

Greely, with twenty-five men, had seen the silent darkness come on near where they were situated at the moment--six had lived to see the dawn.

Nordenskjold, wintering in White Bay, had seventeen men die of scurvy, with an abundance of food around them, for when the last victim was found, lying where he fell, he had a piece of salt pork still clutched in his fingers, while in the camp there were scores of tins of preserved fresh meat unopened. True it was that science, since then, had made vast strides, and prejudice and ignorance had been largely overcome; but when men find themselves absolutely cut off from all communication with the outside world, and with all sorts of possible dangers and disasters hidden in the future, it is only the fool-hardy who fails to realise them. The brave man does not shut his eyes to dangers; he looks them squarely in the face and determines to overcome them. Such a man usually wins. It is the man who shuts his eyes to what is in front of him who is defeated.

The winter pa.s.sed without any fatality among them, although there was an occasion when one of the members nearly came to his end. Various trips were taken when the moon was up to try and locate the site where Greely made his historic camp on Pim Island. In February two men set out to look for it, and, as they did not intend to be long away, they took neither food nor sleeping-bags with them. The weather was clear and cold, with the thermometer at -40 Fahr., but the men experienced no ill effects from it on their journey. They found some pieces of rope and sail-cloth scattered about at a spot on the north side of the island, and came to the conclusion that this must have been the site of the camp. Having examined the place, they were about to return to the _Fram_, when one of them sank to the ground. His companion strove to lift him up, but without avail; he had suddenly become exhausted, and his strength gave out so entirely that he could not remain on his feet.

It was a serious situation. A few hours of inactivity in such a temperature, without an excess of fur clothing and warm food, meant freezing to death. His companion was in doubt whether to wait and strive to rouse him, or to run to the ship for help. He adopted the latter course, and sped away as fast as his legs could carry him. Arrived at the _Fram_, he raised the alarm, and every one turned out and hastened to the rescue. A sledge was quickly harnessed to a dog team, and on it were placed furs and food. The place where the man had collapsed was about a mile away, and the rescuers were soon at his side. He lay in a heap on the frozen snow, too far gone to recognise any one. He was pushed into a sleeping-bag, placed on the sledge, and driven off at top speed to the ship, where he was promptly put into his bunk and restoratives administered to him. Soon the efforts were successful, and he sank into a sleep from which he awakened, many hours after, little the worse for his adventure. He escaped without even a touch of frost-bite.

A few days after this episode the temperature fell rapidly, until the thermometer registered as low as -58 Fahr. Peary, the American explorer, was at the time some fifteen miles to the north of the _Fram_, and the temperature in his locality went down to -67 Fahr., a cold so intense that, hardened as he was to the rigours of Arctic weather, he had seven toes so severely frost-bitten that they had to be amputated. A small party from the _Fram_ was out on the ice at the time, and the cold was so trying to them that they squeezed into their sleeping-bags clad, as they were, in heavy fur garments. Still they were unable to get warm, so they lit their oil stove to raise the temperature in the tent. While this was being done, one man complained bitterly of the cold in his back, and a comrade, seeking a cause for it, found that the moisture from his body had turned to white frost on the inside of his thick woollen jersey. To thaw it, they put the lighted stove between the jersey and the man's back, whereupon he exclaimed, "Ah, that's not quite so cold."

Yet the way in which mankind can adapt themselves to all varieties of climate, by use and custom, was shown by a visit they had from one of Peary's Eskimo. He reached the _Fram_ on a day when the temperature was at -40 Fahr. Invited on board, he said he must first change his travelling clothes, and, in the open air, he stripped to the waist to remove his heavy furs and put on a lighter suit. He was apparently as unaffected by the intense cold on his naked flesh as one of the Norwegians would have been had the thermometer stood at forty degrees above instead of forty degrees below zero.

The visit of the Eskimo proved an enjoyable break to the explorers, though their generosity in giving him presents, at the time of his departure, resulted in so many more coming to visit them that they had rather too much of a good thing. But when he first arrived the visitor was peculiarly welcome. They entertained him to various amus.e.m.e.nts, commencing with dinner and concluding with a concert. To the latter the Eskimo contributed his share. He was greatly taken with a toy drum belonging to one of the party, and played his own idea of a melody upon it. As his hosts did not manifest any displeasure at his performances--whatever they may have felt--he became bolder and offered to sing them a song.

To the accompaniment of the drum, he commenced with a weird, wild wail, which gradually developed in volume of sound and variety of intonation until the listeners began to feel shivers running up and down their spines. At that point the singer, who had so far sat rigid, began to sway his body from side to side, while he tossed his head backwards and forwards. He had long dank black hair, and, as he moved quicker and quicker, in time with the drum and the staccato wails, his hair was tossed over his face until the features were obscured. This appeared to be the critical moment in the performance, for he raised himself from his seat, and, with his hair tossing, his voice wailing, his body swaying, and his hands thumping vigorously at the drum, he completed the discomfiture of his hosts, who, disposed to smile at the beginning of the performance, were distinctly uncomfortable at the finish. The performer, however, was by no means dissatisfied with himself. He was a great singer, he told them, perhaps the greatest in the tribe. They had only to ask some of the others of his tribe to sing to realise the truth of what he said, he added. But the Norwegians were satisfied with the one experience.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ESKIMO VISITORS TO THE _FRAM_ IN NIGHT ATTIRE.]

During the sledge journeys numerous indications were found of musk oxen being in the neighbourhood of the sheltered valleys in the interior of the islands. As a supply of fresh beef was always desirable, considerable attention was paid to these animals, and, from time to time, the larder was kept well supplied with their meat. On these hunting expeditions some interesting observations were made on the habits of the oxen. One of the most interesting was as to the manner in which they met attack. When they were disturbed in feeding, the herd would retreat slowly and in order; but if they saw they were being pursued, they moved towards any vantage ground, such as a rise or hill summit, there to form themselves into a square. Each animal took up its position as though by word of command, until they stood, shoulder to shoulder, with their heads outward and so close together that their horns often linked, while within the square were sheltered any young calves there might be with the herd.

As the enemy approached one of the oxen, usually the oldest bull in the herd, dashed out from his place in the square and bounded towards the foe, with head down, horns brandished with sidelong tosses of the head, snorting and bellowing defiance. As he left the square the ranks closed up and remained so until he returned, when the ranks opened enough for him to back into his place, while another charged out to carry on the combat in front of the square. These movements were executed with lightning rapidity, every animal dashing out in turn to seek single combat, the one to advance being always the one to the right of the returned champion. Usually the advance was for a distance of a dozen yards, but there were occasions when the explorers saw the challenging ox advance over a hundred yards from the main body.

When there were sufficient bulls in the herd to form the outer lines, the cows were placed, with the calves, inside the square; but if the bulls were not numerous enough to complete the outer ranks, then the cows took their places beside the bulls. In one instance, where the herd consisted of cows and calves only, the cows formed the square and carried on the fight while the calves were sheltered within.

The courage displayed by the oxen was not restricted to their defence.

They appeared to be actuated by an _esprit de corps_ which could only be likened to the heroism which animates men of fanatical fighting tribes.

They were apparently incapable of fear, even to that extent which makes the saving of one's self a first consideration. When the square was once formed it never broke. Every beast in it might be killed, one by one, but there was never a sign of a break-away or a stampede. If only a few were killed, the square stood its ground until the attackers retreated, when, with an open field, the square slowly retired, still in formation, and still ready, at the first signal, to halt and renew the fight. In one instance, where every beast had been shot save one, that one made his sortie, pranced round in defiance, and retired to the heap of slain, all that remained of his gallant comrades.

Their method of defence was capable of repelling the attack of any animal now inhabiting the Arctic regions, and more complete in its system than appeared to be needed to repel any of the animals likely to attack them. It was unnecessary for the repelling of bears; foxes would never attack animals so large; the only animals likely to challenge a contest were the wolves operating in a pack. But the Arctic wolves, as a rule, hunt singly, or in pairs. There may have been a time, however, when they formed themselves into packs, and from such a time the defensive tactics of the oxen may date. Certainly the formation would prove invulnerable against such an attack, as was evidenced by the way in which a herd of oxen could hold at bay the dogs from the sledge teams. As soon as oxen were sighted it was the practice to let the dogs loose. They at once made for the oxen, and, as soon as the latter caught sight of them, they formed into a square and remained so until the explorers came up and selected such of the herd as they required for the larder. In no instance did the dogs succeed in harming an ox, though more than once a dog, venturing too near a prancing champion, was spun up into the air to fall to the ground a sad and subdued creature, if it were so fortunate as to escape with its life.

The return of summer, during the first year of their stay, was marred by the death of the doctor. Early in June the sh.o.r.es of Hayes Sound were being surveyed. The ice still covered the sea and the land was deep in snow. One night, when the surveying party had returned to their tent and were sitting round the oil stove eating their supper, they heard a man outside asking if he might come in. They opened the tent flap and discovered the doctor standing outside. He was evidently ill, and, as they soon realised, snow-blind. He had missed his way while out after specimens and had accidentally stumbled on the camp. He was taken in and given warm food, which revived him somewhat, afterwards being put in a sleeping-bag and made as comfortable as they could make him. In the morning he p.r.o.nounced himself much better, and said he would stay at the camp, resting, for the day. The party left him with no misgivings, but on their return in the evening they found him dead in the sleeping-bag.

Camp was struck the following morning and, with the body of the doctor on the sledge, the party started back to the ship. It was a sad journey.

Not only was it the first time in the history of the _Fram_ that a member of the ship's company had died, but the loss of the doctor was a serious matter to the explorers, who were thus left without any qualified expert to attend to them in the event of either sickness or accident occurring. The procession reached the ship on June 15, and the next morning the whole company formed up in funeral array to convey the remains of the doctor to their last resting-place. They gave him a sailor's burial. The national flag covered the body and bier, and the explorers, walking slowly, two and two, proceeded down Rice Strait over the ice to a spot where a hole had been cut through the ice to the open water. The body was lowered to the water's edge, where it was held while prayers were read and a hymn sung. "Then followed the moment when he slowly slipped into the deep. We shall never forget it. We sang a hymn and said the Lord's Prayer," Captain Sverdrup wrote.

As the survey work advanced to the west of the Sound, the discovery of several inaccuracies in former maps led to the hope that new land might be located in that direction. Ellesmere Land having been explored and Sir Robert Inglis Peak shown to be non-existent, advantage was taken of the opening of the ice in the summer seasons to push the _Fram_ farther to the west, so as to enable the sledge parties to reach still greater distances over the ice in that direction. It was by this means the crowning triumph of the expedition was achieved, though at the time of its achievement an event happened which very nearly brought about a tragic ending. This was no less than a fire on the _Fram_.