While the following pages will contain necessarily brief notices of the life of the party during an entire winter, they must conclude with the record of the great calamity which befell the band of heroes. Shortly after they found themselves settled for a campaign of idleness, as they expected it to be, Lockwood was again confined to his sleeping-bag on account of an injury to his feet which had not been properly protected; his discomforts being aggravated by the reflection that both provisions and fuel were beginning to reach a low-tide level. The constant hunger which was experienced by all hands went far to make their circumstances dismal and depressing; while the only entertainment that could be provided was the reading aloud, by one of the men, of a story and some newspaper scraps which Rice had picked up at Cape Sabine. A little excitement was afforded by a lottery for the distribution of some clothing and two mattresses which had been brought ashore from the Proteus, one of the latter falling to the lot of Lockwood. And now came a proposition for a sledge expedition, not to discover islands, glaciers, fiords, and prominent capes, but to go after the abandoned whale-boat which had floated down with the floe. This must be broken up and used for fuel. Then followed another expedition, occupying not less than eight days, to Cape Isabella, to obtain one hundred pounds of preserved meat left there by the English. Feeling the want of exercise, Lockwood occasionally took a long walk, and on one occasion was so hungry when he returned, that he could not wait for the regular evening meal, but fastened upon a lot of moldy potatoes which had been abandoned, and with these filled his stomach, almost expecting that the feast would cause his death. Some of the men went still further, for, when a blue or a white fox was killed, even the entrails of the animal were devoured. Food was the constant subject of conversation with all of the party—what they would be able to get, what they had enjoyed in former years at their distant homes, and what they expected to enjoy after their return from the North. Not only were their supplies getting lower day by day, but the only warm thing they could now afford was a cup of tea, excepting on Sunday, when they had a little rum with a bit of lemon.

On the 25th of November, the sun disappeared from view, not to be seen again until the following February, and now the gloom of the time and place was greatly increased. On that day Lockwood recorded in his journal the following: “I have intended writing a letter home recounting my experiences since leaving Fort Conger, but so far the discomforts of this life have prevented me. It is difficult to get the blubber-lamp for more than a few minutes during the day, and sometimes it can not be had at all. The lamp is blown out every evening when we are ready to retire, which is generally about eight o’clock.”

Nor were their troubles in any way alleviated by the discovery that one of the men had been seen, or was suspected of, visiting the store-room to fill himself with food—especially despicable thieving. The expedition to Cape Isabella resulted in finding the food which, however, was abandoned in returning, as one of the men, Ellison, became very sick, and had his hands, feet, and nose frozen. He was brought home by a relief party in a helpless condition, Lockwood and the other men of the party having completely worn themselves out by exposure to the cold and hard work. As it was feared that the men would become insane if they did not stop talking about food, Lieutenant Greely began to deliver some lectures on the geography of the United States and their natural productions; and this was followed by miscellaneous discussions in regard to places for business. Whistler, for example, praised the city of Independence, in Kansas, as a splendid place; Long said he was going to set up a restaurant at Ann Arbor in Michigan; Fredericks would follow suit at Minneapolis in Minnesota; while Jewell counted upon a grocery-store in Kansas.

After commenting upon the terrible weather, Lockwood gave expression to the following: “These short rations make me feel the cold dreadfully. It is a constant effort to keep one’s hands and feet comfortable, or even comparatively so. I find my spirits first up and then down. Sometimes, when I think of the months before us of this life of misery and suffering, I do not see how we can possibly pull through. At other times I feel much more hopeful; but this is a life of inexpressible misery.”

For several days before the arrival of Thanksgiving-day, a great feast was anticipated and on that day enjoyed, including a favorite dish called by them “son-of-a-gun,” composed of bread, raisins, milk, and a little blubber; nor did the exiles omit the reading of a few chapters from the Bible. In the evening Lockwood entertained the party with his experiences as a farmer at Annapolis, all being interested, and he wound up by inviting the whole of the company to assemble there and enjoy a dinner with him on the next Thanksgiving-day, the said dinner to be composed in part of a roast turkey stuffed with oysters and eaten with cranberries. In return for this compliment, each one of the audience invited Lockwood to partake with him of a feast after their return home, and expatiated with great gusto on the dishes that he proposed to have served. The promise made by Lynn was a roasted turkey; Ralston, hot hoe-cake; Ellis, spare-rib; Long, pork-chops; Biederbick, old regiment dish called buffers; Connell, Irish stew; Bender, a roasted pig; Snyder, tenderloin-steak; Brainard, peaches and cream; Fredericks, black cake and preserves; Saler, veal cutlets; Whistler, flapjacks and molasses; Jewell, roasted oysters on toast; Rice, clam-chowder; Israel, hashed liver; Gardiner, Virginia pone; Ellison, Vienna sausage; Pavy, pÂtÉ-de-fois-gras; Henry, Hamburg steak; Kislingbury, hashed turkey, chicken, and veal; Greely, Parker House rolls, coffee, cheese, omelette, rice, and chicken curry. It was after this jolly discussion of imaginary good things that the party sat down to a stew of seal-blubber and nothing more. The next day Lockwood partook of his first dish of seal-skin which he found as hard to digest as it was difficult to swallow.

On one occasion, when nearly all were asleep, a scratching noise was heard upon the roof, and it was ascertained that a blue fox was trying to make an entrance. The same night the ears of the sleepers were saluted by a loud roar, caused by the ice moving down the straits, a sound most terrible to human nerves. At one time, after Lockwood had expressed his gratitude for enjoying warm feet for a whole night, he resumed the subject of food, and then penned the following: “My mind dwells constantly on the dishes of my childhood at home. O my dear home, and the dear ones there! Can it be possible I shall some day see them again, and that these days of misery will pass away? My dear father, is he still alive? My dear mother and sisters, Harry, and my nieces and brothers-in-law, how often do I think of them! Only three days more to the top of the hill!” (alluding to the longest night, or winter solstice).

“As to my bread, I always eat it regretfully. If I eat it before tea, I regret that I did not keep it; and if I wait until tea comes and then eat it, I drink my tea rather hastily and do not get the satisfaction out of the cold meat and bread I otherwise would. What a miserable life, where a few crumbs of bread weigh so heavily on one’s mind! It seems to be so with all the rest. All sorts of expedients are tried to cheat one’s stomach, but with about the same result. By way of securing the idea of a warm piece of meat, I sometimes pour upon it a bit of my hot tea, but the effort proves futile.”

On the 21st of December, the day which Lockwood had long been anticipating with pleasure, he expressed his gratification in these words: “The top of the hill! the most glorious day of this dreary journey through the valley of cold and hunger has at last come, and is now nearly gone. Thank God, the glorious sun commences to return, and every day gets lighter and brings him nearer! It is an augury that we shall yet pull through all right.” In view of his ultimate fate, how unutterably touching are these hopeful words!

Before the close of that day, however, he made another record in his journal, which forcibly illustrates their deplorable condition, as follows:

“Had a good fox-stew this evening. By a great effort I was able to save one ounce of my bread and about two ounces of butter, for Christmas. I shall make a vigorous effort to abstain from eating it before then. Put it in charge of Biederbick as an additional safeguard.”

Among the entertainments enjoyed by the party were lectures by Lieutenant Greely on the several States of the Union. After one of them, on Louisiana, had been delivered, Lockwood added to it an account of his trip from Baltimore to Texas, and that from New Orleans to Cincinnati, all of which narrative was well received.

For several days before Christmas, all were eagerly looking forward to the grand forthcoming dinner and talking about it, a number of them, like Lockwood, saving up a part of their scanty daily allowance for the occasion. Lockwood mentioned that when he proposed to exchange the promise of a fine Christmas-dinner on their return home for a piece of dog-biscuit delivered at once, he found no one ready to accept his liberal offer. The Christmas-dinner was similar to that on Thanksgiving-day; various songs were sung, and, at the close of the feast, hearty cheers were given for Lieutenant Greely, Corporal Ellison, Rice the photographer, and the two cooks.

On Christmas-night all the party enjoyed a refreshing sleep, and the next day there was much talk about the distant homes and friends. Lockwood was greatly pleased to learn that his comrades had formed a high opinion of his father from what Greely and he had occasionally told them; and, while describing the family reunions in Washington, he was affected to tears for the first time during his Northern campaign, excepting when Rice had come from Esquimaux Point with the Garlington records, when his tears were the result of gratitude.

In a region where eating had become pre-eminently the chief end of man, it is not strange that the business of marketing should have become popular. How it was managed may be gathered from the following paragraph: “To-day has been a market-day, everybody trading rations—bread for butter, meat for bread, bread for soup, etc. A great deal of talking done, but not many solid trades made. I traded about half of my to-morrow’s son-of-a-gun for about eight ounces of bread; then I gave Brainard one ounce and a half of butter for two dog-biscuits, but my trading did not prove profitable.”

As for New-Year’s-day, it came and departed without any special demonstrations: the son-of-a-gun was enjoyed by all parties; many of the ice-bound hearts were warmed by memories of home; and Greely and Lockwood had a long talk about the condition of affairs, and the prospects for the future.

The business of trading among the explorers being discouraged, did not long continue, but was succeeded by some other importations from civilization, viz., the taking of property of other people without leave or license. A report was made to Lieutenant Greely that some one had taken a quarter of a pound of bacon, left in the stearine by the cook; also that a barrel of bread had been broken open and two pounds taken away. This proved that the bears and the foxes were not the only thieves to be found in the Arctic regions. The man suspected of the deed was closely watched and had a narrow escape from being properly punished.

On the 10th of January, the case of poor Corporal Ellison was again brought up for discussion and prompt action. It had been hoped that his frosted feet would be restored to their normal condition, but this was not to be, for they were both amputated by Nature, and two of his fingers besides. Strange to say, this was accomplished without his being aware of what was taking place, so little vitality remained in these parts. When we recall the sufferings of this man, in connection with his surroundings and his distance from the comforts of home, we must conclude that the stories of fiction can not eclipse the wonders of actual life and experience. What a combination there of cold and hunger, bodily pain and mental anguish, darkness and perpetual storms!

As we pass over the daily records made by Lockwood in his journal at this particular time, we find food and the dangers of starvation to be the absorbing themes. It seems strange that, in a land of ice and snow, there should have been any apprehensions about a sufficient supply of drinking-water; but this was the case, and the fact came home to the exiles when they found that their supply of tea had to be reduced to half a cup per man. Good water was not only scarce, but could not be obtained from the neighboring lake, their sole dependence, without great toil in chopping away the ice. They had the ice, of course, but there was not sufficient fuel to reduce it to a liquid.

As they could keep warm only by remaining in their sleeping-bags, the manner of visiting each other was simply to exchange sleeping-bags; and thus, when Lockwood wanted to have a talk with Greely, one of the companions of the latter would exchange bags with the visitor.

On the 18th of January, another cloud was thrown upon the party by the death of Cross. He died of a kind of heart-disease, induced, it was supposed, by intemperance in drinking. For several hours before his death he uttered low moans which seemed a kind of echo from the grinding of the far-off ice-fields. His remains were enveloped in coffee-sacks and an American flag, and deposited in a stony grave near the neighboring lake, the only funeral remarks having been made by Lieutenant Lockwood.

On the 21st, Lockwood had a talk with Greely about his own health; said he was very weak, and had been so for two weeks, but had not mentioned it for fear of depressing the men; he could not account for it, and concluded by saying that if he should not be well or better when the time came to make the contemplated passage of the straits, he desired to be left behind with his share of the rations, and then be sent for from Littleton Island. To this Greely replied that he would never harbor such an idea for a single moment; that he would never abandon a living soul.

On the 2d of February, Rice and Jans started to test the passage of the straits, hoping to reach Littleton Island, where they expected to find some provisions or a relief-ship. But, alas! they were stopped by open water, and not successful, though they traveled about fifty miles up and down the floes, and were absent four days. Owing to the bad weather, they did not even get a glimpse of the coast of Greenland. All were greatly disappointed, and some felt that death from starvation was staring them in the face; and yet they found some relief in the increased light preceding the reappearance of the sun. Lockwood, who now became despondent and apathetic, endeavored to peer into the future, and wondered whether his bones were really to be left in the Arctic regions. He mourned over the fact that he had not been as good a son and as kind a brother as he might have been, and hoped that the dear ones at home would remember him as he wished to be, and not as he had been. As to the end, he hoped it would come soon, whatever it might be; and he declared himself possessed by a feeling of indifference to hunger, cold, and gloom, “all of them enemies of existence.” After mourning over the approaching fate of Ellison, he recorded these touching words: “How often I think of the dear ones at home, the Sunday evening reunions, and all the bright and happy pictures that present themselves! My dear, good old father! may he look with charity on my many short-comings! My dear mother and sisters and Harry, brothers-in-law, and nieces! I trust that they are well and happy, and, if I do not pull through this, will learn to look on my memory kindly!” An allusion that he now made to his companions in suffering was to this effect: “The party presents a bold front, and is not wanting in spirit. If our fate is the worst, I do not think we shall disgrace the name of Americans and of soldiers.” The attempt of Rice to cross the straits to Littleton Island was heroic in the extreme, and his pluck was further exemplified by a proposition that he submitted to Greely to make a second effort to cross the straits, and that, too, unattended by any companion; but the idea was not sanctioned.

On the 22d of February, strange to say, a raven made its appearance in the vicinity of the Arctic camp, but was not killed, although it might have been enjoyed at the forthcoming dinner. It must have been a great relief to some of the party that it disappeared without uttering its dreadful cry, “Nevermore!” as translated by the poet, Poe.

On the 27th, not knowing what might happen to him, Lockwood wrote the following in his journal: “The chronometer in my pocket is the one used on the trip to 83° 24´ and on all my trips in this region. My intention is to buy it, but, in case I do not get back, I would have it purchased and kept in the family.”

When the sun first made its appearance above the horizon, as it carried his mind away to his far-distant home, he gave expression to this emotion: “O God! how many years of my life would I give to be there!”

Every day, observations were made from neighboring elevations to ascertain the condition of the straits separating them from the Greenland coast which was distinctly visible in clear weather, hoping without hope to see it frozen over from shore to shore; but the lateness of the season precluded all reasonable expectation of such a result, and the daily reports of open water were depressing in the extreme. On the 13th of March, the announcement was made that the supplies of coffee, chocolate, and canned vegetables were all exhausted, and that henceforth they would have to depend almost entirely on pemmican, bacon, bread, and tea, all of which, though given in one-third rations only, would not last for more than a month, thus leaving them without supplies to cross the straits in the event of a satisfactory freeze. In view of all these circumstances, it is impossible to imagine how they could quietly continue their preparations for a journey to the supposed goal at Littleton Island. Surely the hope which inspired the sufferers was eternal and supreme in its strength and pathos. “The straits,” said Lockwood, “are open, and I see no prospect of their freezing so that we can get across. Of course, I hope to the contrary; for this means death, if we can find no game here.” On a subsequent day he writes as follows: “We look to the end with equanimity, and the spirits of the party, in spite of the prospect of a miserable death, are certainly wonderful. I am glad as each day comes to an end. It brings us nearer the end of this life, whatever that end is to be.”

On the 23d of March, the last of the regular fuel was exhausted, and the food was so nearly gone that the men actually began to collect their seal-skin clothing and foot-gear for any emergency that might happen. Game was not only scarce, but the men were getting almost too weak to endure a hunt. To avoid long tramps, which were sure to be unsuccessful, they turned their attention to shrimp-fishing, but, as one man could only get three pounds in one day, the prospect in this direction was not hopeful.

During the month of March and the early part of April, there was nothing done by the able-bodied members of the party but to try to secure some game, the only incidents occurring to interrupt the monotony being the deaths of the Esquimaux Frederick Christiansen, and Sergeant Lynn. The former had been complaining for a week or more, but nobody thought him in danger, and he died unexpectedly. Lockwood’s tribute to him was to this effect: “He was a good man, and I felt a great affection for him. He constantly worked hard in my service, and never spared himself on our sledge-trips. His death makes me feel very sorrowful.” He was buried by the side of Cross, near the lake. The death of Lynn was also unexpected. He fully appreciated his condition, and gave some directions regarding his last wishes. He was much liked, and highly spoken of by all. After the burial service had been read at the house by Lieutenant Greely, his remains were also placed by the lake-side with those of Cross and the Esquimaux.

The drama was about to close, the curtain already falling upon the band of heroes:

“And their hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums were beating

Funeral marches to the grave.”