Chapter IV: Part 4

It must not be forgotten that the north-west passage has been shown to be a reality, by means of voyages from the Pacific as well as from the Atlantic. No arctic voyager, however, has yet succeeded in passing from one ocean to the other. Nor is it likely now that any voyager will pursue his way along a path so beset by dangers as that which is called the north-west passage. Long before the problem had been solved, it had become well known that no profit could be expected to accrue to trade from the discovery of a passage along the perilous straits and the ice-encumbered seas which, lie to the north of the American continent. But Sir Edward Parry having traced out a passage as far as Melville Island, it seemed to the bold spirit of our arctic explorers that it might be possible, by sailing through Behring’s Straits, to trace out a connection between the arctic seas on that side and the regions reached by Parry. Accordingly, M’Clure, in 1850, sailed in the ‘Investigator,’ and passing eastward, after traversing Behring’s Straits, reached Baring’s Land, and eventually identified this land as a portion of Banks’ Land, seen by Parry to the southward of Melville Island.

It will thus be seen that the unexplored parts of the arctic regions are limited in this direction by sufficiently high latitudes.

Turn we next to the explorations which Russian voyagers have made to the northward of Siberia. It must be noticed, in the first place, that the coast of Siberia runs much farther northward than that of the American continent. So that on this side, independently of sea explorations, the unknown arctic regions are limited within very high latitudes. But attempts have been made to push much farther north from these shores. In every case, however, the voyagers have found that the ice-fields, over which they hoped to make their way, have become gradually less and less firm, until at length no doubt could remain that there lay an open sea beyond them. How far that sea may extend is a part of the secret of the North Pole; but we may assume that it is no narrow sea, since otherwise there can be little doubt that the ice-fields which surround the shores of Northern Siberia would extend unbroken to the farther shores of what we should thus have to recognise as a strait. The thinning-off of these ice-fields, observed by Baron Wrangel and his companions, affords, indeed, most remarkable and significant testimony respecting the nature of the sea which lies beyond. This I shall presently have to exhibit more at length; in the meantime I need only remark that scarcely any doubt can exist that the sea thus discovered extends northwards to at least the eightieth parallel of latitude.

We may say, then, that from Wellington Channel, northward of the American continent, right round towards the west, up to the neighbourhood of Spitzbergen, very little doubt exists as to the general characteristics of the arctic regions, save only as respects those unexplored parts which lie within ten or twelve degrees of the North Pole. The reader will see presently why I am so careful to exhibit the limited extent of the unexplored arctic regions in this direction. The guess we shall form as to the true nature of the north-polar secret will depend almost entirely on this consideration.

I turn now to those two paths along which arctic exploration, properly so termed, has been most successfully pursued.

It is chiefly to the expeditions of Drs. Kane and Hayes that we owe the important knowledge we have respecting the northerly portions of the straits which lie to the west of Greenland. Each of these explorers succeeded in reaching the shores of an open sea lying to the north-east of Kennedy Channel, the extreme northerly limit of those straits. Hayes, who had accompanied Kane in the voyage of 1854-5, succeeded in reaching a somewhat higher latitude in sledges drawn by Esquimaux dogs. But both expeditions agree in showing that the shores of Greenland trend off suddenly towards the east at a point within some nine degrees of the North Pole. On the other hand, the prolongation of the opposite shore of Kennedy Channel was found to extend northwards as far as the eye could reach. Within the angle thus formed there was an open sea ‘rolling,’ says Captain Maury, ‘with the swell of a boundless ocean.’

But a circumstance was noticed respecting this sea which was very significant. The tides ebbed and flowed in it. Only one fact we know of—a fact to be presently discussed—throws so much light on the question we are considering as this circumstance does. Let us consider a little whence these tidal waves can have come.

The narrow straits between Greenland on the one side, and Ellesmere Land and Grinnell Land on the other, are completely ice-bound. We cannot suppose that the tidal wave could have found its way beneath such a barrier as this. ‘I apprehend,’ says Captain Maury, ‘that the tidal wave from the Atlantic can no more pass under this icy barrier, to be propagated in the seas beyond, than the vibrations of a musical string can pass with its notes a fret on which the musician has placed his finger.’

Are we to suppose, then, that the tidal waves were formed in the very sea in which they were seen by Kane and Hayes? This is Captain Maury’s opinion:—‘These tides,’ says he, ‘must have been born in that cold sea, having their cradle about the North Pole.’

But if we carefully consider the theory of the tides, this opinion seems inadmissible. Every consideration on which that theory is founded is opposed to the assumption that the moon could by any possibility raise tides in an arctic basin of limited extent. It would be out of place to examine at length the principle on which the formation of tides depends. It will be sufficient for our purposes to remark that it is not to the mere strength of the moon’s ‘pull’ upon the waters of any ocean that the tidal wave owes its origin, but to the difference of the forces by which the various parts of that ocean are attracted. The whole of an ocean cannot be raised at once by the moon; but if one part is attracted more than another, a wave is formed. That this may happen, the ocean must be one of wide extent. In the vast seas which surround the Southern Pole there is room for an immensely powerful ‘drag,’ so to speak; for always there will be one part of these seas much nearer to the moon than the rest, and so there will be an appreciable difference of pull upon that part.

The reader will now see why I have been so careful to ascertain the limits of the supposed north-polar ocean, in which, according to Captain Maury, tidal waves are generated. To accord with his views, this ocean must be surrounded on all sides by impassable barriers either of land or ice. These barriers, then, must lie to the northward of the regions yet explored, for there is open sea communicating with the Pacific all round the north of Asia and America. It only requires a moment’s inspection of a terrestrial globe to see how small a space is thus left for Captain Maury’s land-locked ocean. I have purposely left out of consideration, as yet, the advances made by arctic voyagers in the direction of the sea which lies between Greenland and Spitzbergen. We shall presently see that on this side the imaginary land-locked ocean must be more limited than towards the shores of Asia or America. As it is, however, it remains clear, that if there were any ocean communicating with the spot reached by Dr. Kane, but separated from all communication—by open water—either with the Atlantic or with the Pacific, that ocean would be so limited in extent that the moon’s attraction could exert no more effective influence upon its waters than upon the waters of the Mediterranean—where, as we know, no tides are generated. This, then, would be a tideless ocean, and we must look elsewhere for an explanation of the tidal waves seen by Dr. Kane.

We thus seem to have _primâ facie_ evidence that the sea reached by Kane communicates either with the Pacific or with the Atlantic, or—which is the most probable view—with both those oceans. When we consider the voyages which have been made towards the North Pole along the northerly prolongation of the Atlantic Ocean, we find very strong evidence in favour of the view that there is open-water communication in this direction, not only with the spot reached by Kane, but with a region very much nearer to the North Pole.

So far back as 1607, Hudson had penetrated within eight and a half degrees (or about 600 miles) of the North Pole on this route. When we consider the clumsy build and the poor sailing qualities of the ships of Hudson’s day, we cannot but feel that so successful a journey marks this route as one of the most promising ever tried. Hudson was not turned back by impassable barriers of land or ice, but by the serious dangers to which the floating masses of ice and the gradually thickening ice-fields exposed his weak and ill-manned vessel. Since his time, others have sailed upon the same track, and hitherto with no better success. It was reserved to the Swedish expedition of 1868 to gain the highest latitudes ever reached in a ship in this direction. The steamship ‘Sofia,’ in which this successful voyage was made, was strongly built of Swedish iron, and originally intended for winter voyages in the Baltic. Owing to a number of delays, it was not until September 16 that the ‘Sofia’ reached the most northerly part of her journey. This was a point some fifteen miles nearer the North Pole than Hudson had reached. To the north there still lay broken ice, but packed so thickly that not even a boat could pass through it. So late in the season, it would have been unsafe to wait for a change of weather and a consequent breaking-up of the ice. Already the temperature had sunk sixteen degrees below the freezing-point; and the enterprising voyagers had no choice but to return. They made, indeed, another push for the north a fortnight later, but only to meet with a fresh repulse. An ice-block with which they came into collision opened a large leak in the vessel’s side; and when after great exertions they reached the land, the water already stood two feet over the cabin floor. In the course of these attempts, the depths of the Atlantic were sounded, and two interesting facts were revealed. The first was that the island of Spitzbergen is connected with Scandinavia by a submarine bank; the second was the circumstance that to the north and west of Spitzbergen the Atlantic is more than two miles deep!

We come now to the most conclusive evidence yet afforded of the extension of the Atlantic Ocean towards the immediate neighbourhood of the North Pole. Singularly enough, this evidence is associated not with a sea-voyage, nor with a voyage across ice to the borders of some northern sea, but with a journey during which the voyagers were throughout surrounded as far as the eye could reach by apparently fixed ice-fields.

In 1827 Sir Edward Parry was commissioned by the English Government to attempt to reach the North Pole. A large reward was promised in case he succeeded, or even if he could get within five degrees of the North Pole. The plan which he adopted seemed promising. Starting from a port in Spitzbergen, he proposed to travel as far northward as possible in sea-boats, and then, landing upon the ice, to prosecute his voyage by means of sledges. Few narratives of arctic travel are more interesting than that which Parry has left of this famous ‘boat-and-sledge’ expedition. The voyagers were terribly harassed by the difficulties of the way; and after a time, that most trying of all arctic experiences, the bitterly cold wind which comes from out the dreadful north, was added to their trials. Yet still they plodded steadily onwards, tracking their way over hundreds of miles of ice with the confident expectation of at least attaining to the eighty-fifth parallel, if not to the Pole itself.

But a most grievous disappointment was in store for them. Parry began to notice that the astronomical observations, by which in favourable weather he estimated the amount of their northerly progress, showed a want of correspondence with the actual rate at which they were travelling. At first he could hardly believe that there was not some mistake; but at length the unpleasant conviction was forced upon him that the whole ice-field over which he and his companions had been toiling so painfully was setting steadily southwards before the wind. Each day the extent of this set became greater and greater, until at length they were actually carried as fast towards the south as they could travel northwards.

Parry deemed it useless to continue the struggle. There were certainly two chances in his favour. It was possible that the north wind might cease to blow, and it was also possible that the limit of the ice might soon be reached, and that his boats might travel easily northward upon the open sea beyond. But he had to consider the exhausted state of his men, and the great additional danger to which they were subjected by the movable nature of the ice-fields. If the ice should break up, or if heavy and long-continued southerly winds should blow, they might have found it very difficult to regain their port of refuge in Spitzbergen before winter set in or their stores were exhausted. Besides, there were no signs of water in the direction they had been taking. The water-sky of arctic regions can be recognised by the experienced seamen long before the open sea itself is visible. On every side, however, there were the signs of widely-extended ice-fields. It seemed, therefore, hopeless to persevere, and Parry decided on returning with all possible speed to the haven of refuge prepared for the party in Spitzbergen. He had succeeded in reaching the highest northern latitudes ever yet attained by man. (A somewhat higher latitude has since been reached by Captain Nares’s expedition.)

The most remarkable feature of this expedition, however, is not the high latitude which the party attained, but the strange circumstance which led to their discomfiture. What opinion are we to form of an ocean at once wide and deep enough to float an ice-field which must have been thirty or forty thousand square miles in extent? Parry had travelled upwards of three hundred miles across the field, and we may fairly suppose that he might have travelled forty or fifty miles farther without reaching open water; also that the field extended fully fifty miles on each side of Parry’s northerly track. That the whole of so enormous a field should have floated freely before the arctic winds is indeed an astonishing circumstance. On every side of this floating ice-island there must have been seas comparatively free from ice; and could a stout ship have forced its way through these seas, the latitudes to which it could have reached would have been far higher than those to which Parry’s party was able to attain. For a moment’s consideration will show that the part of the great ice-field where Parry was compelled to turn back must have been floating in far higher latitudes when he first set out. He reckoned that he had lost more than a hundred miles through the southerly motion of the ice-field, and by this amount, of course, the point he reached had been nearer the Pole. It is not assuming too much to say that a ship which could have forced its way round the great floating ice-field would certainly have been able to get within four degrees of the Pole. It seems to us highly probable that she would even have been able to sail upon open water to and beyond the Pole itself.

And when we remember the direction in which Dr. Kane saw an open sea—namely, towards the very region where Parry’s ice—ship had floated a quarter of a century before—it seems reasonable to conclude that there is open water communication between the seas which lie to the north of Spitzbergen and those which lave the north-western shores of Greenland. If this be so, we at once obtain an explanation of the tidal waves which Kane watched day after day in 1855. These had no doubt swept along the valley of the Atlantic, and thence around the northern coast of Greenland. It follows that, densely as the ice may be packed at times in the seas by which Hudson, Scoresby, and other captains have attempted to reach the North Pole, the frozen masses must in reality be floating freely, and there must therefore exist channels through which an adventurous seaman might manage to penetrate the dangerous barriers surrounding the polar ocean.

In such an expedition, chance unfortunately plays a large part. Whalers tell us that there is great uncertainty as to the winds which may blow during an arctic summer. The icebergs may be crowded by easterly winds upon the shores of Greenland, or by westerly winds upon the shores of Spitzbergen, or, lastly, the central passage may be the most encumbered, through the effects of winds blowing now from the east and now from the west. Thus the arctic voyager has not merely to take his chance as to the route along which he shall adventure northwards, but often, after forcing his way successfully for a considerable distance, he finds the ice-fields suddenly closing in upon him on every side, and threatening to crush his ship into fragments. The irresistible power with which, under such circumstances, the masses of ice bear down upon the stoutest ship, has been evidenced again and again; though, fortunately, it not unfrequently happens that some irregularity along one side or the other of the closing channel serves as a sort of natural dock, within which the vessel may remain in comparative safety until a change of wind sets her free. Instances have been known in which a ship has had so narrow an escape in this way, and has been subjected to such an enormous pressure, that when the channel was opened out again, the impress of the ship’s side has been seen distinctly marked upon the massive blocks of ice which have pressed against her.

(From the _St. Paul’s Magazine_, June 1869.)

FOOTNOTES:

[5] So far back as 1789, John Williams, in his _Natural History of the Mineral Kingdom_, discussed the question of the ‘Limited Quantity of Coal in Great Britain.’ The following extracts are taken from an excellent paper on the exhaustion of our coal in the _Popular Science Review_ for July 1866, by Mr. Lemoran, Colliery Viewer. ‘I have no doubt,’ says Williams, ‘that the generality of the inhabitants of Great Britain believe that our coal mines are inexhaustible; and the general conduct of the nation, so far as relates to this subject, seems to imply that this is held as an established fact. If it was not a generally received opinion, would the rage for exporting coals be allowed to go on without limitation or remorse? But it is full time that the public were undeceived in a matter which so nearly concerns the welfare of this flourishing island.... When our coal mines are exhausted, the prosperity and glory of this flourishing and fortunate island are at an end. Our cities and great towns must then become ruinous heaps for want of fuel, and our mines and manufactories must fail from the same cause, and then, consequently, our commerce must vanish. In short, the commerce, wealth, importance, glory, and happiness of Great Britain will decay and gradually dwindle away to nothing, in proportion as our coal and other mines fail.’ Mr. Williams also solves in a very summary manner the problem of England’s fate after her coal stores shall be exhausted. ‘The future inhabitants of this island must live,’ says he, ‘like its first inhabitants, by fishing and hunting.’

[6] In 1854, the yield was 64,661,401 tons; in 1864, the yield was 92,787,873: the average increase per annum was, therefore, no less than 2,812,647 tons.

[7] I have obtained a somewhat different result from a computation I have just gone through. I make the consumption 291 millions in 1900, and 1,446 millions in 1950. Mr. Lemoran seems to have taken the percentage at 3½ instead of 3¼. It is worth noticing how seriously a small change in the percentage affects the result; the consumption in 1950 becoming 1,760 millions of tons, instead of 1,446 millions.

[8] The year 1863 was the last whose statistics were available for Mr. Jevons’s purpose; and estimating from either 1860 or 1862 would give a result smaller than either of the above. Indeed, the consumption was less in 1862 than in 1861.

_IS THE GULF STREAM A MYTH?_

The Gulf Stream has recently attracted a large share of the attention of our men of science. The strange weather which we experienced last winter (see date of essay) has had something to do with this. The influence of the Gulf Stream upon our climate, and the special influence which it is assumed to exercise in mitigating the severity of our winters, have been so long recognised that meteorologists began to inquire what changes could be supposed to have taken place in the great current to account for so remarkable a winter as the last. But it happened also that at a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society early in the present year the very existence of the Gulf Stream was called in question, just when meteorologists were disposed to assign to it effects of unusual importance. And in the course of the discussion whether there is in truth a Gulf Stream—or rather whether our shores are visited by a current which merits such a name—a variety of interesting facts were adduced, which were either before unknown or had attracted little attention. As at a recent meeting of the same society these doubts have been renewed, I propose to examine briefly, in the first place, a few of the considerations which have been urged against the existence of a current from the Gulf of Mexico to the neighbourhood of our shores; and then, having rehabilitated the reputation of this celebrated ocean river—as I believe I shall be able to do—I shall proceed to give a brief sketch of the processes by which the current-system of the North Atlantic is set and maintained in motion.

In reality the Gulf Stream is only a part of a system of oceanic circulation; but in dealing with the arguments which have been urged against its very existence, we may confine our attention to the fact that, according to the views which had been accepted for more than a century, there is a stream of water which, running out of the Gulf Stream through the Narrows of Bemini, flows along the shores of the United States to Newfoundland, and thence right across the Atlantic to the shores of Great Britain. It is this last fact which is now called in question. The existence of a current as far as the neighbourhood of Newfoundland is conceded, but the fact that the stream flows onward to our shores is denied.

The point on which most stress is placed is the shallowness of the passage called the ‘Bemini Narrows,’ through which it is assumed that the whole of the Gulf current must pass. This passage has a width of about forty miles, and a depth of little more than six hundred yards. The current which flows through it is perhaps little more than thirty miles in width, and a quarter of a mile in depth. It is asked with some appearance of reason, how this narrow current can be looked upon as the parent of that wide stream which is supposed to traverse the Atlantic with a mean width of some five or six hundred miles. Indeed, a much greater width has been assigned to it, though on mistaken grounds; for it has been remarked that since waifs and strays from the tropics are found upon the shores of Portugal, as well as upon those of Greenland, we must ascribe to the current a span equal to the enormous space separating these places. But the circumstance here dwelt upon can clearly be explained in another way. We know that of two pieces of wood thrown into the Thames at Richmond, one might be picked up at Putney, and the other at Gravesend. Yet we do not conclude that the width of the Thames is equal to the distance separating Putney from Gravesend. And doubtless the tropical waifs which have been picked up on the shores of Greenland and of Portugal have found their way thither by circuitous courses, and not by direct transmission along opposite edges of the great Gulf current.

But certainly the difficulty associated with the narrowness of the Bemini current is one deserving of careful attention. Are we free to identify a current six hundred miles in width with one which is but thirty miles wide, and not very deep? An increase of width certainly not less than thirtyfold would appear to correspond to a proportionate diminution of depth. And remembering that it is only near the middle of the Narrows that the Gulf Stream has a depth of four hundred yards, we could scarcely assign to the wide current in the mid-Atlantic a greater depth than ten or twelve yards. This depth seems altogether out of proportion to the enormous lateral extension of the current.

But besides that even this consideration would not suffice to disprove the existence of a current in the mid-Atlantic, an important circumstance remains to be mentioned. The current in the Narrows flows with great velocity,—certainly not less than four or five miles an hour. As the current grows wider it flows more sedately; and opposite Cape Hatteras its velocity is already reduced to little more than three miles an hour. In the mid-Atlantic the current may be assumed to flow at a rate little exceeding a mile per hour, at the outside. Here, then, we have a circumstance which suffices to remove a large part of the difficulty arising from the narrowness of the Bemini current, and we can at once increase our estimate of the depth of the mid-Atlantic current fivefold.

But this is not all. It has long been understood that the current which passes out through the Narrows of Bemini corresponds to the portion of the great equatorial current which passes into the Gulf of Mexico between the West Indian Islands. We cannot doubt that the barrier formed by those islands serves to divert a large portion of the equatorial current. The portion thus diverted finds its way, we may assume, along the outside of the West Indian Archipelago, and thus joins the other portion—which has in the meantime made the circuit of the Gulf—as it issues from the Bemini Straits. All the maps in which the Atlantic currents are depicted present precisely such an outside current as I have here spoken of, and most of them assign to it a width exceeding that of the Bemini current. Indeed, were it not for the doubts which the recent discussions have thrown upon all the currents charted by seamen, I should have been content to point to this outside current as shown in the maps. As it is, I have thought is necessary to show that such a current must necessarily have an existence, since we cannot lose sight of the influence of the West Indian Isles in partially damming up the passage along which the equatorial current would otherwise find its way into the Gulf of Mexico. Whatever portion of the great current is thus diverted must find a passage elsewhere, and no passage exists for it save along the outside of the West Indian Isles.

The possibility that the wide current which has been assumed to traverse the mid-Atlantic may be associated with the waters which flow from the Gulf of Mexico, either through the Narrows or round the outside of the barrier formed by the West Indies, has thus been satisfactorily established. But we now have to consider difficulties which have been supposed to encounter our current on its passage from the Gulf to the mid-Atlantic.

Northwards, along the shores of the United States, the current has been traced by the singular blueness of its waters until it has reached the neighbourhood of Newfoundland. Over a part of this course, indeed, the waters of the current are of indigo blue, and so clearly marked that their line of junction with the ordinary sea-water can be traced by the eye. ‘Often,’ says Captain Maury, ‘one half of a vessel may be perceived floating in Gulf Stream water, while the other half is in common water of the sea—so sharp is the line, and such the want of affinity between the waters, and such, too, the reluctance, so to speak, on the part of those of the Gulf Stream, to mingle with the littoral waters of the sea.’

But it is now denied that there is any current beyond the neighbourhood of Newfoundland—or that the warm temperature, which has characterised the waters of the current up to this point, can be detected farther out.

It is first noticed that, as the Gulf current must reach the neighbourhood of Newfoundland with a north-easterly motion, and, if it ever reached the shores of the British Isles, would have to travel thither with an almost due easterly motion, there is a change of direction to be accounted for. This, however, is an old, and I had supposed exploded, fallacy. The course of the Gulf Stream from the Bemini Straits to the British Isles corresponds exactly with that which is due to the combined effects of the motion of the water and that of the earth upon its axis. Florida being much nearer than Ireland to the equator, has a much more rapid easterly motion. Therefore, as the current gets farther and farther north, the effect of the easterly motion thus imparted to it begins to show itself more and more, until the current is gradually changed from a north-easterly to an almost easterly stream. The process is the exact converse of that by which the air-currents from the north gradually change into the north-westerly trade-winds as they get farther south.

But it is further remarked that as the current passes out beyond the shelter of Newfoundland, it is impinged upon by those cold currents from the arctic seas which are known to be continually flowing out of Baffin’s Bay and down the eastern shores of Greenland; and it is contended that these currents suffice, not merely to break up the Gulf current, but so to cool its waters that these could produce no effect upon the climate of Great Britain if they ever reached its neighbourhood.

Here, again, I must remark that we are dealing with no new discovery. Captain Maury has already remarked upon this peculiarity. ‘At the very season of the year,’ he says, ‘when the Gulf Stream is rushing in greatest volume through the Straits of Florida, and hastening to the north with the greatest rapidity, there is a cold stream from Baffin’s Bay, Labrador, and the coasts of the north, running south with equal velocity.... One part of it underruns the Gulf Stream, as is shown by the icebergs, which are carried in a direction tending across its course.’ There can be no doubt, in fact, that this last circumstance indicates the manner in which the main contest between the two currents is settled. A portion of the arctic current finds its way between the Gulf Stream and the continent of America; and this portion, though narrow, has a very remarkable effect in increasing the coldness of the American winters. But the main part, (heavier, by reason of its coldness, than the surrounding water,) sinks beneath the surface. And the well-known fact mentioned by Maury, that icebergs have been seen stemming the Gulf Stream, suffices to show how comparatively shallow that current is at this distance from its source, and thus aids to remove a difficulty which we have already had occasion to deal with.

Doubtless the cooling influence of the arctic currents is appreciable; but it would be a mistake to suppose that this influence can suffice to deprive the Gulf current of its distinctive warmth. If all the effect of the cold current were operative on the Gulf Stream alone we might suppose that, despite the enormous quantity of comparatively warm water which is continually being carried northwards, the current would be reduced to the temperature of the surrounding water. But this is not so. The arctic current not only cools the Gulf current, but the surrounding water also—possibly to a greater extent, for it is commonly supposed that a bed of ordinary sea-water separates the two main currents from each other. Thus the characteristic difference of temperature remains unaffected. But in reality we may assume that the cooling effect actually exercised by the arctic current upon the neighbouring sea is altogether disproportionate to the immense amount of heat continually being carried northwards by the Gulf Stream. It is astonishing how unreadily two sea-currents exchange their temperatures—to use a somewhat inexact mode of expression. The very fact that the littoral current of the United States is so cold—a fact thoroughly established—shows how little warmth this current has drawn from the neighbouring seas. Another fact, mentioned by Captain Maury, bears in a very interesting manner upon this peculiarity. He says: ‘If any vessel will take up her position a little to the northward of Bermuda, and steering thence for the capes of Virginia, will try the water-thermometer all the way at short intervals, she will find its reading to be now higher, now lower; and the observer will discover that he has been crossing streak after streak of warm and cool water in regular alternations.’ Each portion maintains its own temperature, even in the case of such warm streaks as these, all belonging to one current.

Similar considerations dispose of the arguments which have been founded on the temperature of the sea-bottom. It has been proved that the living creatures which people the lower depths of the sea exist under circumstances which evidence a perfect uniformity of temperature; and arguments on the subject of the Gulf Stream have been derived from the evidence of what is termed a minimum thermometer—that is, a thermometer which will indicate the lowest temperature it has been exposed to—let down into the depths of the sea. All such arguments, whether adduced against or in favour of the Gulf Stream theory, must be held, to be futile, since the thermometer in its descent may pass through several submarine currents of different temperature.

Lastly, an argument has been urged against the warming effects of the Gulf Stream upon our climate which requires to be considered with some attention. It is urged that the warmth derived from so shallow a current as the Gulf Stream must be, by the time it has reached our shores, could not provide an amount of heat sufficient to affect our climate to any appreciable extent. The mere neighbourhood of this water at a temperature slightly higher than that due to the latitude could not, it is urged, affect the temperature of the inland counties at all.

This argument is founded on a misapprehension of the beautiful arrangement by which Nature carries heat from one region to distribute it over another. Over the surface of the whole current the process of evaporation is going on at a greater rate than over the neighbouring seas, because the waters of the current are warmer than those which surround them. The vapour thus rising above the Gulf Stream is presently wafted by the south-westerly winds to our shores and over our whole land. But as it thus reaches a region of comparative cold, the vapour is condensed—that is, turned into fog, or mist, or cloud, according to circumstances. It is during this change that it gives out the heat it has brought with it from the Gulf Stream. For precisely as the evaporation of water is a process requiring heat, the change of vapour into water—whether in the form of fog, mist, cloud, or rain—is a process in which heat is given out. Thus it is that the south-westerly wind, the commonest wind we have, brings clouds and fogs and rain to us from the Gulf Stream, and with them brings the Gulf Stream warmth.

Why the south-westerly winds should be so common, and how it is that over the Gulf Stream there is a sort of air-channel along which winds come to us as if by their natural pathway, are matters inquired into farther on (see p. 164). The subject is full of interest, but need not here detain us.

It would seem that a mechanism involving the motion of such enormous masses of water as the current-system of the Atlantic should depend on the operation of very evident laws. Yet a variety of contradictory hypotheses have been put forward from time to time respecting this system of circulation, and even now the scientific world is divided between two opposing theories.

Of old the Mississippi River was supposed to be the parent of the Gulf Stream. It was noticed that the current flows at about the same rate as the Mississippi, and this fact was considered sufficient to support the strange theory that a river can give birth to an ocean-current.

It was easy, however, to overthrow this theory. Captain Livingston showed that the volume of water which is poured out of the Gulf of Mexico in the form of an ocean stream is more than a thousand times greater than the volume poured into the Gulf by the Mississippi River.

Having overthrown this old theory of the Gulf Stream, Captain Livingston attempted to set up one which is equally unfounded. He ascribed the current to the sun’s apparent yearly motion and the influence thus exerted on the waters of the Atlantic. A sort of yearly tide is conceived, according to this theory, to be the true parent of the Gulf current. It need hardly be said, however, that a phenomenon which remains without change through the winter and summer seasons cannot possibly be referred to the operation of such a cause as a yearly tide.

It is to Dr. Franklin that we owe the first theory of the Gulf Stream which has met with general acceptance. He held that the Gulf Stream is formed by the outflow of waters which have been forced into the Caribbean Sea by the trade-winds; so that the pressure of these winds on the Atlantic Ocean forms, according to Dr. Franklin, the true motive power of the Gulf Stream machinery. According to Maury, this theory has ‘come to be the most generally received opinion in the mind of seafaring people.’ It supplies a moving force of undoubted efficiency. We know that as the trade-winds travel towards the equator they lose their westerly motion. It is reasonable to suppose that this is caused by friction against the surface of the ocean, to which, therefore, a corresponding westerly motion must have been imparted.

There is a simplicity about Franklin’s theory which commends it favourably to consideration. But when we examine it somewhat more closely, several very decided flaws present themselves to our attention.

Consider, in the first place, the enormous mass of water moved by the supposed agency of the winds. Air has a weight—volume for volume—which is less than one eight-hundredth part of that of water. So that, to create a water-current, an air-current more than eight hundred times as large and of equal velocity must expend the whole of its motion. Now the trade-winds are gentle winds, their velocity scarcely exceeding in general that of the more swiftly-moving portions of the Gulf Stream. But even assigning to them a velocity four times as great, we still want an air-current two hundred times as large as the water-current. And the former must give up the whole of its motion, which, in the case of so elastic a substance as air, would hardly happen, the upper air being unlikely to be much affected by the motion of the lower.

But this is far from being all. If the trade-winds blew throughout the year, we might be disposed to recognise their influence upon the Gulf Stream as a paramount, if not the sole one. But this is not the case. Captain Maury states that, ‘With the view of ascertaining the average number of days during the year that the north-east trade-winds of the Atlantic operate upon the currents between twenty-five degrees north latitude and the equator, log-books containing no less than 380,284 observations on the force and direction of the wind in that ocean were examined. The data thus afforded were carefully compared and discussed. The results show that within these latitudes—and on the average—the wind from the north-east is in excess of the winds from the south-west only 111 days out of the 365. Now, can the north-east trades,‘ he pertinently asks, ‘by blowing for less than one-third of the time, cause the Gulf Stream to run all the time, and without varying its velocity either to their force or to their prevalence?’

And besides this, we have to consider that no part of the Gulf Stream flows strictly before the trade-winds. Where the current flows most rapidly, namely, in the Narrows of Bemini, it sets against the wind, and for hundreds of miles after it enters the Atlantic ‘it runs,’ says Maury, ‘right in the “wind’s eye.”‘ It must be remembered that a current of air directed with considerable force against the surface of still water has not the power of generating a current which can force its way far through the resisting fluid. If this were so, we might understand how the current, originating in sub-tropical regions, could force its way onward after the moving force had ceased to act upon it, and even carry its waters right against the wind, after leaving the Gulf of Mexico. But experience is wholly opposed to this view. The most energetic currents are quickly dispersed when they reach a wide expanse of still water. For example, the Niagara below the falls is an immense and rapid river. Yet when it reaches Lake Ontario, ‘instead of preserving its character as a distinct and well-defined stream for several hundred miles, it spreads itself out, and its waters are immediately lost in those of the lake.’ Here, again, the question asked by Maury bears pertinently on the subject we are considering. ‘Why,’ he says, ‘should not the Gulf Stream do the same? It gradually enlarges itself, it is true; but, instead of mingling with the ocean by broad spreading, as the immense rivers descending into the northern lakes do, its waters, like a stream of oil in the ocean, preserve a distinctive character for more than three thousand miles.’

The only other theory which has been considered in recent times to account satisfactorily for all the features of the Gulf Stream mechanism was put forward, we believe, by Captain Maury. In this theory, the motive power of the whole system of oceanic circulation is held to be the action of the sun’s heat upon the waters of the sea. We recognise two contrary effects as the immediate results of the sun’s action. In the first place, by warming the equatorial waters, it tends to make them lighter; in the second place, by causing evaporation, it renders them salter, and so tends to make them heavier. We have to inquire which form of action is most effective. The inquiry would be somewhat difficult, if we had not the evidence of the sea itself to supply an answer. For it is an inquiry to which ordinary experimental processes would not be applicable. We must accept the fact that the heated water from the equatorial seas actually does float upon the cooler portions of the Atlantic, as evidence that the action of the sun results in making the water lighter.

Now, Maury says that the water thus lightened must flow over and form a surface-current towards the Poles; while the cold and heavy water from the polar seas, as soon as it reaches the temperate zone, must sink and form a submarine current. He recognises in these facts the mainspring of the whole system of oceanic circulation. If a long trough be divided into two compartments, and we fill one with oil and the other with water, and then remove the dividing plate, we shall see the oil rushing over the water at one end of the trough, and the water rushing under the oil at the other. And if we further conceive that oil is continually being added at that end of the trough originally filled with oil, while water is continually added at the other, it is clear that the system of currents would continue in action: that is, there would be a continual flow of oil in one direction along the surface of the water, and of water in the contrary direction underneath the oil.

But Sir John Herschel maintains that no such effects as Maury describes could follow the action of the sun’s heat upon the equatorial waters. He argues thus: Granting that these waters become lighter and expand in volume, yet they can only move upwards, downwards, or sideways. There can be nothing to cause either of the two first forms of motion; and as for motion sideways, it can only result from the gradual slope caused by the bulging of the equatorial waters. He proceeds to show that this slope is so slight that we cannot look upon it as competent to form any sensible current from the equatorial towards the polar seas. And even if it could, he says, the water thus flowing off would have an eastward instead of a westward motion, precisely as the counter-trade-winds, blowing from equatorial to polar regions, have an eastward motion.

It is singular how completely the supporter of each rival view has succeeded in overthrowing the arguments of his opponent. Certainly Maury has shown with complete success that the inconstant trade-winds cannot account for the constant Gulf current, which does not even flow before them, but, in places, exactly against their force. And the reasoning of Sir John Herschel seems equally cogent, for certainly the flow of water from equatorial towards polar regions ought from the first to have an eastward, instead of a westward motion; whereas the equatorial current, of which the Gulf Stream is but the continuation, flows from east to west, right across the Atlantic.

Equally strange is it to find that each of these eminent men, having read the arguments of the other, reasserts, but does not effectually defend, his own theory, and repeats with even more damaging effect his arguments against the rival view.

Yet one or other theory must at least point to the true view, for the Atlantic is subject to no other agencies which can for a moment be held to account for a phenomenon of such magnitude as the Gulf Stream.

It appears to me, that on a close examination of the Gulf Stream mechanism, the true mainspring of its motion can be recognised. Compelled to reject the theory that the trade-winds generate the equatorial current westward, let us consider whether Herschel’s arguments against the ‘heat theory’ may not suggest a hint for our guidance. He points out that an overflow from the equator polewards would result in an eastward, and not in a westward, current. This is true. It is equally true that a flow of water towards the equator would result in a westward current. But no such flow is observed. Is it possible that there may be such a flow, but that it takes place in a hidden manner? Clearly there may be. Submarine currents towards the equator would have precisely the kind of motion we require, and if any cause drew them to the surface near the equator, they would account in full for the great equatorial westward current.

At this point we begin to see that an important circumstance has been lost sight of in dealing with the heat theory. The action of the sun on the surface-water of the equatorial Atlantic has only been considered with reference to its warming effects. But we must not forget that this action has drying effects also. It evaporates enormous quantities of water, and we have to inquire whence the water comes by which the sea-level is maintained. A surface flow from the sub-tropical seas would suffice for this purpose, but no such flow is observed. Whence, then, can the water come but from below? Thus we recognise the fact that a process resembling suction is continually taking place over the whole area of the equatorial Atlantic, the agent being the intense heat of the tropical sun. No one can doubt that this agent is one of adequate power. Indeed, the winds, conceived by Franklin to be the primary cause of the Atlantic currents, are in reality due to the merest fraction of the energy inherent in the sun’s heat.

We have other evidence that the indraught is from below in the comparative coldness of the equatorial current. The Gulf Stream is warm by comparison with the surrounding waters, but the equatorial current is cooler than the tropical seas. According to Professor Ansted, the southern portion of the equatorial current, as it flows past Brazil, ‘is everywhere a cold current, generally from four to six degrees below the adjacent ocean.’

If we here recognise the mainspring of the Gulf Stream mechanism, or rather of the whole system of oceanic circulation-for the movements observed in the Atlantic have their exact counterpart in the Pacific—we shall have no difficulty in accounting for all the motions which that mechanism exhibits. We need no longer look upon the Gulf Stream as the rebound of the equatorial current from the shores of North America. Knowing that there is an underflow towards the equator, we see that there must be a surface-flow towards the Poles. And this flow must as inevitably result in an easterly motion as the underflow towards the equator results in a westerly motion. We have, indeed, the phenomena of the trades and counter-trades exhibited in water-currents instead of air-currents.

(From the _St. Paul’s Magazine_, September 1869.)[9]

_FLOODS IN SWITZERLAND._

Recently (see date of essay) we have witnessed a succession of remarkable evidences of Nature’s destructive powers. The fires of Vesuvius, the earth-throes of the sub-equatorial Andes, and the submarine disturbance which has shaken Hawaii, have presented to us the various forms of destructive action which the earth’s, subterranean forces can assume. In the disastrous floods which have recently visited the Alpine cantons of Switzerland, we have evidence of the fact that natural forces which we are in the habit of regarding as beneficent and restorative may exhibit themselves as agents of the most widespread destruction. I have pointed out elsewhere (see p. 226) how enormous is the amount of power of which the rain-cloud is the representative; and in doing so I have endeavoured to exhibit the contrast between the steady action of the falling shower and the energy of the processes of which rain is in reality the equivalent. But in the floods which have lately ravaged Switzerland we see the same facts illustrated, not by numerical calculations or by the results of philosophical experiments, but in action, and that action taking place on the most widely extended scale. The whole of the south-eastern, or, as it may be termed, the Alpine half of Switzerland, has suffered from these floods. If a line be drawn from the Lake of Constance, in the north-east of Switzerland, to the Col de Balme, in the south-west, it will divide Switzerland into two nearly equal portions, and scarcely a canton within the eastern of these divisions has escaped without great damage.

The cantons which have suffered most terribly are those of Tessin, Grisons, and St. Gall. The St. Gothard, Splugen, and St. Bernhardin routes have been rendered impassable. Twenty-seven lives were lost in the St. Gothard Pass, besides horses and waggons full of merchandise. It is stated that on the three routes upwards of eighty persons perished. In the village of Loderio alone, no less than fifty deaths occurred. So terrible a flood has not taken place since the year 1834. Nor have the cantons of Uri and Valais escaped. From Unterwalden we hear that the heavy rains which took place a fortnight ago have carried away several large bridges, and many of the rivers continue still very swollen. I have already described how enormous the material losses are which have been caused by these floods. Many places are under water; others in ruins or absolutely destroyed. In Tessin alone the damage is estimated at forty thousand pounds sterling.