Chapter XV: Report of Commander Peary, on Work Done in the Arctic in 1898–1902 (2)

This point was reached in the next march, and I stopped to take variation and latitude sights. Here my Eskimo shot a hare, and we saw a wolf track and traces of musk-oxen. A careful reconnoissance of the pack to the northward, with glasses, from an elevation of a hundred feet, showed the ice to be of a less impracticable character than it was north of Cape Washington. What were evidently water clouds showed very distinctly on the horizon. This water sky had been apparent ever since we left Cape Washington, and at one time assumed such a shape that I was almost deceived into taking it for land. Continued careful observation destroyed the illusion. My observations completed, we started northward over the pack, and camped a few miles from land.

The two following marches were made in a thick fog, through which we groped our way northward, over broken ice and across gigantic, wavelike drifts of hard snow. One more march in clear weather over frightful going—consisting of fragments of old floes; ridges of heavy ice thrown up to heights of twenty-five to fifty feet; crevasses and holes, masked by snow; the whole intersected by narrow leads of open water—brought us at 5 A. M. on the 16th of May to the northern edge of a fragment of an old floe bounded by water. A reconnoissance from the summit of a pinnacle of the floe, some fifty feet high, showed that we were on the edge of the disintegrated pack, with a dense water sky not far distant.

My hours for sleep at this camp were occupied in observations, and making a transit profile of the northern coast from Cape Washington eastward.

The next day I started back for the land, reached it in one long march and camped.

Within a mile of our next camp a herd of fifteen musk-oxen lay fast asleep; I left them undisturbed. From here on, for three marches, we made great distances over good going, in blinding sunshine, and in the face of a wind from the east which burned our faces like a sirocco.

The first march took us to a magnificent cape (Cape Bridgman), at which the northern face of the land trends away to the southeast. This cape is in the same latitude as Cape Washington. The next two carried us down the east coast to the 83d parallel. In the first of these we crossed the mouth of a large fiord penetrating for a long distance in a southwesterly (true) direction. On the next, in a fleeting glimpse through the fog, I saw a magnificent mountain of peculiar contour, which I recognised as the peak seen by me in 1895, from the summit of the interior ice-cap south of Independence Bay, rising proudly above the land to the north. This mountain was then named by me Mt. Wistar. Finally the density of the fog compelled a halt on the extremity of a low point, composed entirely of fine glacial drift, and which I judged to be a small island in the mouth of a large fiord.

From my camp of the previous night I had observed this island (?) and beyond and over it a massive block of a mountain, forming the opposite cape of a large intervening fiord, and beyond that again another distant cape. Open water was clearly visible a few miles off the coast, while not far out dark water clouds reached away to the southeast.

At this camp I remained two nights and a day, waiting for the fog to lift. Then, as there seemed to be no indication of its doing so, and my provisions were exhausted, I started on my return journey at 3:30 A. M. on the 22d of May, after erecting a cairn, in which I deposited the following record:

COPY OF RECORD IN CAIRN AT CLARENCE WYCKOFF ISLAND

Arrived here at 10:30 P. M., May 20th, from Etah via Fort Conger, and
north end of Greenland. Left Etah March 4th. Left Conger April 15th.
Arrived north end of Greenland May 13th. Reached point on sea ice
latitude 83° 50′ N., May 16th.

On arrival here had rations for one more march southward. Two days
dense fog have held me here. Am now starting back.

With me are my man Matthew Henson; Ahngmalokto, an Eskimo; sixteen
dogs and three sledges.

This journey has been made under the auspices of and with funds
furnished by the Peary Arctic Club of New York City.

The membership of this Club comprises: Morris K. Jesup, Henry W.
Cannon, Herbert L. Bridgman, John Flagler, E. C. Benedict, James J.
Hill, H. H. Benedict, Fred’k E. Hyde, E. W. Bliss, H. H. Sands, J. M.
Constable, C. F. Wyckoff, E. G. Wyckoff, Chas. P. Daly, Henry Parish,
A. A. Raven, G. B. Schley, E. B. Thomas, and others.

R. E. PEARY,
_Civil Engineer, U. S. N._

The fog kept company with us on our return almost continuously until we had passed Lockwood Island, but as we had a trail to follow, did not delay us as much as the several inches of heavy snow that fell in a blizzard, which came from the Polar basin, and imprisoned us for two days at Cape Bridgman.

At Cape Morris K. Jesup, the northern extremity, I erected a prominent cairn, in which I deposited the following record:

COPY OF RECORD IN NORTH CAIRN

May 13, 1900—5 A. M.

Have just reached here from Etah via Ft. Conger. Left Etah March 4th.
Left Conger April 15th. Have with me my man Henson, an Eskimo
Ahngmalokto, 16 dogs and three sledges; all in fair condition. Proceed
to-day due north (true) over sea ice. Fine weather. I am doing this
work under the auspices of and with funds furnished by the Peary
Arctic Club of New York City.

The membership of this Club comprises: Morris K. Jesup, Henry W.
Cannon, Herbert L. Bridgman, John H. Flagler, E. C. Benedict, Fred’k
E. Hyde, E. W. Bliss, H. H. Sands, J. M. Constable, C. F. Wyckoff, E.
G. Wyckoff, Chas. P. Daly, Henry Parish, A. A. Raven, E. B. Thomas,
and others.

R. E. PEARY,
_Civil Engineer, U. S. N._

May 17th.

Have returned to this point. Reached 83° 50′ N. Lat. due north of
here. Stopped by extremely rough ice, intersected by water cracks.
Water sky to north. Am now going east along the coast. Fine weather.

May 26th.

Have again returned to this place. Reached point on East Coast about
N. Lat. 83°. Open water all along the coast a few miles off. No land
seen to north or east. Last seven days continuous fogs, wind, and
snow. Is now snowing, with strong westerly wind. Temperature 20° F.
Ten musk-oxen killed east of here. Expect start for Conger to-morrow.

At Cape Washington, also, I placed a copy of Lockwood’s record, from the cairn at Lockwood Island with the following indorsement:

This copy of the record left by Lieut. J. B. Lockwood and Sergt. (now
Colonel) D. L. Brainard, U. S. A., in the cairn on Lockwood Island
southwest of here, May 16, 1882, is to-day placed by me in this cairn
on the farthest land seen by them, as a tribute to two brave men, one
of whom gave his life for his Arctic work.

May 29th, 1900.

For a few minutes on one of the marches the fog lifted, giving us a magnificent panorama of the north coast mountains. Very sombre and savage they looked, towering white as marble with the newly fallen snow, under their low, threatening canopy of lead-coloured clouds. Two herds of musk-oxen were passed, one of fifteen and one of eighteen, and two or three stragglers. Four of these were shot for dog-food, and the skin of one, killed within less than a mile of the extreme northern point, has been brought back as a trophy for the Club.

Once free of the fog off Mary Murray Island we made rapid progress, reaching Cape North in four marches from Cape Washington. Clear weather showed us the existence of open water a few miles off the shore, extending from Dome Cape to Cape Washington. At Black Cape there was a large open water reaching from the shore northward. Everywhere along this coast I was impressed by the startling evidence of the violence of the blizzard of a few days before. The polar pack had been driven resistlessly in against the iron coast, and at every projecting point had risen to the crest of the ridge of old ice, along the outer edge of the ice-foot, in a terrific cataract of huge blocks. In places these mountains of shattered ice were 100 feet or more in height. The old ice in the bays and fiords had had its outer edge loaded with a great ridge of ice fragments, and was itself cracked and crumpled into huge swells by the resistless pressure. All the young ice which had helped us on our onward passage had been crushed into countless fragments and swallowed up in the general chaos.

Though hampered by fog, the passage from Cape North to Cape Bryant was made in twenty-five and one-half marching hours. At 7 A. M. of the 6th of June we camped on the end of the ice-foot, at the eastern end of Black Horn Cliffs. A point a few hundred feet up the bluffs, commanding the region in front of the cliffs, showed it to be filled by small pieces of old ice, held in place against the shore by pressure of the outside pack. It promised at best the heaviest kind of work, with the certainty that it would run abroad at the first release of pressure.

The next day, when about one-third the way across, the ice did begin to open out, and it was only after a rapid and hazardous dash from cake to cake that we reached an old floe, which, after several hours of heavy work, allowed us to climb upon the ice-foot of the western end of the cliffs.

From here on rapid progress was made again, three more marches taking us to Conger, where we arrived at 1:30 A. M., June 10th, though the open water between Repulse Harbour and Cape Brevoort, which had now expanded down Robeson Channel to a point below Cape Sumner, and the rotten ice under Cape Sumner, hampered us seriously. In passing I took copies of the Beaumont English Records from the cairn at Repulse Harbour, and brought them back for the archives of the Club. They form one of the finest chapters of the most splendid courage, fortitude and endurance, under dire stress of circumstances, that is to be found in the history of Arctic explorations.

In this journey I had determined, conclusively, the northern limit of the Greenland Archipelago or land group, and had practically connected the coast southward to Independence Bay, leaving only that comparatively short portion of the periphery of Greenland lying between Independence Bay and Cape Bismarck indeterminate. The non-existence of land, for a very considerable distance to the northward and northeastward, was also settled, with every indication pointing to the belief that the coast along which we travelled formed the shore of an uninterrupted central Polar sea, extending to the Pole, and beyond to the Spitzbergen and Franz Joseph Land groups of the opposite hemisphere.

The origin of the floe-bergs and paleocrystic ice was definitely determined. Further than this, the result of the journey was to eliminate this route as a desirable or practicable one by which to reach the Pole. The broken character of the ice, the large amount of open water, and the comparatively rapid motion of the ice, as it swung round the northern coast into the southerly setting East Greenland current, were very unfavourable features.

During my absence some thirty-three musk-oxen and ten seals had been secured in the vicinity of Conger; caches for my return had been established at Thank God Harbour, Cape Lieber, and Lincoln Bay, and sugar, milk and tea had been brought up from the various caches between Conger and Cape Louis Napoleon.

July was passed by a portion of the party in the region from Discovery Harbour westward, _via_ Black Rock Vale and Lake Hazen, where some forty musk-oxen were secured.

During August and early September various other hunting trips of shorter duration were made, resulting in the killing of some twenty musk-oxen.

1900–1901

In the middle of September I started with Henson and four Eskimos to Lake Hazen, to secure musk-oxen for our winter supply, it being evident that my ship would not reach us. Going west as far as the valley of the Very River, by October 4th, ninety-two musk-oxen had been killed. Later nine more were secured, making a total of one hundred and one for the autumn hunting.

From the beginning of November to March 6th, the greater portion of the time was passed by my party in igloos built in the vicinity of the game killed in various localities, from Discovery Harbour to Ruggles River.

April 5th I left Conger with Henson, one Eskimo, two sledges and twelve dogs for my northern trip. At the same time the remainder of the party, with two sledges and seven dogs and pups, started south for Capes D’Urville and Sabine, to communicate with or obtain tidings of my ship. On reaching Lincoln Bay it was evident to me that the condition of men and dogs was such as to negative the possibility of reaching the Pole, and I reluctantly turned back.

Arriving at Conger, after an absence of eight days, I found the remainder of my party there. They had returned after an absence of four days, having proceeded one-third of the distance across Lady Franklin Bay. Fortunately, the night before I arrived, one of the Eskimos secured several musk-oxen above St. Patrick’s Bay, which enabled me to feed my dogs before starting south, which I did with the entire party on April 17th.

April 30th, at Hayes Point, I met a party from the _Windward_ attempting to reach Conger, and received my mail, learning that the _Windward_ was at Payer Harbour with Mrs. Peary and our little girl on board. After a rest at the D’Urville box house, I went on to the _Windward_, arriving May 6th.

After a few days’ rest the work of establishing new caches along the coast northward, toward Conger, was commenced and continued until the middle of June. Then the preparing of Payer Harbour for winter quarters was carried on till July 3d, when the _Windward_ broke out of the ice and steamed over to the Greenland side. July was devoted to killing walrus, and 128 were secured and transported to Payer Harbour.

August 4th, the _Erik_, sent up by the Club, in command of Secretary H. L. Bridgman, to communicate with me, arrived at Etah. The usual tour of visits to the Eskimo settlements was then made, and both ships pressed into the work of hunting walrus, until August 24th, when the _Windward_ proceeded southward, and the _Erik_ steamed away to land me and my party and the catch of walrus at Payer Harbour.

A large quantity of heavy ice blocking the way to Payer Harbour, I requested Secretary Bridgman to land me and my party and walrus meat, in a small bight, some twelve or fifteen miles south of Cape Sabine, from whence I could proceed to Payer Harbour in my boats or sledges when opportunity offered. This was done, and on the 29th of August the _Erik_ steamed away.

1901–1902

On the 16th of September I succeeded in reaching Payer Harbour, crossing Ross Bay, partly by sledge and partly by boat, and going overland across Bedford Pim Island.

Soon after this my Eskimos began to sicken, and by November 19th six of them were dead. During this time I personally sledged much of the material from Erik Harbour to headquarters, and Henson went to the head of Buchanan Bay with some of the Eskimos, and secured ten musk-oxen.

The winter passed quietly and comfortably. Two more musk-oxen were secured in Buchanan Bay, and six deer at Etah.

January 2d, work was begun in earnest on preparations for the spring campaign, which opened on the 11th of February. On this day I sent off six sledges, with light loads, to select a road across the mouth of Buchanan Bay, and build an igloo abreast of Cape Albert. On the 12th I sent two of my best hunters on a flying reconnoissance and bear hunt, in the direction of Cape Louis Napoleon.

On the 13th eight sledges went out, taking dog-food nearly to Cape D’Urville. On the 16th my two scouts returned with a favourable report, and on the 18th ten sledges went out loaded with dog-food to be taken to Cape Louis Napoleon. This party returned on the 22d. On the evening of the 28th, everything was in readiness for Henson to start the next day, it being my intention to send him on ahead with three picked men and light loads to pioneer the way to Conger; I to follow a few days later with the main party. A northerly gale delayed his departure until the morning of March 3d, when he got away with six sledges and some fifty dogs. Two of these sledges were to act as a supporting party as far as Cape Lawrence. At 9 A. M. of March 6th fourteen sledges trailed out of Payer Harbour and rounded Cape Sabine for the northern journey, and at noon I followed them, with my big sledge, the “Long Serpent,” drawn by ten fine grays. Two more sledges accompanied me. The temperature at the time was –20° F. The minimum of the previous night had been –38° F. We joined the others at the igloos abreast of Cape Albert and camped there for the night. Temperature –43° F. The next day we made Cape D’Urville in temperature from –45° to –49°F.

Here I stopped a day to dry our foot-gear thoroughly, and left on the morning of the 9th with some supplies from the box house. Two sledges returned from here. Camped about five miles from Cape Louis Napoleon. The next march carried me to Cape Fraser, and the next to Cape Collinson. During this march, for the first time in the four seasons that I have been over this route, I was able to take a nearly direct course across the mouth of Scoresby Bay, instead of making a long detour into it.

One march from Cape Collinson carried me to Cape Lawrence, on the north side of Rawlings Bay. The crossing of this bay, though more direct than usual, was over extremely rough ice. Learning from Henson’s letter at Cape Lawrence, that I had gained a day on him, and not wanting to overtake him before reaching Conger, I remained here a day, repairing several sledges which had been damaged in the last march. Five men with the worst sledges and poorest dogs returned from here. Three more marches took us to Cape L. von Buch on the north side of Carl Ritter Bay, temperature ranging from –35° to –45° F. Heavy going in many places.

Two more marches carried us to the first coast valley north of Cape Defosse. I had now gained two days on the advance party. The character of the channel ice being such that we were able to avoid the terrible ice-foot, which extends from here to Cape Lieber, and my dogs being still in good condition, I made a spurt from here and covered the distance to Conger in one march, arriving about an hour and a half after Henson and his party.

I had covered the distance from Payer Harbour to Conger, some 300 miles, in twelve marches.

Four days were spent at Conger overhauling sledges and harness, drying and repairing clothing, and scouting the country, as far as The Bellows, in search of musk-oxen. None were seen, but about 100 hare were secured in the four days. Temperature during this time from –40° to –57° F. Seven Eskimos returned from here, taking with them the instruments of the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, and other items of Government property abandoned here in 1883.

On the morning of the 24th I started north with nine sledges. We camped the first night at “Depot B.” The next march I had counted on making Lincoln Bay, but just before reaching Wrangel Bay a sudden furious gale with blinding drift drove us into camp at the south point of the bay. Here we were storm-bound during the 26th, but got away on the morning of the 27th and pushed on to Cape Union, encountering along this portion of the coast the steep side slopes of hard snow, which are so trying to men and sledges and dogs.

Open water, the clouds over which we saw from Wrangel Bay Camp, was about 100 yards beyond our igloo, and extended from there, as I judged, northward beyond Cape Rawson, and reached entirely across the channel to the Greenland coast at Cape Brevoort, as in 1900.

Fortunately, with the exercise of utmost care, and with a few narrow escapes, and incessant hard work, we were able to work our sledges along the narrow and dangerous ice-foot to and around Black Cape.

The ice-foot along this section of the coast was the same as was found here by Egerton and Rawson in 1876, and Pavy in 1882, necessitating the hewing of an almost continuous road; but a party of willing, lighthearted Eskimos makes comparatively easy work of what would be a slow and heart-breaking job for two or three white men. Beyond Black Cape the ice-foot improved in character, and I pushed along to camp at the _Alert’s_ winter quarters. Simultaneously with seeing the _Alert’s_ cairn three musk-oxen were seen a short distance inland, and secured. The animals were very thin and furnished but a scant meal for my dogs.

One march from here carried us to Cape Richardson, and the next under the lee of View Point, where we were stopped and driven to build our igloo with all possible speed by one of the common Arctic gales. There were young ice, pools of water, and a nearly continuous water sky all along the shore.

As the last march had been through deep snow, I did not dare to attempt the English short cut across Fielden Peninsula behind Cape Joseph Henry, preferring to take the ice-foot route round it.

For a short distance this was the worst bit of ice-foot I have ever encountered. By the slipping of my sledge two men nearly lost their lives, saving themselves by the merest chance, with their feet already dangling over the crest of a vertical face of ice some fifty feet in height. At the very extremity of the cape we were forced to pass our sledges along a shelf of ice, less than three feet in width, glued against the face of the cliff at an elevation which I estimated at the time as seventy-five feet above the ragged surface of the floe beneath. On the western side of the cape the ice-foot broadened and became nearly level, but was smothered in such a depth of light snow that it stalled us and we went into camp. The next day we made Crozier Island.

During April 2d and 3d we were held here by a westerly storm, and the 4th and 5th were devoted to hunting musk-oxen, of which three were secured, two of them being very small. From here I sent back three Eskimos, keeping Henson and four Eskimos with me.

Reconnoissances of the polar pack northward were made with the glasses from the summit of the island and from Cape Hecla.

The pack was very rough, but apparently not as bad as that which I saw north of Cape Washington two years before. Though unquestionably difficult, it yet looked as though we might make some progress through it unless the snow was too deep and soft. This was a detail which the glasses could not determine.

On the morning of April 6th I left Crozier Island, and a few hours later, at the point of Cape Hecla, we swung our sledges sharply to the right and climbed over and down the parapet of the ice-foot on to the polar pack. As the sledges plunged down from the ice-foot their noses were buried out of sight, the dogs wallowed belly deep in the snow, and we began our struggle due northward.

We had been in the field now just a month. We had covered not less than 400 miles of the most arduous travelling in temperatures of from –35° to –57° F., and we were just beginning our work, _i. e._, the conquest of the polar pack, the toughest undertaking in the whole expanse of the Arctic region.

Some two miles from the cape was a belt of very recent young ice, running parallel with the general trend of the coast. Areas of rough ice caught in this compelled us to exaggerated zigzags, and doubling on our track. It was easier to go a mile round, on the young ice, than to force the sledge across one of these islands.

The northern edge of the new ice was a high wall of heavily rubbled old ice, through which, after some reconnoissance, we found a passage to an old floe, where I gave the order to build an igloo. We were now about five miles from the land.

The morning of the 7th brought us fine weather. Crossing the old floe we came upon a zone of old floe fragments deeply blanketed with snow. Through the irregularities of this we struggled; the dogs floundering, almost useless, occasionally one disappearing for a moment; now treading down the snow round a sledge to dig it out of a hole into which it had sunk, now lifting the sledges bodily over a barrier of blocks; veering right and left; doubling in our track; road-making with snowshoe and pickaxe.

Late in the day a narrow ditch gave us a lift for a short distance, then one or two little patches of level going, then two or three small old floes which, though deep with snow, seemed like a Godsend compared with the wrenching earlier work. We camped in the lee of a large hummock on the northern edge of a small but very heavy old floe, everyone thoroughly tired, and the dogs dropping motionless in the snow as soon as the whip stopped.

We were now due north to Hecla, and I estimated we had made some six miles, perhaps seven, perhaps only five. A day of work like this makes it difficult to estimate distances. This is a fair sample of our day’s work.

On the 12th we were storm-bound by a gale from the west, which hid even those dogs fastened nearest to the igloo. During our stay here the old floes on which we were camped split in two with a loud report, and the ice cracked and rumbled and roared at frequent intervals.

In the first march beyond this igloo we were deflected westward by a lead of practically open water, the thin film of young ice covering it being unsafe even for a dog. A little further on a wide canal of open water deflected us constantly to the northwest and then west until an area of extremely rough ice prevented us from following it farther. Viewed from the top of a high pinnacle this area extended west and northwest on both sides of the canal, as far as could be seen. I could only camp and wait for this canal, which evidently had been widened (though not newly formed) by the storm of the day before, to close up or freeze over. During our first sleep at this camp there was a slight motion of the lead, but not enough to make it practicable. From here I sent back two more Eskimos.

Late in the afternoon of the 14th the lead began to close, and hastily packing the sledges we hurried them across over moving fragments of ice. We now found ourselves in a zone of high parallel ridges of rubble ice covered with deep snow. These ridges were caused by successive opening and closing of the lead. When, after some time, we found a practicable pass through this barrier, we emerged upon a series of very small but extremely heavy and rugged old floes; the snow on them still deeper and softer than on the southern side of the lead. At the end of a sixteen-hour day I called a halt, though we were only two or three miles north of the big lead.

During the first portion of the next march we passed over fragments of very heavy old floes slowly moving eastward. Frequently we were obliged to wait for the pieces to crush close enough together to let us pass from one to the other. Farther on I was compelled to bear away due east by an impracticable area extending west, northwest, north and northeast as far as could be seen, and just as we had rounded this and were bearing away to the north again, we were brought up by a lead some fifty feet wide. From this on, one day was much like another, sometimes doing a little better sometimes a little worse, but the daily advance, in spite of our best efforts, steadily decreasing. Fog and stormy weather also helped to delay us.

I quote from my Journal:

_April 21st._—The game is off. My dream of sixteen years is ended. It cleared during the night and we got under way this morning, deep snow. Two small old floes. Then came another region of old rubble and deep snow. A survey from the top of a pinnacle showed this extending north, east and west, as far as could be seen. The two old floes, over which we had just come, are the only ones in sight. It is impracticable and I gave the order to camp. I have made the best fight, I knew. I believe it has been a good one. But I cannot accomplish the impossible.

A few hours after we halted there came from the ice to the north a sound like that made by a heavy surf, and it continued during our stay at this camp. Evidently the floes in that direction were crushing together under the influence of the wind, or what was, perhaps, more probable, from the long continuation of the noise, the entire pack was in slow motion to the east. A clear day enabled me to get observations which showed my latitude to be 84° 17′ 27″ N., magnetic variation, 99° west. I took some photographs of the camp, climbed and floundered through the broken fragments and waist-deep snow for a few hundred yards north of the camp, gave the dogs a double ration, then turned in to sleep, if possible, for a few hours preparatory to returning.

We started on our return soon after midnight of the 21st. It was very thick, with wind from the west and snowing heavily. I hurried our departure in order to utilise as much of our tracks as possible before they were obliterated. It was very difficult to keep the trail in the uncertain light and driving snow. We lost it repeatedly, when we would be obliged to quarter the surface like bird dogs. On reaching the last lead of the upward march, instead of the open water which had interrupted our progress then, our tracks now disappeared under a huge pressure ridge, which I estimated to be from seventy-five to one hundred feet high. Our trail was faulted here by the movement of the floes, and we lost time in picking it up on the other side.

This was to me a trying march. I had had no sleep the night before, and to the physical strain of handling my sledge was added the mental tax of trying to keep the trail. When we finally camped, it was only for a few hours, for I recognised that the entire pack was moving slowly, and that our trail was everywhere being faulted and interrupted by new pressure ridges and leads, in a way to make our return march nearly, if not quite, as slow and laborious as the outward one. The following marches were much the same. In crossing one lead I narrowly escaped losing two sledges and the dogs attached to them. Arrived at the “Grand Canal,” as I called the big lead at which I had sent two Eskimos back, the changes had been such as to make the place almost unrecognisable.

Two marches south of the Grand Canal the changes in the ice had been such, between the time of our upward trip and the return of my two men from the canal, that they, experienced as they were in all that pertains to ice-craft, had been hopelessly bewildered and wandered apparently, for at least a day, without finding the trail. After their passage other changes had taken place, and, as a result, I set a compass course for the land, and began making a new road. In the next march we picked up our old trail again.

Early in the morning of the 22d, we reached the second igloo out from Cape Hecla, and camped in a driving snowstorm. At this igloo we were storm-bound during the 27th and 28th, getting away on the 29th in the densest fog, and bent on butting our way in a “bee” line compass course, for the land. Floundering through the deep snow and ice, saved from unpleasant falls only by the forewarning of the dogs, we reached Crozier Island after a long and weary march. The band of young ice along the shore had disappeared, crushed up into confused ridges and mounds of irregular blocks.

The floe at the island camp had split in two, the crack passing through our igloo, the halves of which stared at each other across the chasm. This march finished two of my dogs, and three or four more were apparently on their last legs. We did not know how tired we were until we reached the island. The warm foggy weather and the last march together dropped our physical barometer several degrees.

SIDE
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FRONT
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HEAD OF RANGIFER PEARYI, ALLEN. Killed near Cape Joseph Henry, _October,
1905_

AHNGMALOKTO
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PEWAHTO
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AHNGODOBLAHO
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PANIKPAH
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ESKIMOS OF THE “FARTHEST NORTH” PARTY

As we now had light sledges, I risked the short cut across the base of Fielden Peninsula and camped that night under the lee of View Point. Four more marches carried us to Conger, where we remained three days, drying clothing and repairing sledges, and giving the dogs a much needed rest. Leaving Conger on the 6th of May, eleven marches brought us back to Payer Harbour on the 17th of May. A few days after this I went north to complete the survey of the inner portions of Dobbin Bay, being absent from headquarters some ten days. Open water vetoing a trip which I had planned for June up Buchanan Bay and across to the west coast of Ellesmere Land, the remainder of the time was devoted to assiduous hunting, in order to secure a supply of meat for the winter, in the contingency of no ship arriving.

On the 5th of August the new _Windward_, sent north by the Club, and bringing to me Mrs. Peary and my little girl, steamed into the harbour. As soon as people and supplies could be hurried aboard her, she steamed across the Sound to the Greenland side. Here my faithful Eskimos were landed, and, after devoting a week or so to the work of securing sufficient walrus to carry them in comfort through the winter, the _Windward_ steamed southward, and, after an uneventful voyage, arrived at Sydney, C. B., on the 17th of September, where I had the pleasure of meeting Secretary Bridgman, of the Club, and forwarding through him a brief report of my movements during the past year.

A NEW CARIBOU FROM ELLESMERE LAND[4]

BY J. A. ALLEN

Footnote 4:

_Bulletin_ Am. Museum of Nat. History, Vol. xvi, Article xxxii.

The valuable natural history material brought by the Arctic explorer, Commander R. E. Peary, U. S. N., to the American Museum of Natural History on his return from his recent long sojourn in the high North contains five specimens of Caribou taken in Ellesmere Land, Lat. 79°, in June, 1902. They comprise four flat skins of adults without skulls, and more or less defective, and the complete skin of a young fawn. In colouration they are strikingly different from any other known Caribou, being pure white except for a large dark patch on the middle and posterior part of the back.

ELLESMERE LAND CARIBOU

_Rangifer Pearyi_, sp. nov.

Type, No. 19231 ♂ ad., Ellesmere Land, N. Lat. 79°, June 15, 1902,
Commander Robert E. Peary, U. S. N.

Entire animal pure white except an oval grayish brown patch over the
posterior half of the dorsal surface, gradually fading into white
toward the shoulders, the hair being white to the base, or of a pale
shade of lilac below the surface, where the surface colour is white.
The dorsal patch occupies an area of about 670 mm. in length by 350
mm. in width, and is drab-gray, divided by a very narrow median line
of white. The legs and feet are wholly white; the ears are slightly
tinged with gray, the hair beneath the surface being plumbeous and
showing slightly at the surface. The antlers are just budding, being
represented by small protuberances, about an inch and a half in
length, covered with short hair. Total length of flat skin, 1660 mm.
Corresponding measurement of flat skins of the dark form of Caribou
from Greenland, 1820 mm.

A female (No. 19232) is similar, except that the dark dorsal area
extends a little further forward at the shoulders, and is a little
darker. As in the male, the patch fades out to whitish toward the
shoulders. Length of the flat skin, 1560 mm.

Two other females are similarly marked, but the dorsal patch in both
is much darker, approaching dark slate gray. The region around the
base of the antlers and ears is clouded with grayish, as are the edges
of the ears; the front surface of the forelegs is dark grayish brown,
and of the hind legs faint buffy grayish brown, increasing in amount
and intensity apically from the tarsal joint to the hoofs. These skins
measure respectively 1610 and 1570 mm. in total length. In one the
antlers form knobs an inch or two in height, covered with short hair.

A fawn (No. 19235), a few weeks old, is grayish white on the head,
ears, neck, limbs, ventral surface and sides of the body, the hairs
being dusky basally and broadly tipped with white, the dusky basal
portion showing through the white enough to give a general dingy
effect. The top of the nose and a narrow band bordering the nostrils
are blackish, passing posteriorly on the upper part of the rostrum
into brownish dusky; a broad central band from the nose nearly to the
ears is darker or more dingy than the sides of the face; a rusty
brownish spot marks the point where the antlers are to appear, and
there is a faint rusty wash on the sides of the face both before and
behind the rusty antler spots. The back is marked by a strongly
defined, very narrow, ferruginous line, running from the nape to the
base of the tail, which, over the middle of the back, broadens a
little and darkens to deep dusky ferruginous; the whole dorsal area,
from a little behind the shoulders to the rump, is pale fawn colour,
darkest medially and fading out on the sides to pale buffy white. This
coloured area corresponds in position and outline with the dark dorsal
patch of the adults. A narrow, ill-defined, dusky chestnut-brown band
borders the hoofs of all the feet, but is rather broader and more
distinct on the hind feet than on the fore feet. The tail is wholly
white to the base, as in the adults.

The adult specimens, though killed in June, are in winter coat, the hair being long, thick, and very soft, much softer and finer than in the Greenland Caribou, and the skins are also much thinner and softer. The skin of the fawn was preserved in brine, which may have slightly intensified or darkened the buffy shades of the dorsal surface.

_Rangifer Pearyi_ is evidently a very distinct insular form, very different from _R. Grœnlandicus_ in colouration and doubtless in other features. Unfortunately only flat skins are available for examination. Specimens of _R. Grœnlandicus_ in corresponding pelage are dark slaty brown above, this colour fading gradually on the sides to the white of the ventral surface, the Greenland Caribou being very much darker in its winter pelage than the Newfoundland Caribou, which heretofore has been the whitest known form of the group.

I am indebted to Commander Peary for the following information regarding the occurrence of Caribou in Ellesmere Land. In a letter dated Philadelphia, October 13, 1902, he says: “In answer to your inquiries I will say that remains and traces of reindeer have been noted by previous explorers at the following points in Ellesmere Land and Grinnell Land: Alexandra Haven, Ellesmere Land; Rawlings Bay, Grinnell Land, and in the Fort Conger region, Grinnell Land; and an antler was picked up by a member of my party in the summer of 1901 at Erik Harbour, some twelve miles south of Cape Sabine. The published reports of Sverdrup’s expedition state that he found reindeer in abundance on the west side of Ellesmere Land.

“I have seen many winter coats of the Greenland Caribou and they are pronouncedly darker than the Ellesmere specimens.”