Ice and the North
Sometimes a topic in our history possibly worth exploring will arise from almost nowhere. Casually reading a few dates and times a week ago, I came upon the fact that Capt. Bob Bartlett had brought his ship Windward into Brigus harbour on Sept. 27, 1901, after a long time away in the far North. Among those on board was none other than Robert Edwin Peary, who (dubious distinction) would become the alleged first (white) man to reach the North Pole eight years in the future.
To see how Brigus reacted to the arrival of the celebrated Peary that autumn day 118 years ago, I turned to The Evening Telegram of that date and discovered that almost nothing happened. Or, perhaps more truthfully, the reporter wrote next to nothing beyond the fact that Windward had arrived home.
So I dug further in an assortment of sources and learned from Harold Horwood (“Bartlett, The Great Explorer” 1977) that Windward had left New York Harbour in the summer of 1898 for what was the start of Peary’s first attempt to get into the Arctic Ocean. Horwood goes on the describe “four fruitless years on Ellesmere” building a camp, carrying in supplies, but doing very little to get closer to the pole. Presumably on the trip back home there was ample time to cook up great plans for the next northerly trip, again, of course, with the pole goal).
The Evening Telegram reported on Friday, Sept. 27, 1901:
“The Windward arrived back from the Polar regions yesterday to Brigus. She is commanded by Captain Bartlett and left last summer to go to the north with Mrs. Peary and a party of scientists in search of Lieutenant Peary, conveying food and relief stores for the daring American explorer. She” (the vessel, not Mrs. Peary) “became frozen in Sabine Bay. This summer, the Erik went there and found the Windward. The meeting with Peary did not take place until after the Erik arrived. The Windward brings a load of walrus ivory and other valuable products of the Polar regions.”
That “last summer” is most likely incorrect. It seems Windward remained trapped (Horwood mentions four years) until the vessel Erik came up in the summer of 1901 with Peary’s wife and other passengers aboard, met up with Windward and crew who then travelled (trekked or sailed, it doesn’t say) to where Peary on the island was doing little to bring the pole closer.
Windward, by the way, was a wimp. The boat was a gift from Lord Northcliffe (that family would open the paper mill in Grand Falls the same year that Peary returned from his last expedition with his story about reaching 90 degrees north (and with no proof). Windward was not designed for the task put to it by Bartlett, his wild and (perhaps) irrational uncle John, also a sea-going man, and Peary. A square-rigger, Windward had a small, 25-horsepower coal-fired engine which would not even get the boat over the challenge of the incoming tides in New York Harbour. Several sources I checked, including that of Heritage Newfoundland online say that Windward returned in 1902. But the news note given above was most assuredly from The Evening Telegram of Sept. 27, 1901.
Apart from some curious confusions, it matters little now.
Another ice encounter
In the same month (September 1901) and a month when you don’t expect ice stories, a Gloucester fishing vessels took over a great chunk of the Evening Telegram’s news columns on the 30th to tell of a “Halifax Captain’s Escape.” It must have been generally known that Capt. James Hayes was a son of Halifax for there is no mention of this save for the story’s headline.
On the morning of Sept. 30, the schooner Admiral Dewey, “from the Arctic seas” entered Halifax Harbour, concluding a fletched halibut voyage (they were filleting the halibut at sea). They had been as far north as latitude 59 degrees, longitude 60 in the Davis Strait, “going outside Newfoundland.”
“Ice was met in great quantities after June 27th., about 200 miles to the northward of Belle Isle. On the night of July 22nd., while the vessel was at anchor the crew had an experience which they will never forget.
“It was very foggy at the time; the men were below in their berths when the vessel was struck by an enormous wall of ice which was about 100 feet long and 220 feet wide. The fortunate circumstance in this collision was that the sides of the berg were perpendicular and not very jagged as is usually the case with those floating bergs. The impact of this enormous mass of ice was so great the sleeping crew were thrown violently from their berths to the floor. They mustered hastily on deck and every effort was put forth to rescue the vessel from the embrace of the icy monster. The chances seemed against it. Wind and tide bore the mountain right on the vessel and there was imminent danger that it might disintegrate in huge masses and crush the vessel and crew. The men bent every effort to the rescue until dawn when they were forced to cut the cable of 100 fathoms in order to free the vessel. Enormous quantities of sea birds were seen accompanying the bergs. The ice effectively prevented what otherwise would have been a good season’s work. Capt. Hayes brings 80,000 pounds of fletches.”
I am guessing the 200 fathoms of cable belonged to the halibut nets. So they lost what was likely expensive gear while the amount of fillet realized was not enough to make this a successful voyage. On the other hand, they were all alive.
“How to fletch a halibut” — online at Alaska.org.