THE RESCUE OF GREELY.* WE venture to assert that few,

if any, books of travel and adventure published within the last year will more thoroughly repay the trouble of careful perusal than the volume before Here is no dry record of weeks or months spent in miserable monotony, in the heroic endurance of darkness and cold, and possibly semi-starvation, on the terrible icefields. These pages are alive with busy stir and adventure, crowned with success, and fall of human interest. The writers tell their story as one might spin a yarn over a winter's fire, but with a marvellous self-effacement. Only those who can read between the lines will even guess how much of the ultimate success of the Relief Expedition must have been due to the ability of one of the narrators, who rarely alludes to himself at all. Thoroughly to enjoy this book, and be really the wiser for its contents, the reader should never for a moment shut up the big map at the end— (which, by the way, ought really to be on thicker paper)—and he would do well to place on one side any previous information he may have on the subject of which it treats, and bringing to it full freshness of attention, he will be amply rewarded.

A great deal of the vagueness—we might almost say ignorance —which still characterises the minds of the uninitiated as to the real difficulties encountered by Arctic explorers long before they reach Smith Sound, might be removed by the study of the first ten pages of the book before us. And the lay reader who masters them will be in a position to follow with far greater interest and sympathy the remainder of the narrative. All the world does not, perhaps, know of the project of Lieutenant Weyprecht for estab- lishing "a series of co-operating stations in the higher latitudes to make simultaneous observations for a considerable time." It was necessary for the carrying out of such a project that it should be international, and a Conference met at Hamburg on October 1st, 1879, with delegates from Austria-Hungary, Denmark, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway, and Russia; but with the carrying out of that scheme we should at this moment have nothing to do, bat that simultaneously with it another plan, having many features in common with it, had been urged on the attention of all interested in Arctic exploration by Lieutenant Howgate, under the name of "A Scheme for Polar Colonisation." "The plan consisted in establishing a colony as far North as possible, where it should remain three years," carrying on meteorological observations, and seizing any favourable opportunities for reaching the Pole.

In May, 1880, Congress passed an Act authorising the President to establish a station at Lady Franklin Bay, which, if our readers will glance at the map, they will see lies suffi- ciently far north to necessitate risking all the most terrible perils of Arctic voyaging to reach. Now, to quote in substance from the narrative before us, we must remember Weyprecht's object was scientific observation,—Howgate's, colonisation, with a view to reaching the Pole when a favourable moment should present itself. For the latter purpose, it would seem, Lady Franklin Bay was admirably situated; but it lacked one very important feature contemplated in Weyprecht's plan,—namely, accessibility. Yet, when in September, 1880, Dr. Wild, the President of the International Polar Commission, announced that only two more stations were needed to complete the circle, and that one of these should be some point in the North-Ameri- can Archipelago, it was natural enough the two schemes should be blended ; and so it came about that in March, 1881, the American Government consented to the appropriation of 25,000 dollars for the work of scientific observation and exploration in which Greely was subsequently engaged.

On July 76, 1881, Greely sailed from St. John's, Newfound- land, on board the ill-fated Proteus,' for Lady Franklin Bay. On the north side of the Bay, at Discovery Harbour, the station was to be fixed. Through perils of waters the brave ship made its way, and did 700 miles, from Upernivik to the Bay, in seven days. For Greely the end was in sight ; but at the last moment, within eight miles of his destination, he was stopped by the solid ice-pack. "Through the massive wall not an opening was to be seen." It is with breathless interest the reader who • The Raltelte of firmly. By Commander W. S. Schley, U.S.N., and Profeeaor J. B. Soley, U.S.N. London: Sampson Low and Co.

has accompanied the gallant officer to this point, reads on till, all obstacles surmounted, or rather by change of wind cleared away, the journey on August 10th was ended. But their difficulties were only begun. The little party of twenty-five men were to stay two years at Lady Franklin Bay, but a vessel was to be despatched to them both in 1882 and 1883; and before the ' Protons ' started on its homeward way, Greely sent the most clear instructions as to the action of the relief expeditions, concluding with the words :—" No deviation from these instructions should be permitted. Latitude of action should not be given to a relief party who, on a known coast, are searching for men who know their plans and orders." So far, all went well. The 'Proteus ' was back in St. John's by the 12th of September.

For a complete narrative of all that followed, from the moment when, in accordance with the agreement made with Greely, the first Relief Expedition was despatched, to the sinking of the Proteus ' near Cape Sabine in July, 1883, we must refer our readers to Commander Schley's graphic account. We can only briefly indicate that the 'Neptune,' the first vessel despatched, after weeks of vain battle with the ice, and after doing good service by depositing stores at the places indicated in Greely's instruc- tions as far up as Cape Sabine, returned to St. John's ; while, by a most mysterious amount of mismanagement, for which it is difficult to say who was responsible, the whole expenditure upon the Relief Expedition of 1883 seems to have been thrown a way.

The crew of the Protons ' were all saved, but appear to have behaved, with one or two exceptions, shamefully. Fortunately for all, there was one man equal to the occasion who never lost his head,—and, we imagine, there are few men in whom the spirit of adventure is not wholly dead, who would not follow with interest the narrative of Lieutenant Colwell's conduct, from the moment of his depositing his "wreck camp cache," four miles west of Cape Sabine, till when, with his whale-boat and his hand- ful of men he set out alone to brave the perils of Melville Bay, and so be the means of ultimately saving the whole party. In September, 1883, it was Lieutenant Garlington's painful duty to report the failure of the expedition. All the incidents in that failure sank into insignificance beside the inquiry,—What could now be done for G-reely ? It was too late in the season to accom- plish anything. Lieutenant Garlington applied to, pointed out the almost utter hopelessness of any attempt before the spring; yet with the barest chance of success he was willing, and anxious personally, to make the attempt, and with a singular absence of personal or professional jealousy which does him much credit, suggested that Lieutenant Colwell should command the ship. "The chief signal-officer sent six telegrams from Washington suggesting a new expedition, and earnestly advocating imme- diate action, and our old friend, Chief-Engineer Melville, proposed to accomplish part of the journey in the 'Yantic,' and the rest by sledge." Happily, prudence prevailed; the result otherwise could only have been disastrous.

Meanwhile, the suspense was terrible ; it was clear what Greely intended to do; failing any preventing causes, he would leave Fort Conger, where he was established, in 1883, and get as soon as possible to Littleton Island, hoping, of course, to meet a relief party on his way down. The Lady Franklin Bay Expedi- tion was, we learn, an army organisation, and consequently "it

belonged to the War Department to take the initial steps look- ing to its relief." The necessary amount of discussion was got through as quickly as possible. The Navy, asked to co-operate, promptly responded, and numerous plans of operation were at once examined. It was finally settled that the Relief Expedition should consist of two vessels, each supplied for a cruise of

two years. It was also decided, after mach consideration, that the expedition should be exclusively naval. And we think any impartial judge would agree on this point with Com- mander Schley, when he says :—

" There can be no doubt of the correctness of the theory upon which this decision was based. The work of the Relief Expedition of 1884—and for that matter, of all the relief expeditions—was as purely nautical as any work that was ever entrusted to a seaman. More than this, the whole issue of the work, the ultimate question of success or failure, depended primarily upon seamanship. Nor was there any possible contingency which would require in the personnel of the expedition qualities or experience other than those which sea- men will be found to possess at least equally with soldiers."

In the midst of a tedious amount of official red-tapeism suffi- ciently irritating to cause one Senator to express the hope that if Greely and his followers were left to perish, they might die in a

"Parliamentary manner," preparations still went on, and were enlivened by a bit of international courtesy pleasant to record. This was no other than the gift of the'Alert' from her Majesty's Government to the Government of the United States, to aid in the relief of Lieutenant Greely—a gift received with all the grace with which it was given. It was finally agreed to send the 'Thetis,' the 'Bear,' and the Alert.' No expense was spared ; officers and crews were picked men, and the whole Expedition was placed under the command of Commander Winfield S. Schley, U.S.N., from whose narrative we quote, and to whom—though, as we said before, he scarcely ever even alludes to himself—we know the rescued party owed so much.

After the starting of the Expedition we have a narrative of thrilling interest, of generous rivalry, hairbreadth escapes, and perfect discipline. Up to their arrival in Littleton Island no tidings of Greely had been found, and here the anxiety became desperate. At Littleton Island there was still no trace of him, and it was decided to run over to Cape Sabine. The rest of that memorable adventure the world knows, but hardly in such words as those in which Commander Schley has told his tale :—

"As the cutter left the ship, Colwell picked up a can of hard-tack and two 1-1b. tins of pemmican, as he thought his party might be out all night, and a little something to eat would not go amiss; but within half an hour after the first parties had left the ship, cheers were heard above the roaring of the wind."

What boots it all now P But yet through many a stormy day they had done their duty, and when well-nigh hopeless, success had come at last,—too late, alas ! to save some brave lives, but in time for Greely and the rest. It was a terrible sight ; they had not come a moment too soon. Among the noble band of rescuers was one who had risked more than any, and now down on his hands and knees, try ing to roll away the stones that held down the flapping tent-cloth, he was crying like a child, and scarcely a brave heart there but shared his emotion. Greely, more dead than alive, was there under the tent, nearly dead, but alive

enough to answer, in faint, broken voice :—" Yes— seven of us left—here we are—dying—like men. Did what I came to do—

beat the best record."

For the homeward journey and the ovation which awaited them at Portsmouth, New Hampshire—for all the details, in fact, from this point—we must refer our readers to the story itself. We can only hope we may have many another narrative from the same pen.