Chapter 10 Chapter 10 Goodser

Sixty-nine degrees thirty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds north latitude, ninety-eight degrees and forty-one minutes west longitude King William Land, May 24-June 3, 1847 One reason Dr. Harry Goodser insisted on joining the scouting party was to prove that he was as strong and capable as most of the crew, but he soon discovered that was not the case. Even with the objections of Lieutenant Gore and Mr. DeVos, he insisted on the first day that he took turns pulling the sled with the crew, so that one of the five sled pullers could follow along for a short rest. Goodser couldn't get what he wanted at all.The leather and cotton harnesses made by sailmakers and supply officers were too large for Goodser's narrow shoulders and hollow chest.The harness was neatly fastened to the drawstring with a knot which a sailor could untie or untie in a second, which Goodser could never learn in a lifetime.Even with the tightest belt in front of the harness, the harness would slip off him.Then he would slip on the ice and fall again and again, forcing the others to stop pulling the cart, pause for a moment to catch their breath, and pull the sled again.Dr. Goodser had never worn the ship's ice boots before, and the studs that went through the soles kept him tripping.

It was difficult to see while wearing heavy mesh goggles, but if the goggles were pushed over his forehead, the sun's rays on the Arctic ice would nearly blind him within minutes.He wore many layers of woolen clothing, several of which were soaked with sweat, and he was still shaking even as his body overheated from intense exercise.The harness put pressure on his nerves and kept the blood from flowing to his thin arms and cold hands.From time to time his mittens fell to the ground.He was humiliated by the shortness of breath, which had grown louder and continued. After an hour of this absurdity, Bobby Ferrell, Tommy Hartney, John Morfin and Marine Private Bill Pikindon—four other sledgers, Charles Bass Tate walked alongside now—both stopped to shake the snow off their hooded jackets, and looked at each other.Goodser had been having trouble keeping up with the sledge, but no one said a word.During one break he accepted Best's offer to pull the sled for him, and got out of the harness to let the real crew pull the heavy, high-loaded sled whose wooden runners threatened to freeze at any moment. on ice.

Goodser was exhausted.Tired as hell from an hour of pulling the sled on his first morning on the ice, he would be more than happy to spread his sleeping bag on the wolf-skin blanket and sleep until the next day. All this happened before hitting the first real ice ridge. As far as the eye can see, the ice ridge on the southeast side of the ship is the lowest in the first two miles. It seems that because the Terror is there, the ice on the leeward side is much flatter, forcing the ice ridge to go farther. .But in the evening of the first day, the real ice ridge rose and blocked their way.These ridges were higher than what separated the two ships from wintering on the ice, as if the closer they got to King William Land, the greater the pressure beneath the ice.

When they encountered the first three ridges, Lieutenant Goer led them southwest, looking for a lower point or dip on the ridge that they could climb across without much effort.Although it will take them a lot of walking and time, it is better than unloading all the cargo on the sled.However, they couldn't get around the fourth ice ridge. Whenever the pause lasts more than a few minutes, one of them—usually the young Hartney—must take a can of pyroligne fuel from the well-lashed cargo on the sled, light an alcohol stove, and use a pot The snow was melted into hot water, not for drinking—if they wanted to quench their thirst, there was water in the jugs they carried with them tucked inside their jackets to keep them from freezing—but for pouring warm water on the runners of the sleds.The fast-moving skateboards will cut ruts on the surface of ice and snow like coarse woven cloth. If the sled stops, the ruts will automatically freeze.

The way the sled moved was nothing like the toboggans and light sleds Goodser had seen in his affluent childhood.About two years ago, when he first ventured out on a pile of ice, he realized that even with real leather boots, there was no way he could run or run as fast or as fast as he could on the frozen river or lake at home. skate.Something about sea ice—certainly its high salinity—increases friction, reducing ease of gliding to almost nothing.Perhaps a bit of a turnoff for anyone hoping to sprint across the ice like a little boy skating, but for the teams that have to pull, push, and manually haul sleds across ice fields that are loaded with hundreds of pounds of stuff, and that themselves weigh hundreds of pounds , it takes a lot of effort to deal with it.

That's the equivalent of hauling thousands of pounds of heavy lumber and cargo over rough rocky terrain, and climbing an ice ridge could be as difficult as climbing over a pile of boulders and gravel four stories high. As far as the eye could see, the first challenge was but one of the countless ridges of ice that crossed the road to the southeast, perhaps sixty feet high. Untie the rope, and take down the fixed upper food, the fuel tank box, the wolf skin blanket, the sleeping bag, and the heavy tent.The lighter load on the sled leaves fifty to one hundred pounds more bundled goods and boxes on the ground.They had to pull these things up the steep, toppling, jagged ridges of ice before they could talk about moving the sleds.

Goodser soon discovered that climbing the ridges would not be a frustrating chore if they were just individual protrusions—that is, a ridge rising directly from flatter sea ice.No frozen sea is smooth, but strangely enough, the sea ice within fifty to one hundred yards of each ridge becomes a mass of craggy snowdrifts, toppled seracs, and gigantic ice rocks. maze.You have to untangle and walk through this maze before you can actually climb the ridge. Climbing ice ridges is never a straight line; Look for the handrail on a large ice block that may fall off at any time.Eight people climbed in zig-zag paths, often going straight diagonally while passing weights up to one another.They hacked the ice with their pickaxes to make steps and trellises, trying to keep themselves from falling or being hit by falling people.Luggage that slipped from its icy mittens and fell to the ground drew curses from five crew members below.Before Guoer or DeVos told them to shut up, their cursing breath had already turned into a few clouds of ice crystals.Everything had to be unpacked and repacked at least ten times.

Finally it came to the heavy sled, about half of which was still strapped to it.They had to pull, push, heave, brace, move the sled out of the serac, angle it, lift it again, and drag it to the top of the steep ice ridge.Even at the top of the ice ridge, these people cannot rest. Once they relax for a minute, the eight layers of sweat-soaked outerwear and inner clothing will start to freeze. After lashing the new cables to the vertical posts and cross braces at the rear of the sled, several men went forward to hold the sled down as it descended.Usually the burly Marines Pikington and Morfin and Farrell are in charge, while the others buckle up their harnesses and let the sleds pant around, shouts, warnings and more swearing In the syncopated chorus of , move down.

Then they would carefully reload the sleds, check that the ropes were securely tied, boil the snow and pour it on the skates frozen in the ruts, and set off again, in the tangle of ice on the other side of the ridge push forward. Thirty minutes later, they would hit another ice ridge. For Harry Goodser, that first night on the ice was a terrible memory. The ship's doctor had never been camping in his life, but he knew what Graham Cole said was true.Guo Er said with a smile that doing everything on the ice was five times slower than usual: unpacking luggage, lighting alcohol lamps and alcohol stoves, erecting brown Dutch tents, fixing screws on the ice as anchors, spreading out many Bundle blankets and sleeping bags, especially the pork and soup cans brought by heating to eat.

Also, they have to keep moving, waving, shaking and stamping their feet, or their limbs will freeze. Mr. DeVos reminded Goodser that in a normal Arctic summer (the icebreak south from Beech Island was the case last summer) the temperature could reach as high as thirty degrees Fahrenheit on a windless June sunny day at this latitude.But this year is an exception.Lieutenant Goer took the temperature at ten o'clock in the evening when they stopped working for bed, the sun was still on the southern horizon, the sky was still bright, and the thermometer read minus two degrees Fahrenheit.It was six degrees positive when they stopped for tea and biscuits at noon.

Dutch tents are small.The tent would have saved their lives during a blizzard, but the first night on the ice was sunny and windless, so DeVos and the five crew members decided to sleep outside in wolfskin blankets and tarpaulins on, covered only with a Hudson's Bay blanket sleeping bag.If the weather suddenly turned bad, they retreated to their crowded tents.After arguing with himself for a while, Goodser decided to sleep outside with the crew instead of sleeping alone in the tent with Lieutenant Gore, even though Gore was capable and amiable. The daylight was almost maddening, and it didn't get dark until near midnight, but the sky was still as bright as a London summer at about eight o'clock in the evening, and it was strange that Goodser could sleep.He had never been so tired in his life, but he couldn't sleep.He found that the aches and pains after a tiring day made it harder to sleep.He wished he had brought painkillers.Just a small dose will ease the discomfort and put him to sleep.Unlike the ship's doctors who have a medical certificate to prescribe medicine, Goodser is not addicted to drugs, and only uses opium to make himself fall asleep easily or to concentrate when he needs to concentrate.Once or twice a week at most. The weather is cold.After eating the heated canned soup and canned beef, he found a more secluded place in the chaotic ice and liberated it. This was also the first time in his life, and he knew to move fast, otherwise some important parts of his body would be released. Will frostbite.Goodser then went to the six-foot-by-five-foot wolf-skin sleeping blanket, spread out the sleeping bag, and got inside. He didn't go deep enough to feel warm, though.DeVos told him he had to take off the boots and stuff them in the sleeping bag so the leather wouldn't freeze hard -- Goodser's sole had been punctured by a spike in the sole of a boot -- and the clothes All to wear to sleep.The woolen coat (all woolen coats, Goodser has had a lot of experience today) was soaked with all day's sweat and breath.It's been an endless day. About midnight the light dimmed for a moment, allowing him to see some stars.During a special observation on the iceberg two years ago, an officer had privately explained to him that some of them were actually planets.However, the daylight never disappeared. The cold didn't go away either.After no longer moving or moving, Gu Deser's thin body is even more powerless against the cold, and can only let the cold run into the sleeping bag through the opening that is too wide, and let the cold pass through the ice floor and put it underneath The wolf-skin blanket that has lost its hair sneaks up.The cold is also like a predator with cold fingers, crawling through thick blankets made by the Hudson's Bay Company.Goodser began to tremble, his teeth chattering. Four men were sleeping around him, and two others were guards, snoring so loudly that the ship's doctor wondered, a few miles to the northwest of them, beyond the countless ice ridges -- dear God, when we returned One more time to climb those ice ridges—would the crew of the two ice-bound ships hear those rough, nasal snores, too. Goodser was shaking.At this rate, he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it through morning.They would wake him from his blanket and sleeping bag, only to find a frozen, curled corpse. He got as deep as possible into the sleeping bag made of blankets, sealed the opening above his head where a line of ice had formed, and inhaled his own acid sweat and exhaled breath in the sleeping bag, so as not to expose himself to the freezing air middle. Besides the cunning light, and the lurking, more cunning cold, the deadly cold, the cold of the black crags above a few tombstones on Beech Island, the cold of the grave, Goodser knew that there were sound.The ship's doctor thought he was used to the whine of the ship's beams, the occasional creaking and snapping of the supercooled metal, and the ice that seemed to be clamping the two ships tightly in a vise during the past two dark winters. Strange sound.But here, with nothing between him and the ice but layers of wool and wolf skins, the groans and movements of the ice beneath his body became all the more terrifying, as if he was sleeping under a living beast. on the stomach.Even with his oversensitivity, the feeling of the ice moving underneath was unreal, making him feel dizzy as he curled himself up tightly like a fetus. At about two o'clock in the morning, he was reading his pocket watch by the light coming through the mouth of his sleeping bag, Harry Goodser began to fall into a half-sleep-like state, and then he was awakened by two deafening explosions. The sleeping bag was stiff with the cold from his sweat, and he fought it like a newborn trying to tear through the membranes, until finally Goodser let his head and shoulders emerge from the sleeping bag.The cold night air hit his face, cold enough to stop his heart.Now the sky is brighter with sunlight. "What's wrong?" he yelled. "What happened?" Second Officer DeVos and three crew members stood on their sleeping bags, sleeping long knives in gloved hands.Lieutenant Guoer rushed out of the tent, fully dressed, with a pistol in his empty hand, no gloves! "Report to me!" he yelled at Charlie Best (one of the two guards). "It's a bear, Lieutenant," said Best. "There's a couple of big ones that've been spying out here all night. You remember seeing them about half a mile from here before we stopped to camp. But They were getting closer and closer to us, they kept going in circles, and eventually John and I just had to shoot and chase them away." Goodser knew that John was referring to twenty-seven-year-old John Morfin, the other guard tonight. "Did you both shoot?" Guo Er asked.The lieutenant climbed to the highest point of the nearby snowbank and scanned the area with his brass telescope.Gu Deser was very puzzled, why Guoer's hands were not frozen on the metal yet. "Yes, sir," said Morfin.He was reloading the shotgun from the breech, and handling the ammunition in woolen gloves was clearly inconvenient. "Did you shoot them?" DeVos asked. "Yes." Best said. "It's no use, though," said Morfin. "It's just a shotgun, and it's more than thirty paces away. The bear's fur is thick, and the skull is even thicker. But at least we got them wounded and escaped." "I didn't see them," said Lieutenant Goer, standing on the ice mound ten feet above them. "We figured they came out of those small openings in the ice," Best said. "The bigger one was running towards that when John shot it. We thought it was dying. But when we chased it far enough, there was no body there. It was gone." The sled team had previously noticed some softer areas of the ice, irregularly shaped holes about four feet in diameter.Ringed seals don't have such large blowholes, but they are too small and too far apart for polar bears.The holes are always covered with a layer of soft ice several inches thick.At first they saw the holes and raised hopes of finding unfrozen water, but they later found that there were too few of them and too far from each other to be nothing more than easy-to-sink ice formations.Sailor Ferrell, who was walking ahead of the sledge, nearly fell into a hole late in the afternoon the previous day.He stepped in with his left foot, missing his knee.The party therefore stopped, and the trembling sailor was put on a woolen coat, boots, socks, and trousers. "Well, it's about time for Furrell and Pikindon to be guards anyway," said Lieutenant Gore. "Bobby, go to my tent and get the muskets." "I'm better off with a shotgun, sir," said Ferrell. "I can use a musket, Lieutenant," said the burly private. "Then get the musket, Pikindon. Shooting them with little shotgun pellets will only piss them off." "Yes, sir." Obviously Best and Morfin were not shivering because of the cold, but because of the guards who stood outside for two hours.Sleepily they pulled off their boots and crawled into the sleeping bags that awaited them.Second soldiers Pikington and Bobby Ferrell stuffed their swollen feet into the leather boots they had just taken out of their sleeping bags, walked listlessly towards the nearby ice ridge, and began to stand as guards. Goodser trembled more, and now his nose and cheeks were as numb as his fingers and toes.He ducked deeper into his sleeping bag, praying to God to let him sleep. But he was not asleep.More than two hours later, Second Officer DeVos began waking everyone up to get out of their sleeping bags. "We've got a whole day's work to do, boys," cried the second mate with vigor. They were more than twenty-two miles from the shore of King William Land.