HOW THE KARLUK WENT DOWN

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3053, 14 April 1917, Page 3

HOW THE KARLUK WENT DOWN

CAPTAIN BARTLETT'S STORY STEFANSSON'S TRAGIC EXPEDITION 1 It is a notable record of Arctic work that Captain Bartlott has given us in his book (writes the reviewer in the New York "Evening PoBt"). The Karluk's voyage added little of value to the sum of the world's knowledge, but it was worth while if its only result was to make this most acceptable addition to our records of Arctic exploration. Picture the Karluk fast in tho ice: she has been drifting for months, and in anticipation of disaster much of her stores has been landed on the ice-floe, where huts have been built and every preparation made for caring for the members of the expedition in comfort. In .January, 1914, the expected occurs. On the IOUi, Captaiji'ifartlett, while below, hears "a splitting, brasning sound," and, hastening to the engine-room, finds that the shifting ice has pieroed the planking and timbers at that point, ripping off, all the'pump fixtures and putting the pump out of commission. It is obvious that the ship will be loßt, and the order is given to abandon her. After the stores that are to be saved have been taken off to the floe, Captain Bartlett watches with' sadness the gradual sinking of his vessel. 'When the decks are nearly awash, and the ship is being held up only by the ice, he goes to the galley, where there is a lire, and moves the gramophone there, "to whilo away the time":

Funeral March on the Cramophone. "As I played tho records 1 threw them in the stove. At last I found Chopin's Funeral March, played it over and laid it aside. I ate when I was hungry, and had plenty of coffee and tea. My companions had gone over to the floe iind turned in early-in the morning. It was' quite comfortable in the eailev, for I could keep the fire going with coal'from the galley locker. At times I wwild take a look into the engine-room, being careful not to' get too far from an exit;' the water was nearly up to the deck. "At 3.15 p.m. tho ice openedandthe ship began to set lower in the water. Then the ice closed up again, for a while and supported her by tho bowsprit and both quarters. About halfpast three sho began .to settle in earnest, and as the minutes went by, the decks were nearly awash. Putting Chopin's Funeral March on I started tho machine, and when the water came running along the deck and poured down tli©- hatches, I stood lip on the rail, and as she took a. header with the rail level with tho ice, I stepped off. It_ was at 4 p.m., January 11, 1914, with the blue Canadian Government ensign at her niain-topmast-head, blowing out straight and cutting the water, as it disappeared, and the Victrola in the calley sending out the strains of Chopin's Funeral March, that tho'Karluk .sank, going down by the head in thirty-eight fathoms of water. As she took the final plunge, I bared my head and said, 'Adios, Karluk.'"

The Karluk had sailed from her Alaskan poTt on July 13, 1913; Stefansson and a party left the expedition on a hunting aaid exploring trip, and tho drift of the Karluk began three days later. This drift, in varying directions, afforded opportunities for dredging as well as for various scientific observations, but it soon became clear to the party on tho vessel that, with her lack of protection, Jhe Karluk must almost inevitably 'ho crushed,-in the ice. This occurred. Nevertheless,' . all was in readinoss for. the advance'toward Rodgors Harbour, where it was-expected that news of StefanEson would be obtained. After establishing several camps, Captain Bartlett decided that it was advisable to endeavour to 'get to the outside world news of the fate of the Karluk, and with one companion, an Eskimo, he started on March 18 for the Siberian coast. Their journey was, an arduous one, but finally the two men reached Cape North, and on May 29 prived a.t St. Michael's and telegraphed'their news to Ottawa.

Character Climpscs. All through the record of the expedition we have sidelights on Captain Bartlett's character. We have seen him waiting for the ond of his ship; in other pages are the records of the personality of this veteran, who confesses that ho is nearly forty years of age. We see him making a football for the sports.of a New Year's Day; it is constructed of seal gut, cut into. sections and sewed up, with surgeon's plaster over the seams, and is blown up with a pipe stem. Captain Bartlett is the referee, and having no .whistle substitutes a mouth-organ; but ho is compelled to • discard this and depends, on voice alone, for the metal freezes to his lips and takes the skin off. Again, when one of the crew pretends to have found some tobacco, at a time when' the camp is without that desirablo article, he chases him and "scours his face in a, snowbank." On another occasion, the. commander joins_ his men in dancing, and becomes so-vigorous that he knocks over the stove in their hut! We see him, too, preparing a Christmas', menu, and taking" the lead in festivities that must have had a tinge of sadness, so far from home and families' and friends. But the greatest surprise in these revelations of character comes when he tells us that his constant companion is a battered and dog-earned copy of Omar Kliaxjam—a copy that was given to him in 1901 when he was with. Harry Whitney on a hunting trip to Hudson's Bay, 'and which has since gone with him on .voyages to South America and to the Arctic,' as well as on the trip to Europe that the Captain made with ■Peary after the latter had reached the North Pole. "I never seem'to tire of it," he says; "perhaps,it is because there is something in its philosophy which appeals to my own feeling about life and death."

_ Just before he started for the Siberian coast, Captain Bartlett found that he had unwittinglyj given, away his last comb—he had to use a fork as substitute. "It is surprising," he tells us, "what an excellent comb afork makes —I recommend it for Arctic use." On another occasion he quietly observes that "it is not safe to use sleeping-bags on the sea ice, for when the ice cracks underneath you, the bags hobble your arms, aud you drown." Once, when the ice cracked undor tho Eskimo's igloo, nearly causing the drowning of one of the children, he gavo his own hut to the family and "walked back and forth, waiting for daylight." '