KANE AND HAYES. 



869 



his onward journey he was obliged to toil over the rocks and along the beach of a 

 sea which, like the familiar waters of the south, dashed in waves at his feet. 

 Morton and his companion Hans, the Esquimaux, reached on June 26, 1854, 

 Cape Constitution, a bold headland, where the surf rolled furiously against high 

 overhanging cliffs, which it was found impossible to pass. Chmbing from rock 

 to rock, in hopes of doubling the promontory, Morton stood at this termination 

 of his journey, and from a height of 300 feet looked out upon a great waste of 

 waters, stretching to the unknown north. ISTumerous birds — sea-swallows, kit- 

 tiwakes, brent-geese — mixed their discordant notes with the novel music of dash- 

 ing waves ; and among the flowering plants growing on the rocks was found 

 a crucifer {Hesperis pygmcBo), the dried pods of which, still containing seed, 

 had survived the wear and tear of winter. From Cape Constitution the coast 

 of Washington Land trended to the east, but far to the north-west, beyond the 

 open waters of the channel, a peak, terminating a range of mountains similar in 

 their features to those of Spitzbergen, was seen towering to a height of from 

 2500 to 3000 feet. This peak, the most remote northern land at that time 

 known upon our globe, received the name of Mount Parry. 



Meanwhile the short summer was wearing on, and, as far as the eye could 

 reach, the ice remained inflexibly solid. It was evident that many days must 

 still elapse before the vessel could possibly be liberated — but then most likely 

 winter would almost have returned — a dismal prospect for men who knew by 

 experience the long fearful night of the 79° of latitude, and who, broken in 

 health and with very insufiicient supplies of provisions and fuel, were but iU 

 armed for a second encounter. No wonder that many of Kane's companions 

 thought it better to abandon the vessel than to tarry any longer in those frozen 

 solitudes. 



But though it was horrible to look another winter in the face, the resolution 

 of Kane could not be shaken. On August 24, when the last hope of seeing the 

 vessel once more afloat had vanished, he called the oflicers and crew together, 

 and explained to them frankly the considerations which determined him to 

 remain. To abandon the vessel earlier would have been unseemly, and to reach 

 Upernavik so late in the season was next to impossible. To such of them, 

 however, as were desirous of making the attempt, he freely gave his permission 

 so to do, assuring them of a brother's welcome should they be driven back. He 

 then directed the roll to be called, and each man to answer for himself. In 

 result, eight out of the seventeen survivors of the party resolved to stand by the 

 brig. The others left on the 28th, with every appliance which the narrow 

 circumstances of the brig could furnish to speed and guard them. When they 

 disappeared among the hummocks, the stern realities of their condition pressed 

 themselves with double force on those whom they left behind. 



The reduced numbers of the party, the helplessness of many, the waning 

 efficiency of all, the impending winter, with its cold, dark nights, the penury 

 of their resources, the dreary sense of increased isolation — all combined to 

 depress them. But their energetic leader, leaving them no time for these 

 gloomy thoughts, set them actively to work to make the best possible prepa- 

 rations they could for the long cold night to come. 



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