News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1885-07-30
HARDSHTPS IN THE ARCTIC
TALK WITH A SURVIVORS OF TRE
oRExxY EXPEDITION.
How the Terrible Days were spent
Sergeant ConnelI's Tragic story Oh
Starvation and Misery.

Starvation and Misery
In the signal service Office in San Fran
cisco is q well-built young man with
q pleasant blue eye, dark curling hair
and mustachs and bright, expressive
face. Although apparently in perfect
health his hands are slender and colorless,
and have peculiar nervous habit OF un-
rest, while his manner--at one moment
free and hearty-is at times under sim
gular constraint, as if chilled and OPP
pressed by troop of fearful memories.
He Is Sergeant Council, one of the most
heroic members of Greely's brave little
Arctic band.
A reporter who encountered Sergeant
Connell at the signal service Office found
him genial and communicative, although
at times pausing in his conversation as II
suddenly brought up against wall,
when referring to the horrors of their
experience or the sufferings of his dead
| comrades.
"Who was the most cheerful OF the
party2" inquired the writer.
''They were all of them brave men
and kept up their spirits to the last.
Nothing daunted them, and they died
nobly and blamed nobody for their
death. But think if any distinction
should be made Rice should have the
palm. He was a CHEEKY, courageous
man of most noble character. You
know We spent two years at our station,
near Lady Franklin bay. In the spring,
from the return of the sun, the 1st Of
March, to the end of June, we were al
ways in the field. But during the re-
mainder or the time we had little to do,
and during the winter the sun was alb
sent 130 days. We had to do something
to make the time pass pleasant, and we
4 had jolly time, / do assure you. We
had snowshoe races out on the ice, and
there was some tall betting done. The
only money we had in circulation was
tobacco, but we had plenty of that, and
80 one man would back his favorite With
pound of tobacco, and another would
go him two pounds better. We had
shootidg matches, putting lantern 200
yards off in the darkness. The men
were all good shots, and some of them
had made handsome records. Long, one
of the survivors, was about the best shot.
We had paper issued in camp, the
Arctic Noon, in which the men got of
some capital jokes; and we used to play
jokes on each other-and some pretty
tough ones-anyth to raise laugh. ]
recollect when the men came back
from their trip north. some of them
Ellison among the rest-were snow-blind
and some of the boys got out decoy
duck and placed it on a pond near the
camp, where it looked for all the world
like an Oneida duck. Then they told
Ellison to come and look. He took one
peep, then jumped for his gun, crept
down cautiously and sighted it.
"Bangl Blind as he was, he hit il
square, and knocked it over. But ]
shall never forget Ellison's words when
he found out how he had been fooled.
"'Well, wellp he said, anybody that
would play such trick on poor blind
mani 1t made us feel small.
''The men were fond of music, and
some of them had good voices, Ellison,
particularly, had a rich, mellow voice
that it was delight to hear. But we
never asked any questions about the
quality or range of cultivation of a mans
voice. So long as he could follow tune
he pitched in with the rest. The only
musical instrument we had was one of
these little organettes that turn with a
crank and grind out music to order.
Somebody brought it down to the ship
just as we set sail. 1t seemed foolish little
gift at tho time, but it proved bonanza
up there. 1t played the Sweet By and
By John Browns Body and any
quantity of hymns. Lieutenant Kisling
bury was great hand at singing church
tunes, and he sung the doxology the mo-
ment before he drew his last breath"
"Did you ever sing Home, Sweet
Homer" questioned the interviewer.
always. Over and over again, from
the first to the last. Even in those days
at Cape Sabine we sang it.
''When Brainard and Lockwood
started on their famous expedition North
l was with them, but we hadn't gone far
when froze one foot and had to turn
back. The Esquimaux came back with
me nearly to the snow huts at Cape
| Beechey and left me there. / hadn't
gone far before L noticed the tracks of
wolves, and pretty soon came upon three
of them standing on the icefoot (the ice
that adheres to the land.) | had heard
great deal about the ferocity of these
Arctic wolves and thought my day had
come, for l was hobbling along on my
heel, emily making mile in three or four
hours. / had no arms, no knife; but
had pair of dogskin mittens and seal
skin jumper, and bright idea seized me
that if dropped these, one at time,
they might stop to eat them before they
began on me; and, meantime, l might
possibly get to the hut. So got the
mittens off, ready to drop; but before
let go crazy impulse seized me to try
kind of an Indian yell and ..how
they'd like that. And would you believe
1t, the moment those wolves heard my
warwhoop they put their tails betw n
their legs and scrambled off over the Ice
as fast as they could travel. A few days
later l had occasion to hunt them with a
gun, but couldn't get within thousand
yards of them"
Connell makes one big ingenious ac-
acknowledgement of human instability of
purpose.
"We used to plan about what we
would have to eat if ever we were back
in civilization. / had been, like most
men, never thinking or caring much
about what l ate, but l made up my
mind that if ever / got back where there
was decent food and enough, would
think of every mouthful took and enjoy
it. And l resolved firmly that / would
read severe lecture to any one ever
saw waste particle of food, and try to
make them understand its value. And
here / am, stutfing down food without
and letting others waste it around me.
That was always what tormented us the
most-to think of the waste going on in
the world while we we're starving. We
used to fairly gloat over the thought of
getting at somebody's swill-barrel and
gorging ourselves with its contents.
''Hungry2 My Godr' exclaimed Con.
nell, dwelling upon the theme. "No
one who has not experienced it can un-
derstand what suffering is. The pangs
of hunger were simply indescribable-
And the worst of it was we were so hun
CRY we couldn't sleep. 1 used to lie
awake thinking of food until l was
crazy, and then would go to sleep and
dream of it-all sorts of wild and absurd
Dreams"
Connell is manly young fellow, with
a stout look of courage on his face; but
as he finished this bit of reminisceuce
his voice choked little and he looked
off into vacancy, as if recalling some
phantom memory.
The Valuable Cork Oak.
In Sardinia, Sicily, and the region