Orders, Decorations and Medals

‘With the ensign at half-mast, and the Union Jack as a pall, the funeral procession, attended by all but four very bad cases, started at nine o’clock, and the burial service being read, the remains were consigned to their last icy resting place in this world. Improvising a crude cross, formed with a boat’s oar and a spare sledge-batten, it was placed at the head of the grave, with the following inscription: “Beneath this cross lie buried the remains of Geo. Porter, R.M.A., who died on June 8th 1876. Thy will be done.” Of all the melancholy and mournful duties I have ever had to perform, this has been the saddest. A death in a small party like ours, and under the present circumstances, is a most distressing event, and is keenly felt by all. During the service all were more or less affected, and many to tears.’

Commander A. H. Markham’s Northern Sledge Party Journal refers.

A rare and emotive Arctic 1875-76 Medal awarded to Gunner G. Porter, Royal Marine Artillery, a member of Markham’s Northern Sledge Party whose sacrifice was commemorated by the naming of “Porter Bay” on the northern coast of Ellesmere Island

Arctic Medal 1875-76 (G. Porter, Gnr., R.M.A., H.M.S. Alert), edge bruising, very fine £5000-6000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, Polar Awards from the Collection of Glenn M Stein, F.R.G.S..

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Collection

Ex J. B. Hayward (Gazette No. 7, June 1976, Item 198); of four casualties from the 1875-76 Expedition, the Arctic Medals of two of them reside in public institutions.

George Porter enlisted in the Royal Marine Artillery in Birmingham in September 1866, aged 18 years, giving his trade as varnisher. Having then collected one Good Conduct Badge, he committed a spate of misdemeanours in the period 1869-74, ranging from absence without leave to the loss of a ‘rammer overboard through carelessness at gun drill’, the cost of which latter implement was deducted from his wages.

Then in April 1875, he joined the Alert, under Captain George Nares, in which ship, in the following month, he sailed for the unknown “High Arctic”, where, in company with the Discovery, Nares was to explore North-West Greenland and the northern regions of Ellesmere Island. For his own part, Porter was one of just seven R.M.A. men employed on the expedition, and indeed one of only 13 such servicemen who qualified for either of the Arctic Medals issued in the 19th century.

And in common with his R.M.A. predecessors from the Franklin Search Expeditions, Porter was tasked with handling cannisters of gunpowder to blast frozen obstructions, and in creating ‘ice docks’ for the ships' winter quarters, the latter work again entailing the use of gunpowder, and of giant ice saws. Another duty he shared with his predecessors was that of officers’ servant, in Porter’s case to Lieutenant Pelham Aldrich, who, in his journal entry of 8 August 1875, observed:

‘My servant Porter is a character. He has just been telling me of a dinner he has had of the heart of a Walrus, which he captured this morning. I expressed a hope he would not be ill after it - "That is if it is good to eat" says he, alluding to a remark he had made about it being better than some sheep's liver we had the other morning! - and then he finished up with "I eat a tidy lot of it Sir" - "this 'Eart was ate too Sir" - I am to have some this morning though somewhat doubtful in the subject it is nevertheless a good thing to find out what we can actually devour with infinity in case of future requirements.’

By late August, the ships had reached Discovery Harbour, on the northern side of Lady Franklin Bay, Ellesmere Island, the site chosen for Discovery’s winter quarters. The Alert, meanwhile, continued up Robeson Channel to Floeberg Beach, to 82º 82'N - the highest latitude reached by any ship up to that time - and established her winter quarters on 1 September. Shortly afterwards, Autumn sledge parties established depots northward at Cape Joseph Henry for extended journeys the following spring, but at this stage, at least, Porter would appear to have been spared such challenging work - and the accompanying threat of snowblindness, frostbite, blistering of the skin and extreme thirst caused by inhaling cold, dry air and exhaling moisture. Instead, happily, he added a second Good Conduct Badge to his accolades on New Year’s Day 1876.

Markham’s Northern Sledging Party

In the Spring, three major sledging parties - two from Alert and one from Discovery - set out to explore toward the North Pole and along the north coasts of Ellesmere Island and Greenland, the journey ahead being likened by one Arctic officer to far worse than going into action - in fact he had never ‘seen such labour, and such misery after. No amount of money is an equivalent ... Men require much more heart and stamina to undertake an extended travelling party than to go into action. The travellers have their enemy chilling them to the very heart, and paralyzing their very limbs; the others the very contrary.’

And so it was, on 3 April, that Lieutenant Aldrich's Western Sledge Party and Commander Albert H. Markham's Northern Sledge Party left the ship, along with supporting sledges. Markham's party comprised H.M. Sledges Support, Marco Polo (with a boat) and Victoria (with another boat and Porter), the object of the journey being to attain the highest northern latitude possible, and to determine to possibility of a more fully equipped party reaching the North Pole. The departure was poignantly described by Markham:

‘At eleven o'clock, everything being in readiness for a start, all hands assembled on the floe, and prayers were read by [Reverend] Pullen. The hymn, "[Praise] God, From Whom All Blessings Flow," was then sung, after which the order was given to "fall in," and amidst the hearty cheers of those few who were left behind, the sledging parties moved off. The captain and officers accompanied us for a short distance, when, wishing us God-speed, they turned to go back. This was a signal for three cheers from the travellers, after which they settled down to their work, and the march was steadily commenced.’

Shortly after leaving the Alert, Markham noted a temperature of 33º below zero and described the travelling as ‘by no means good, snow deep, and the sledges dragging very heavily’, the former factor ‘rendering the task of writing up our journals when we halted extremely unpleasant and painful’: on the second day the temperature plummeted to 45º below zero.

And by 10 April, after marching nine to ten hours every day, Markham wrote, ‘We experienced heavy work in cutting a road [with pick axe and shovel] through the line of shore hummocks that gird the coast, and did not succeed in reaching the depot [at Cape Joseph Henry] until eleven o'clock.’ Here the Northern Sledge Party collected provisions for 63 days.

The next morning was thick and foggy, to which was added a heavy snow fall. The supporting sledges returned to the ship, and the two extended parties pressed onward: the Northern Sledge Party leaving terra firma and pushing straight out onto the rugged polar pack, while the Western Sledge Party continued exploration of Ellesmere's coast to the westward. Markham's sledges Marco Polo, Victoria and Support weighed a total of 6,079 lbs. - 15 men were dragging a staggering 405 lbs. per man - which offers some appreciation of the effort it took to get through the snow and over hummocks of ice as high as 20-30 feet. No surprises then that Markham observed, ‘The men appear a good deal done up.’

On 14 April, one of them complained of a ‘pain in his ankle and knee, both of which exhibited slight symptoms of puffiness’, and two days later he was unable to walk and was obliged to be put on a sledge, adding to the burden of his comrades. The temperature was 30º below zero and ‘all unanimously came to the conclusion that it was the most wretched and miserable Easter Sunday that any one of us has ever passed’: doubtless this was especially true for George Porter, who began complaining of stiff knees, which were treated by rubbing them with turpentine liniment.

Porter is rendered hors de combat

The next day, as noted by Markham, ‘George Porter (Gunner, R.M.A.), one of the Victoria’s crew, is rendered hors de combat, his knees being very much swelled, and is suffering a good deal of pain.’ Unable to walk any further, after lunch, Porter was carried on the sledge. The following morning, continued Markham, ‘The travelling has been rough and heavy. The Victoria capsized, but was quickly righted without damage to either sledge or boat, and without even giving the invalid, who was securely wrapped up inside the boat, a shaking.’

On 19 April, Markham decided to abandon the 20-foot ice boat, as the smaller boat would suffice, if needed, for ferrying men and equipment from one floe to another - ‘The men also appear much distressed at the conclusion of a day's work. Yesterday, after toiling for 10 marching hours, we only advanced 1 mile, and this with no road-making. Lightening our load by 800 lbs. will enable me to husband their strength a little ... It is painful to witness the efforts of the poor fellows, whilst they are dragging, endeavouring to shield their faces from the cold, all scarified and scabby, lips sore and tips of the fingers senseless from frostbite - yet they are all cheerful and happy enough.’

Ahead lay hummocks that ‘appeared interminable’, a labyrinth of piled-up masses of ice, some now over 40 feet in height. Ahead, too, a mounting tally of sick men, Markham lamenting that his ‘invalids exhibit no signs of improvement ... Men thoroughly fatigued. They would frequently drop off to sleep when halted only for a few minutes’ - and the Victoria, with her boat and Porter inside, capsized again, but fortunately he was not injured. But by the first day of May, Markham noted, ‘Porter's symptoms appear to be scorbutic, his teeth are loose and gums sore, and his legs covered with a rash and discoloured in patches about the knee ... The invalids are not improving, and we are inclinded to believe that they are all attacked with scurvy ... Porter complains of great weakness, giddiness, and sickness of the stomach ... Our strength is rapidly decreasing.’

Five of Markham’s 15 men were now effectively hors de combat, and the remainder too started to complain of stiffness and pain in their legs - in fact scurvy was slowly destroying the Northern Sledge Party: ‘The interiors of our tents of an evening have more the appearance of hospitals than the habitations of strong working-men. In addition to the "cripples", four men belonging to the Marco Polo are suffering from snow blindness.’ All the more amazing, therefore, that scientific work was carried out on 11 May - after burrowing 64 inches through the ice for three hours, a hundred fathom line was cast down into the water, to a depth of 72 fathoms, and a specimen of bottom sediment collected and carefully preserved in a bottle for conveyance to the Alert.

Finally, at noon on 12 May, ‘we obtained a good altitude, and proclaimed our latitude to be 83º 20' 26" N., exactly 399 and a half miles from the North Pole. On this being duly announced three cheers were given with one more for Captain Nares, then the whole party, in the exuberance of their spirits at having reached their turning point, sang the "Union Jack of Old England," the "Grand Paleocrystic Sledging Chorus" winding up like loyal subjects with "God Save the Queen” ... A magnum of whisky that had been sent by the Dean of Dundee for the express purpose of being consumed in the highest northern latitude, was produced, and a glass of grog served out to all.’

Markham and his men were now in a race for their lives - cracks appeared in the ice, floes began to shift and the travelling was very rough - and one day towards the end of the month the party was detained for 10 hours by bad weather: ‘To pack the sledges and place the invalids on them without their being almost buried in the blinding snowdrift was quite out of the question, and even if there was a chance of advancing it was impossible to see a sledge's length ahead. This delay causes us great anxiety, as every day, every hour, is of importance to us, as we know not when we may, one and all, be attacked and rendered useless for further work.’

The other boat was now abandoned, and along with it, the greater part of the ammunition, several spirit cans and 170 lbs. of pemmican, in an effort to move faster, but ‘we [still] had 1,800 lbs. on the large sledge, whilst the two others were loaded to about 800 lbs. each’, weights sufficient for much concern on patches of young ice, only three to four inches thick. Matters were getting desperate in the extreme, Markam noting on the 2 June, ‘Five men are carried on the sledges, and four can just manage to crawl after. Our routine is first to advance the heavy sledge, which is dragged by the whole available party, namely eight; then return and bring up the other two sledges, single banked, four dragging each.’ And of the invalids, Porter ‘could eat scarcely anything, and appears to be getting weaker, though up to the present time he has been able to help himself better than the others who have to be carried, and his pulse is still strong; to-day [5 June] he complains of not being able to lie on his left side, as it affects the action of the heart.’ Two days later Porter was ‘very low, and is undoubtedly in a very precarious state, having been attacked last night by several very violent fits of coughing and retching, which strained him severely.’

Worse still, at their current rate of progress, it would take another three weeks to reach the Alert - only 30 miles distant - so Markham was no doubt greatly relieved that Lieutenant Alfred Parr agreed to go on ahead to rally a relief party from Alert - ‘anxiously was his retreating form watched until it was gradually lost to sight amidst the interminable hummocks.’

“Thy Will Be Done”

Porter’s demise occurred on 8 June 1876, Markham noting in his journal:

‘Poor Porter is no more! After halting last night he was placed as usual in his tent, where I visited him before supper. He said, in answer to my inquiry, that he was easy and comfortable, and appeared to be more cheerful and talkative. Before I had quite finished my supper, I was called in haste to his tent, where I found him suffering from a spasmodic attack of some nature, and quite unconscious: this was about 8 o'clock (A.M.). He was revived by having his nostrils bathed with spirit of ammonia, and then a little rum, slightly diluted with water, was given him, when he regained consciousness. His breathing was short and stertorous; he complained very much of difficulty in breathing, and appeared to be sinking fast. Two hours after he had a similar attack and was again brought round by the same means; but he seemed to be much exhausted, although between the two attacks he had enjoyed a short doze.

After this he sank rapidly, and expired, with my finger on his pulse, at 10 minutes past 12 (Noon). He was sensible to within a few minutes of his death, and his end was calm and quiet. This is a sad calamity, although we were not totally unprepared for it, and I fear the depressing morale effect that this lamentable event will have on those who are very sick, and who consider themselves to be in nearly as precarious a condition.

The body was removed from the tent, and placed on an empty sledge. Called the cooks at 4.30 P.M., and, having read prayers in both tents, selected a spot for the grave in a deep snow-drift, not many yards from the camp. Here the grave was prepared by digging down through six feet of hard frozen snow until the surface of the floe was reached, and then two feet further down into the solid ice [82º 41'N]. The corpse, which had swelled up considerably and was terribly disfigured after dissolution took place, was sewn up in a sleeping bag, and laid on a sledge.

With the ensign half-mast, and the Union Jack as a pall, the funeral procession, attended by all but the four very bad cases, started at 9, and the burial-service being read, the remains were consigned to their last icy resting-place in this world. Improvising a rude cross, formed with a boat's oar and a spare sledge-batten, it was placed at the head of the grave, with the following inscription: “Beneath this cross lie buried the remains of Geo. Porter, R.M.A., who died on June 8th, 1876. Thy will be done.”

Of all the melancholy and mournful duties I have ever been called to perform, this has been the saddest. A death in a small party like ours, and under the present circumstances, is a most distressing event, and is keenly felt by all. During the service all were more or less affected, and many to tears.’

The next day brought an unusual sight - a rainbow - and the party started at 9 p.m. with ‘All eyes eagerly directed to the southward, the quarter from which were are anxiously expecting succour. We had advanced the heavy sledge one stage, and had just returned to drag up the two smaller ones, when something moving between the hummocks was espied, which from its rapid motion was soon made out to be the dog-sledge. Hoisted colours. The men appeared quite carried away by their feelings, and it was with difficulty they could muster up a cheer as [Lieutenant] May and [Surgeon] Moss arrived and shook us heartily by the hands.’

The 15 men in the Northern Sledge Party had been absent from their ship for 72 days, and only Markham and three others were capable of walking, the rest having to be carried by sledge back to the Alert. Reorted Surgeon Moss, ‘It was difficult to recognize any of the men, their faces were so swollen and peeled, and their voices so changed.’

Porter's Arctic 1875-76 Medal, his only entitlement, was sent to his mother, Mary Ann, on 24 September 1877.

The above information is based on research by Glenn M. Stein, F.R.G.S., who acknowledges the kind support of Dr. H. J. G. Dartnall, F.R.G.S.; Naomi Boneham and Luisa Retamales.