Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

The Arctic 1875-76 medal awarded to Stoker John Shirley, H.M.S. Alert, a member of Markham’s Northern Sledge Party who suffered badly from cold and scurvy on their epic ‘Farthest North’ journey of 72 days and 600 miles

Arctic Medal 1875-76 (J. Shirley. Stoker. H.M.S. Alert.) fitted with a silver Hunt & Roskell ribbon buckle, very fine £5,000-£6,000

A total of 155 Arctic 1875-76 medals were awarded including 62 to the Alert, whose teams penetrated furthest north during the expedition.

John Shirley was born at Maidstone, Kent, on 20 February 1843, and joined the Royal Navy aboard H.M.S. Waterloo as a Boy 2nd Class on 28 October 1857, signing on for Continuous Service from age 18, which he duly did on 20 February 1861, and for a further 10 years on 20 February 1871. A boiler maker by trade he served as a Stoker throughout his naval career. He served in Alert as a Stoker from 17 April 1875 to 5 December 1876, and was rated Leading Stoker on the same day. During this period he was a member of Commander A. H. Markham’s seven-man team on the sledge Marco Polo for the Northern Depot Laying Party in the Autumn of 1875 (25 September to 15 October), during which one man suffered amputation and two others were disabled by frost-bite; Lieutenant May and another man on the sledge Hercules also suffered amputation.

Shirley was also a member of Markham’s eight-man team on the same sledge for the epic Northern Division Sledging Party in the Spring of 1876. This expedition left Alert on 3 April 1876, and comprised H.M. Sledges Support, Marco Polo (with a boat) and Victoria (with another boat), the object of the journey being to attain the highest northern latitude possible, and to determine the possibility of a more fully equipped party reaching the North Pole.

The three sledges Marco Polo, Victoria and Support weighed a total of 6,079 lbs. - 15 men 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.’

By mid-April Shirley was suffering badly from what was afterwards diagnosed as scurvy. On 14 April, Markham noted in his diary, ‘John Shirley, one of my sledge crew, complained of pains in his ankles and knees. On examination they appeared slightly swollen, and I treated him according to the instructions laid down for the guidance of the sledging officers by our doctor’, and the next day, ‘Shirley is no better, his ankle is swollen and knee very puffy – after having dressed it with turpentine liniment, I bandaged it. Too cold to write.’

The following day, Easter Sunday, he continued, ‘Wind still blowing fresh, though it has moderated considerably, still it is so cutting & piercing that the men would be unable to face it, and there is so much drift that it would be impossible to see our way through the hummocks, I therefore deemed it prudent to remain encamped. We have all unanimously come to the conclusion that this has been the most wretched and miserable Easter Sunday that any of us have ever passed. I have had no feeling in my feet for the last 40 hours and sleep is out of the question. 48 hours in a gale of wind in one's bag off [Cape] Joseph Henry with a temperature 67° below freezing point, is not pleasant! Despite the cold we did not neglect the usual toast last night, also the 1st anniversary of the ship's commissioning and the Captain's birthday – we gave the latter three cheers, which was taken up by the 'Victoria's', and then we commenced to cheer each other by way of cheering up our spirits... At half-past four in the afternoon, the wind having subsided, it was determined to make a move. We felt that anything was preferable to the tedium and dreariness of our compulsory detention. The tents were accordingly struck, sledges packed, and the march renewed. Shirley, being unable to walk, was placed in his sleeping bag, rolled up in the tent robes, and tied securely on one of the sledges. This seriously added to the weight to be dragged, whilst it also reduced our motive power; however, we hoped that by thus giving him complete rest, he would the more rapidly recover and resume his place on the drag-ropes.’

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.’ 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 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, Markham noting on 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.’

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, commanding H.M. Sledge Victoria, 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.’

The next day, 9 June, 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 we 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 had travelled a distance of 600 statute miles; only Markham and three others were capable of walking, the rest, including Stoker John Shirley, having to be carried by sledge back to the Alert. Reported Surgeon Moss, ‘It was difficult to recognise any of the men, their faces were so swollen and peeled, and their voices so changed.’

Leading Stoker John Shirley afterwards returned to Asia until October 1877, having qualified as an Artificer Diver the previous month and, after a few weeks in Tamar, he joined Lapwing on New Year’s day of 1878. Having been awarded three Good Conduct Badges by July 1876, he lost all three in January 1878 (no reason recorded), and was reduced to Stoker on 12 December, only to be re-advanced to Leading Stoker on 21 June 1879, the day before he joined Iron Duke. He transferred to Tyne on 9 April 1881 for two months before finally being Shore Pensioned from Pembroke on 5 September 1881. This Arctic medal is his Shirley’s entitlement and it was delivered to him on board Asia on 18 May 1877.