Voyage to the North Pole | Arctic Dreams | 1
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Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to Against the Odds early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. George Melville peers over the bow of the ship, studying a crack in the polar ice ahead. He wants to line up the ship's nose with the crack and ram through the ice. He calls out to a sailor on his right. Let out some rope. 20 feet. As the sailor works, Melville scans the horizon...

and feels his mood sink. There's nothing but ice as far as the eye can see. It's September 7th, 1879, still technically summer, but here, a hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle, the air is a frigid 20 degrees and the slabs of pack ice are roughly 15 feet thick.

Melville is the engineer on USS Jeanette. The 33 sailors aboard are trying to become the first people to reach the North Pole. If they succeed, they'll be world famous. It's an achievement Melville's been dreaming of for years.

But now, two months into their journey, they're at a standstill. The Jeanette's sharp nose and thick hull are designed to break through pack ice. Normally, they'd just line up her nose with the crack between two slabs, fire the steam engines, and ram the fissure until it breaks open.

But the ice here is just too thick. The ship can't split it. So Melville has jury-rigged a possible solution. Two thick ropes are now anchored into the ice ahead. Each rope stretches back to the ship, where they're connected to a pair of winches, steam-powered cranks that can pull the rope taut.

Melville's idea is to turn the winches on at full power at the same time they fire the engines. He hopes the added thrust will crack the ice jam. But they have to push forward at just the right angle to hit existing weak spots in the ice and break them open. Now that they've let out the ropes and turned the ship, Melville peers over the bow again. The angle looks better. He calls out to the sailors. Fire the engines and the winches on my count. One.

But before he hits three, Melville hears a horrible scraping noise against the ship's hull. He nearly loses his balance as the deck lurches violently. He turns to see an iceberg has broken off and struck the side of the ship. Normally, after a collision with an iceberg, the ship rights itself again. But this time, the deck keeps listing ever more sharply to one side.

Melville realizes that the iceberg is wedged beneath the genet, acting like a giant pry bar that's overturning them. He grabs a nearby post to keep upright. A bucket and a loose crate tumble into him. Give me your hand! Grab that line, quick!

All around him, men shout in panic. Melville tries to stand, but the ship keeps tilting. If she doesn't stop soon, she could capsize and sink. And if the ship goes down here, in the middle of all this ice, hundreds of miles from the nearest land, there's no chance the men aboard will survive.

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In July 1879, 33 men set sail aboard the USS Jeannette on a mission to become the first humans to reach the North Pole. Geographers at the time believed a warm northbound current would give the expedition the momentum it needed all the way to the North Pole. But not long after the journey got underway, the crew of the USS Jeannette faced challenges more daunting than they could ever have imagined.

This is Episode 1, Arctic Dreams. George DeLong pushes open a thick wooden door and steps into the opulent office of the publisher of the New York Herald newspaper.

It's a fall day in Manhattan in 1874, and DeLong has come here to seek funding for his polar expedition. He's a 28-year-old lieutenant in the U.S. Navy, and while his mission is Navy-approved, he needs private financing to pay for it.

Two Pomeranians dart out from a side door. Striding behind them is the Herald's publisher, Gordon Bennett. He's wearing a silk suit that DeLong suspects costs more than his monthly salary. My dogs here are excellent judges of character, and they seem to like you. Please sit.

Bennett leads DeLong to a massive desk and sits behind it in a leather chair the size of a throne. DeLong's chair is more modest. As he settles himself, DeLong takes a map out of his briefcase. "I appreciate your time, Mr. Bennett. So how do you plan to reach the North Pole? Because every journey so far seems to be cursed." DeLong acknowledges this is true.

Over the past decade, a dozen different ships from multiple countries have tried reaching the North Pole, but every single one failed. DeLong actually helped rescue one expedition, but others vanished and were never heard from again. DeLong tells Bennett that his mission will be different. Most voyages start from Greenland, but he plans to sail through the Bering Strait near Alaska and approach the pole near Siberia.

This route has several advantages. A few years earlier, reports emerged of a northward flowing current off Japan. In fact, the US Coast Guard is preparing to map this Japanese current soon. DeLong believes it will help propel his ship north, making the journey easier and faster.

D'Long points to the map. North of Siberia sits a landmass called Wrangel Land. According to the world's top geographer, Wrangel Land is a long, thin continent that stretches directly toward the North Pole.

DeLonge's crew plans to depart San Francisco in July, reach Wrangeland by early fall, and spend the winter there. Yes, their ship will be stuck in the ice during the winter months, but Wrangeland will shield them from the twisting, crunching pack ice that's so deadly to ships. Then, nine months later, once the polar summer sun melts the ice, they'll resume sailing up the coast of Wrangeland to the North Pole, aided by the Japanese current.

The whole mission will take two years. As DeLong finishes explaining, Bennett jumps up from his desk and starts tapping on the map. "I see. Have you talked to this famous geographer? The one who's mapped Wrangel Land?" "I have. And he says we can't fail, provided we secure enough money for a proper ship and supplies." At the mention of money, Bennett's eyes narrow. He holds up a hand.

You realize I run a business here, right? I do, sir. I'll fund your mission. But I expect something in return. I want to send a reporter along. A reporter? Don't worry. I'll find one who's an able seaman. And all news of the voyage gets published in the Herald first. Think of it. The first successful voyage to the North Pole. We'll sell thousands of newspapers. So, do we have a deal?

DeLong removes his glasses and cleans them on his uniform, buying a moment to think. So far, his naval career has been a disappointment. He joined the Navy dreaming of adventure, but aside from his one rescue mission to the Arctic Circle, he's done nothing but tedious patrol work in Canada and the Mediterranean. Reaching the North Pole would make his name and stamp him as one of the great explorers of all time.

Getting there is his destiny. He can feel it. DeLong doesn't like Bennett's conditions. He'll have enough to worry about without some pesky reporter underfoot. But he can't turn down this money. Either he finds a patron, or he can forget about the expedition. He reaches out his hand. Well, sir, we have a deal.

A satisfied smile crosses Bennett's face. The dogs start yipping again, and DeLong feels a surge of excitement. It'll take a few years to find a ship and a crew and make all the necessary preparations, but soon he's going to the North Pole. Emma DeLong wakes up in bed shivering. It's December 1875, the coldest night of winter so far in New York City.

She reaches out to snuggle up next to her husband, George, but all she feels is an empty space beside her. Emma sits up, wondering where George could be. Then she sinks back down under the covers. She knows exactly where he is, in his study, going over maps of the Arctic. She curls up and tries to go back to sleep, but it's too cold, and she's too annoyed.

She finally tucks her long brown hair behind her ears and grabs her robe. Moving down the hallway, she checks on their three-year-old daughter Sylvie, who's sleeping soundly in her room. Then Emma descends the stairs to the study and peers through the open door. Sure enough, George is there, studying maps by candlelight.

He's always been pale, with an auburn mustache and sleepy eyes. But he looks even paler than normal these days. Ever since that newspaper publisher gave George money 14 months ago, he's been utterly obsessed with the Arctic. Emma steps into the room. George? George jumps, banging the table and nearly knocking his candle over. You frightened me.

"Is there something the matter with Sylvie?" "No, she's fine. Why are you up so late?" "Oh, uh, some new maps of Siberia arrived today, near where we'll sail on the initial leg. I need to familiarize myself." "Tell me, why do you want to go to the North Pole so badly?" George looks at her blankly for a moment, like he doesn't understand the question. "Well, I suppose because no one's ever been." "But why do you want to go?"

George gets a familiar, faraway look in his eyes. He's a caring husband and a doting father, but even while playing with Sylvie nowadays, he seems distracted. Emma knows he's dreaming of the Arctic. George sighs. I just want to do something important, you know? Make you proud you married me.

She feels a pang of sympathy. George came from modest roots, unlike Emma's family, who were shipping magnates. Socially, she stooped to marry him, but that's never bothered her. George, I am proud, but you're working yourself to exhaustion. It won't be good for the expedition. But there's so much to do, though. I understand. Let me help. Help?

George looks startled as Emma pulls up a chair, but she nudges him and he moves. With a shrug, he starts explaining the route he's charting. While he does so, she takes his hand. She'd still rather be sleeping, but for the first time in months, she feels George is fully present with her.

George DeLong pulls his coat tight against the gusting wind and spitting rain as he trudges along a weather-beaten pier. Around him, dozens of ships knock against the pier in the waves. It's December 1876, and DeLong is feeling miserable. It's been more than two years since Gordon Bennett agreed to fund his Arctic expedition, and DeLong still hasn't found a ship that's right for the job.

He's been crisscrossing Europe for the past month, scouring every port to no avail. A few days ago, he got a cable about a ship that sounded promising, so he took a long train ride down from Scotland, then a 5am ferry out to here, a harbour on the Isle of Wight in the English Channel.

So far, it doesn't look promising. The pier is lined with nothing but rickety fishing vessels. But finally, he spots the ship he was told about, the Pandora, and halts in his tracks.

At first glance, she's perfect. Made of thick timber, 150 feet long and 25 feet wide. She has three masts for sails, but also a smokestack for a steam engine, allowing her to sail in any weather. She also has a sharply pointed bow for breaking through pack ice.

While he's studying the ship, a stout man emerges onto the deck. DeLong waves. "Hello! Are you the owner?" "I am. Alan Young. Can I come up and see your ship, Mr. Young?" Young shrugs, and so DeLong scales the gangway. He likes the ship even better on board. The dark wooden deck gleams. He can already envision himself striding across her at sea.

But DeLong does see some scarring on the upper edge of the gunnels that run around the rim of the ship. "What happened there?" "Polar bear. We caught one north of Greenland." "So, this ship has been to the Arctic then. How did she perform?" "Been exploring three times there now. And she handled beautifully. She's as stout as they come."

The more DeLong hears, the more excited he gets. The Pandora can hold 100 tons of coal and several years of provisions. She also sleeps around three dozen sailors, which is exactly what he needs. "Excellent. I hear you're selling the ship. How much?" "No, you've heard wrong. I'm not selling. She's the best ship I've ever sailed." "What if I offered you $6,000?"

Young's eyes go wide, and DeLong has to conceal a smile. It's an outrageous amount, much more than she would fetch on the open market. But Gordon Bennett has deep pockets. Even so, Young shakes his head. No, she... she's not for sale.

But DeLong can sense he's tempted. DeLong is confident that with a little more pressure and a little more money, Young will sell. And when he does, DeLong will be a big step closer to making his arctic dreams come true.

George DeLong stands on the deck of his ship and gazes at the mountains of Tierra del Fuego a few miles in the distance. He breathes in the salty air and raises his face to the warm sun. It's October 1878 and he's in a grand mood. Earlier this year, he successfully purchased the Pandora and renamed her the Jeanette after his sponsor, Gordon Bennett's sister.

After a few months of repairs, DeLong and a temporary crew are now sailing the Jeannette from Europe to San Francisco. It's a long journey, six months and 18,000 miles. But today, after rounding the southern tip of South America, they're turning north, the journey's final leg.

Then, after some repairs and preparations in San Francisco, DeLong can finally set off for the North Pole, five years after he first secured financing. As he's enjoying the view, he hears a voice. Lieutenant, a word?

He smiles to see John Daenenhauer. Both men are graduates of the U.S. Naval Academy. Daenenhauer is 29. He's tall and distinguished, with a head of hair so thick that a bird once nestled in it off the coast of Brazil. He's also warm and funny, and DeLong plans to give him the role of navigator for his Arctic voyage. But today, the young man looks grave. He looks down, avoiding eye contact.

"Sir, there's something I need to confess. It's about my past." Dayne Inhauer starts sharing a tale of woe. Five years earlier, he was engaged to the love of his life, but while he was on duty in Hawaii, she unexpectedly broke off their engagement.

Danenhauer fell into a deep depression, so deep that the Navy put him on medical leave. He returned home to his family near Washington, D.C., then checked himself into an insane asylum. He needed peace and quiet to recover. Unfortunately, two cruel doctors there took advantage of him and held him against his will. They even threw him into a padded cell.

Thankfully, Danenhauer's family knew the Secretary of the Navy who intervened to free him. Otherwise, he might still be trapped in there. Hearing all this, DeLong is stunned. "Well, I'm not sure what to say, John." "I guess I'm telling you this for a reason.

to assure you that I never lost control of my wits. I know that other people want to be your navigator on the North Pole expedition. I wouldn't put it past them to start rumors, but I'm as fit as any officer in the Navy.

His words touched DeLong. He has a romantic streak, too. He would have despaired the same way if Emma had rejected him. And he's glad to hear this story from Danenhower directly. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to come forward. DeLong grips Danenhower's shoulder. Thank you, John. I'm even more convinced now you're the right man to serve as navigator. Come, let's have a drink.

As they cross the deck, DeLong feels a swell of pride. His ship has been handling this voyage beautifully, and with men of the highest character aboard, like John Dienenhauer, the success of his polar expedition seems assured.

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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. George Melville tears open an envelope and scans the letter inside. Then he leaps up from his desk and lets out a cheer. He's going to the North Pole! Woo! Yes! It's a cold day in March 1879 at his home in Philadelphia, but Melville feels so flushed with excitement that he cracks open the window.

He begins pacing his study, reading the details of his assignment.

At 38, Melville has spent a third of his life at sea as an engineer for the Navy. He's an absolute whiz with fixing things. He's so good that the Navy initially rejected his request to join the Polar Expedition. They told him that he was just too valuable at the Naval Yard outside Philadelphia. Melville had to beg. He visited the Arctic on a rescue mission once and has been dying to return.

Its harsh beauty utterly captivated him. Now, at last, he's going back. But his joy is interrupted by a voice that sends his spirits crashing back to earth. George, I feel a draft. Did you open a window? It's his wife, Hedy, calling from the bedroom next door. Melville walks down the hall, enters her room, and crinkles his nose at the sour smell.

He and Hedy haven't slept in the same bedroom for years. When he married her, she was so vivacious. But over the past few years, she's grown increasingly withdrawn. Even though it's noon, she's lying in bed with tarot cards spilled all over the floor. There's a half-empty bottle of wine on the nightstand.

She frowns at him. What are you yelling about? And why are you opening windows in the middle of winter? I got a new assignment. Melville starts to explain the expedition. But a few words in, Hetty interrupts. She looks terrified. That's what the dream meant. I saw you in my dreams last night, encased in an ice cube. You were dying. You can't go, George.

She bursts into tears. When Melville tries to hug her, she pushes him away. Melville returns to his study, his mood deflated. This is the best news that he's had in years, but can he really leave Hedy? As scared as she is for him, he's even more scared for her, that she'll fall even deeper into despair and might never come back out.

George DeLong's stomach growls as he scans the dinner menu at The Ebbet, the fanciest hotel restaurant in Washington, D.C. It's early April, 1879, and he's famished after a long day of rushing around. A waiter approaches and takes his order. Yes, I'll have the asparagus soup, the roast beef with mint, and lobster croquettes.

for the wine. DeLong studies the list, but he can hardly focus. After dropping the Jeanette off in San Francisco two months ago, he made his way to Washington by train. He spent the past several days running from office to office, trying to secure additional Navy staff and equipment for the expedition.

He has no time to waste. The expedition needs to depart in just three months to get as far north as possible before summer ends and the Arctic seas freeze over. As hard as it's been to find the right people for the voyage, DeLong's had a few nice surprises recently.

One of them is that Thomas Edison has offered to send some of his recently invented electric light bulbs along with a generator to power them. That way, when polar winter starts, with its months of darkness, the men will still have light. DeLong finally decides on a bottle of red and the waiter starts to leave. Wait, excuse me. My dinner guest is here?

DeLong stands to greet a 31-year-old man with pale eyes and a thick beard. It's Dr. James Ambler, the physician who will be on board for the Arctic voyage. DeLong shakes his hand, then tells Ambler to order. I'll have the pork chop. DeLong laughs. Dr. Ambler, this is the best restaurant in Washington. Don't be shy. The Navy can splurge.

Ambler smiles weakly, but declines to order more. Then he pulls out his chair to sit. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have much appetite. There's a problem with John Danenhauer. Ambler explains that he learned some disturbing news about Danenhauer. Turns out the navigator hadn't voluntarily checked himself into an insane asylum after his engagement breakup. He'd been unstable for months and had been committed. DeLong is stunned.

"Really? You're sure about this?" "Yes, yes, and I checked with several people. I'm worried that the stress of an arctic voyage could cause his mental maladies to flare up again." DeLong slumps back in his chair. This is disastrous news. DeLong knows that he has every right to dismiss Danenhauer from the expedition, but dismissing a top officer within a few months of departure might look like a bad omen.

Sailors are superstitious, and DeLong fears that others would take it as a sign to quit. Then he'd be back at square one of staffing the voyage, and risk missing their window for departure. The waiter returns with DeLong's food, but he's lost his appetite as well. Figuring out what to do about Danenhauer is now the only thing he can think about.

George DeLong knocks on the door of a lawyer's office in Washington, then smooths his hair and uniform. A moment later, a tall man with a square chin opens the door. DeLong introduces himself, and the man ushers him in. "Greetings. My brother speaks warmly of you." The man's name is James Daenenhauer, the brother of DeLong's navigator, John.

James opens a cigar box on his desk and offers one. DeLong declines, but James lights one, then nods. "What can I do for you, sir?" DeLong licks his lips nervously. "I apologize for my awkwardness. It's about your brother John. About his...his spell in the asylum." DeLong explains that polar missions are stressful, and he fears that Danenhower could lose his wits again.

DeLonge stresses that he doesn't want to publicly dismiss the Navigator and embarrass him, so he's come here to ask James for his help. Could you possibly invent a family crisis? Something to detain your brother?

James' face darkens. Detain him? Well, no, not to detain him exactly, but call him away from San Francisco and find some excuse to keep him from returning. Then we can replace him without any shame for him or for your family. I think it's best for everyone. To DeLong's shock, James jumps up and marches around the desk. He gets right in DeLong's face, punctuating each word with his glowing cigar. Listen to me.

"I personally know the Secretary of the Navy. If you exclude my brother from this mission, your life will become a living hell. And you can forget about captaining a ship ever again. You'll be digging latrines in Alaska. Now get the hell out of my office." DeLong protests, but Danenhauer's brother flings open his office door. Stunned, DeLong grabs his hat and leaves.

He finds himself in the hallway again and sighs. The Danenhowers are immensely powerful. He doesn't have a choice. He'll have to stick with John as navigator. It's the mission's first real setback. He prays it's not a serious one, and that John Danenhower has the mental strength to endure two years in one of the coldest, darkest places on Earth.

George Melville reaches up and grabs hold of a 12-foot timber beam dangling from a crane. He guides it down, adding it to a pile of lumber on the deck of the Jeannette. It's May 1879, and a warm day at the San Francisco shipyard. Melville wipes the sweat from his forehead and signals to the crane operator that he's taking a break.

He's been out west for a month now, helping to stock and reinforce the ship for its expedition. He's been terribly busy, a good thing, since it keeps his mind off his wife Hedy, who stayed behind in Philadelphia.

The ship has visited the Arctic before, but expedition leader George DeLong wants to make her even stronger. So they're adding new boilers for extra power, expanding the coal bunkers to 132 tons, and reinforcing the hull with iron and wooden beams to withstand the crush of the pack ice.

All in all, the improvements will cost $50,000. A shocking amount. And that doesn't even count supplies. Melville has already helped load nearly 3,000 pounds each of dried mutton, dried beef, and salt pork, plus 100 pounds of canned beef tongue.

There's also 54,000 pounds of other food, mostly canned vegetables and pemmican, a mix of jerky and fat. Plus, a dozen barrels of lime juice to fight off scurvy, and of course, brandy and grog for long nights in the frozen polar sea. As an engineer, Melville is especially interested in the ship's distillation system to make fresh water.

On his break, he crosses the deck to inspect it. He finds two men installing it: a six-foot tall cast iron tube with various pipes and valves sticking out. The contraption boils seawater, then condenses the vapor into drinking water. It can provide up to 500 gallons per day.

Melville greets the workers and studies the setup. But as he's discussing some suggestions for improvements, he hears a voice behind him. "Melville, what are you doing?" He turns to find the navigator, John Danenhower. Melville points to the distiller. "I was just saying that the distiller here is right next to the exhaust from the boiler, and we could use a flue to capture that waste heat and help boil the seawater. It would save coal."

Melville is surprised at how cross Steinenhauer looks. We'll have plenty of coal. Have you loaded all the timbers? No, not yet, but I have another idea too. The fresh water we're making, it'll condense faster if we cool the collection basin with ice and snow. Melville, are you done? You always overcomplicate things. I personally approve this design. It's simple and it's sound. With all due respect...

Melville winces at the rebuke. He mutters an apology and heads back to the timber.

As he signals the crane operator and gets back to work, Melville runs over the confrontation in his mind. It's a side of Danenhauer he hasn't seen. Touchy. Dismissive. Yes, the navigator outranks him, but he's used to working as a team. Melville still feels Danenhauer will be a credit to the expedition, but he'll certainly be more careful around the man in the future.

Emma DeLong pecks out a message on a typewriter, then turns to her husband. "Hey, what's the name of Gordon Bennett's hotel in Paris? I need to send this cable." While George searches a stack of telegrams, Emma sits back for a rare moment of rest. It's July 7th, 1879, one day before the expedition's departure. She and George are staying in a luxurious hotel in San Francisco, but Emma has barely been outside the room.

Last month, while en route to the West Coast, they dropped their seven-year-old daughter Sylvie with Emma's sister in Iowa. For Emma, it feels like they've been working non-stop ever since. Right now, Emma needs to send a cable to Gordon Bennett to see if he can pay for a private coal ship to resupply the Jeannette in Alaska.

Originally, the Navy was supposed to take care of this, but a war has broken out between Chile and Bolivia and the Navy is sending ships south to protect American interests. So, the needs of the Jeannettes have become a lower priority. George finally finds the address for Gordon Bennett's hotel. Emma adds it to the message.

In truth, she's glad to be so busy. She helped George plot out most of the trip and talk through backup plans for emergencies, like polar bear attacks or a blow from an iceberg. She's felt like his true partner. But today, she's feeling hollow. When George ships out tomorrow, she'll be left behind, alone for at least two years. As she rises, she notices George staring at her.

I've been thinking, what a pretty widow you'd make. Emma scowls. She knows, of course, that the expedition will be dangerous, but they've never addressed the fact that George might not return. Don't be silly. You've got the best ship and crew in the world. I'm serious. If the worst does happen, don't mourn too long. You're an amazing woman.

Emma fights to swallow her emotions. She wants to rush over and throw her arms around him, even beg him to stay. Instead, she blinks hard and grabs her handbag from her bedside table. She opens it and removes a gift box wrapped in red tissue. I might as well give you this now. He unwraps it and removes a sky blue silk flag. I want you to fly this at the North Pole and to think of me then.

George wraps her in his arms and murmurs that he'll be thinking of her every hour. Emma smiles. He'll have plenty of other things to occupy him, but it warms her heart to hear this. She could sit here and be held by him all day, but after a long minute, she rises to send the telegram. George protests her from getting up, but she silences him with a kiss.

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Engineer George Melville takes off his hat, exposing his bald head, and waves at the throngs of people lining the docks. It's July 8th, 1879. He's standing aboard the Jeannette, which has just pushed off from the pier.

He turns to the ship's second in command, Charles Chip, a tall thin man with a beard and big jug ears. "I think half of San Francisco came down to see us all." "I think you're right. There must be thousands on the pier." Melville grins. The morning started gloomy with clouds and rough seas. But an hour ago at noon, the sun broke through and the water couldn't look more inviting.

Seeing the crowds thrills Melville. Newspapers have been running story after story about the expedition, and the crew has become moderately famous. Last night, two men in a restaurant actually argued over who would buy him dinner. The expedition has truly captivated the public.

Currently, the crew consists of 20 sailors, plus five officers. Then there's a doctor, a naturalist, a reporter for Gordon Bennett's New York Herald, and an Arctic expert named Dunbar to help pilot them around the ice. There are also two Chinese men they hired in San Francisco, a cook and a steward.

When they reach Alaska, they plan to hire two dog sled operators. That, in total, will bring the crew to 33 men. As the crowds at the dock recede, Melville can sense only one sour note. He turns the chip. "Any sign of the Navy?" Chip scowls. "I'm afraid not. They think we've stolen their thunder." Melville nods.

Usually, on high-profile missions, the Navy sends vessels to escort the expedition ship to the open sea. It's a nice honor. But today, the Navy didn't send a single ship. Melville agrees with Chip's reasoning. The Jeanette crew has become so famous that the Navy brass in Washington is jealous. Melville is disappointed, but not surprised.

But as they enter the mouth of the harbor, Melville hears a welcome surprise. It's the thunder of artillery fire from the army base at the Presidio. At least one branch of the military is giving them a rousing send-off. Melville waves his hat, then covers his head. A few minutes later, they hit the open sea, and Melville feels his heart swell.

The last few days of Celebrity were fun, but he's excited to be underway. He's never felt better about the start of a mission. Dr. James Ambler strolls the deck of the Jeannette, enjoying a beautiful afternoon. It's the ship's second day at sea, and Ambler likes to take an afternoon walk whenever he can. Ambler has never been to the Arctic, but he's not worried.

He enlisted in the army as a teenager during the Civil War and spent most of the conflict in a prisoner of war camp. Since then, very little frightens him. He joined the Navy five years ago after earning a medical degree in Maryland.

The one disappointment on this journey has been the ship's slow speed. She's outfitted with so many heavy iron beams and loaded down with so many supplies that she's barely making 10 knots. Thankfully, they'll soon enter the Japanese current streaming north, which will speed their progress. Without that, they'd never get through the pack ice up north before it freezes for winter.

A scream interrupts Ambler's stroll. He sprints toward the stern of the ship to find several men gathered around a hatch. There's been an accident involving William Nindemann, a German-born sailor with a massive handlebar mustache. He's the burliest man on board, six feet of hard muscle. And at that moment, he's covered in blood.

The sailors were rearranging some gear below deck, and a hatch slammed down on Nindamen's left hand. His pinky was nearly severed, and it's hanging by a flap. Ambler grabs a cotton rag nearby to staunch the blood, then barks at the other sailors. "Someone grab my medical kit. The black bag in my cabin." As one sailor runs off, Ambler checks with Nindamen. "Are you in pain?" "I've felt worse."

When the medical kit arrives, Ambler digs out his needle and thread, as well as a leather strap. He has Nindaman bite down on the strap, then gets to work. It's a delicate process, sewing a finger back together. Even if it survives, there's just a 50-50 shot Nindaman will ever regain any feeling in it.

It takes a full half hour of work. By the end, Ambler's own hands are covered in blood. But he's pleased with the results. He rinses his hands in a basin of water, then fishes out a bottle of iodine from his kit and splashes some on the wound. After the iodine bath, Ninderman holds the finger up to inspect it. You finished? I am. Wait, where are you going? Back to work.

"We've got to finish this job by dinnertime." "But you almost lost your finger. You have to go on the sick list." "No, I'll be fine. Thank you, Doctor." At this, Nindaman hoists a coil of rope and starts back down a ladder. His fellow sailors shrug and grab some gear themselves. Ambler is left staring, his mouth agape. He's never seen a patient hop up from surgery like that. It's almost unsettling.

But in another way, it reassures him. In the hostile environs of the Arctic, a man as tough as William Nindeman is going to be very useful to have around. Thomas Anticell rises and clears his throat. There's a half-dozen scholars gathered in his dusty, crowded living room in a Washington, D.C. townhouse. They look up eagerly, but Anticell is not smiling back. Gentlemen, I have grim news.

Anticel is a chemist and a doctor, but his passion is geography. He's been advising the U.S. Coast Guard for years on a major survey it's undertaking to map the warm-water Japanese current that runs north through the Bering Strait. It's late July 1879, and the survey wrapped up a few weeks ago.

Anticel got some preliminary data yesterday, then hastily called this meeting with some local members of the American Geographical Society. He adjusts his glasses, glances at his notes, and gets right to the point. The Coast Guard found zero evidence of any warm water current flowing into the Bering Strait.

Anticel explains that the Coast Guard ships did find a strong current near Japan, as expected, but contrary to expectations, the Japanese current died well before reaching Alaska. Stories that claimed otherwise were simply false. Old sailor tales. One scholar's hand shoots up in the audience. Well, what does this mean for the Jeanette? They're only three weeks into their expedition. I'm not going to sugarcoat it.

This is a disaster. They needed that current to propel them north to Wrangel Land before the Pak-ice traps them. I'm afraid there's no hope of that. Anticel holds up his hands for quiet, but it does no good. And Anticel can't blame them. He felt the same panic upon first reviewing the data, wishing the results were different.

Another member suggests contacting the Jeanette to warn them so they can abandon the expedition. But Anticel shakes his head. Their first scheduled stop in Alaska is already beyond the range of telegraph service, and mail takes weeks to get there. There's simply no way to warn the crew or to call them back. Suddenly, the living room is deathly quiet. Anticel knows exactly what they're all thinking.

that every one of those brave men on the Jeannette are sailing to their doom. This is the first episode of our five-part series, "Voyage to the North Pole." A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research.

If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the books In the Kingdom of Ice by Hampton Sides and Icebound by Leonard Guttridge. I'm your host, Mike Corey. Sam Kean wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Sound design by Rob Schieliga. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Coordinating producer is Desi Blaylock. Produced by Emily Frost. Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior managing producer is Ryan Lohr.

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