End Off Iceland

Late in November in the year 1825, a child was born in Paris who was to be one of the greatest neurologists of the 19th Century. Jean Martin Charcot became professor of pathological anatomy at the University of Paris, started a neurological clinic at the old Salpetriere (public hospital for the aged and insane) which wielded a potent influence in medicine and psychiatry. Charcot pooh-poohed the antique physiological theories of hysteria, probed the psychological sources through hypnotism. He differentiated the manifestations of locomotor ataxia, published researches on many another malady from gout to chronic pneumonia, some of which bear his name. At the height of his fame a young physician named Sigmund Freud went to study with him, and under his tutelage and encouragement pursued the researches that eventually flowered in Freudian psychoanalysis.

To Jean Martin Charcot in 1867 a son was born who was christened Jean-Baptiste-Etienne-Auguste. The boy grew up without thought of any other vocation than his father's, in which he quickly showed marked ability. In 1896. after practicing medicine for only six years, he became head of the clinics at the University of Paris. This was unheard of in a country which venerates age in scholarship and government. Dr. Charcot regretted that his father had not lived to see this honor.

Some time in the next seven years Dr. Charcot came to feel that his true calling was not medicine but exploration. In 1903 he left for the Antarctic in a small vessel called the Franc,ais, explored the Palmer Archipelago. Back in France, he built a ship which was then regarded as the last word in polar exploration vessels. This was the Pourquoi Pas ("Why Not"), a 140-ft. three-master of 449 tons, equipped with both sail and steam and reinforced for icebreaking. In 1908 he took the Pourqnoi Pas to the Antarctic, explored 2,250 mi. of coastline, discovered an island which was called Charcot Land, gathered a mass of meteorological, geological and biological material, made hundreds of deep-sea soundings.

During the War Dr. Charcot commanded a submarine chaser, won the Croix de Guerre and Britain's D. S. C. Afterward he turned to Earth's other Pole, took the Pourqnoi Pas on seven trips to Greenland, exploring the coast, sounding the bottom, studying Eskimo folklore. In 1928 the sturdy old man in his sturdy old ship searched long & hard for his lost colleague, Roald Amundsen. By this time he had presented the Pourquoi Pas to the French Museum of Natural History, which sponsored most of his expeditions.

In July 1935, Jean-Baptiste-Etienne-Auguste Charcot took the Pourqnoi Pas once more out of St. Malo, bound for Greenland. Said he then: "This voyage will be my last." Objectives were to bring back a party of scientists, make additional studies of the polar current and more extensive deep-sea soundings, visit a settleent of Eskimos unknown to Europeans. The explorer was expected in Copenhagen late this month to attend a reception in his honor, receive a gold medal.

After leaving Greenland last month the Pourquoi Pas developed boiler trouble, was towed in for repairs at Reykjavik, Iceland. As a fortnight's delay seemed imminent, some of the party left for European ports by other boats. When Dr. Charcot steamed out of Reykjavik last week, he had with him two naturalists, a geographer, a photographer, three other scientists, a crew of 30, several dogs, a mass of records.

At nightfall the wind rose, increased to a howling gale.* Captain Le Connait turned back to seek shelter in port. Probably mistaking one lighthouse for another in the wild darkness, the ship's master crashed into a reef off Borgarfjord. The entire bow of the Pourquoi Pas snapped off. With engines dead. Captain Le Connait tried to get the ship clear by hoisting sail. But with monster seas carrying men and lifeboats overboard, he gave up and ordered the others to pull on life preservers and jump.

Soon after dawn fishermen on shore saw the one remaining mast of the Pourquoi Pas tossing above the wave crests. A cabin door tumbled ashore with a man lashed to it. He was Quartermaster Eugene Gounlee. The Icelanders revived him with hot blankets and coffee, let him sleep. When he woke he told a confused story of the Pourquoi Pas' last moments. He thought that the boilers had exploded, that the ship then slipped from the rocks, sank like a stone.

By nightfall searching vessels had plucked 24 bodies from the sea. Others were washed ashore, their blue arms and legs waving stiffly in the foaming, bitter-cold surf. When one of these was dragged up on the beach and turned on its back, Icelanders instantly recognized the keen, scrub-bearded face of Jean-Baptiste-Etienne-Auguste Charcot.

* On the other side of the Atlantic last week a violent hurricane whirled up the U. S. seaboard. Hooded Norfolk and many another boats smashed small shipping, took 11 lives.

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