[Illustration:
TAKING ON AN ESKIMO PILOT.
]
MY ARCTIC JOURNAL
A YEAR AMONG ICE-FIELDS AND ESKIMOS
BY
JOSEPHINE DIEBITSCH-PEARY
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF
THE GREAT WHITE JOURNEY
ACROSS GREENLAND
BY
ROBERT E. PEARY
CIVIL ENGINEER, U. S. NAVY
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1894
_All rights reserved_
THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK, U. S. A.
_INTRODUCTORY NOTE_
_On June 6, 1891, the steam-whaler “Kite,” which was to bear the
expedition of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences northward,
set sail from the port of New-York, her destination being Whale Sound,
on the northwest coast of Greenland, where it had been determined to
pass the winter, preliminary to the long traverse of the inland ice
which was to solve the question of the extension of Greenland in the
direction of the Pole. The members of the expedition numbered but five
besides the commander, Mr. Peary, and his wife. They were Dr. F. A.
Cook, Messrs. Langdon Gibson, Eivind Astrup, and John T. Verhoeff, and
Mr. Peary’s faithful colored attendant in his surveying labors in
Nicaragua, Matthew Henson. This was the smallest number that had ever
been banded together for extended explorations in the high Arctic zone.
A year and a quarter after their departure, with the aid of a relief
expedition conducted by Professor Angelo Heilprin, Mr. Peary’s party,
lacking one of its members, the unfortunate Mr. Verhoeff, returned to
the American shore. The explorer had traversed northern Greenland from
coast to coast, and had added a remarkable chapter to the history of
Arctic exploration._
_The main results of Mr. Peary’s journey were:_
_The determination of the rapid convergence of the shores of Greenland
above the 78th parallel of latitude, and consequently the practical
demonstration of the insularity of this great land-mass;_
_The discovery of the existence of ice-free land-masses to the northward
of Greenland; and_
_The delineation of the northward extension of the great Greenland
ice-cap._
_In the following pages Mrs. Peary recounts her experiences of a full
twelvemonth spent on the shores of McCormick Bay, midway between the
Arctic Circle and the North Pole. The Eskimos with whom she came in
contact belong to a little tribe of about three hundred and fifty
individuals, completely isolated from the rest of the world. They are
separated by hundreds of miles from their nearest neighbors, with whom
they have no intercourse whatever. These people had never seen a white
woman, and some of them had never beheld a civilized being. The
opportunities which Mrs. Peary had of observing their manners and mode
of life have enabled her to make a valuable contribution to ethnological
learning._
_THE PUBLISHERS._
PREFACE
This plain and simple narrative of a year spent by a refined woman in
the realm of the dreaded Frost King has been written only after
persistent and urgent pressure from friends, by one who shrank from
publicity, and who reluctantly yielded to the idea that her experiences
might be of interest to others besides her immediate friends.
I have been requested to write a few words of introduction; and while
there may be some to whom it might occur that I was too much interested
to perform this task properly, it must nevertheless be admitted that
there is probably no one better fitted than myself to do it. Little,
indeed, need be said.
The feeling that led Mrs. Peary through these experiences was first and
foremost a desire to be by my side, coupled with the conviction that she
was fitted physically as well as otherwise to share with me a portion at
least of the fatigues and hardships of the work. I fully concurred in
this feeling, and yet, in spite of my oft-expressed view that the
dangers of life and work in the Arctic regions have been greatly
exaggerated, I cannot but admire her courage. She has been where no
white woman has ever been, and where many a man has hesitated to go; and
she has seen phases of the life of the most northerly tribe of human
beings on the globe, and in many ways has been enabled to get a closer
insight into their ways and customs than had been obtained before.
I rarely, if ever, take up the thread of our Arctic experiences without
reverting to two pictures: one is the first night that we spent on the
Greenland shore after the departure of the “Kite,” when, in a little
tent on the rocks—a tent which the furious wind threatened every moment
to carry away bodily—she watched by my side as I lay a helpless cripple
with a broken leg, our small party the only human beings on that shore,
and the little “Kite,” from which we had landed, drifted far out among
the ice by the storm, and invisible through the rain. Long afterward she
told me that every unwonted sound of the wind set her heart beating with
the thoughts of some hungry bear roaming along the shore and attracted
by the unusual sight of the tent; yet she never gave a sign at the time
of her fears, lest it should disturb me.
The other picture is that of a scene perhaps a month or two later,
when—myself still a cripple, but not entirely helpless—this same woman
sat for an hour beside me in the stern of a boat, calmly reloading our
empty firearms while a herd of infuriated walrus about us thrust their
savage heads with gleaming tusks and bloodshot eyes out of the water
close to the muzzles of our rifles, so that she could have touched them
with her hand, in their efforts to get their tusks over the gunwale and
capsize the boat. I may perhaps be pardoned for saying that I never
think of these two experiences without a thrill of pride and admiration
for her pluck.
In reading the pages of this narrative it should be remembered that
within sixty miles of where Kane and his little party endured such
untold sufferings, within eighty miles of where Greely’s men one by one
starved to death, and within less than fifty miles of where Hayes and
his party and one portion of the “Polaris” party underwent their Arctic
trials and tribulations, this tenderly nurtured woman lived for a year
in safety and comfort: in the summer-time climbed over the
lichen-covered rocks, picking flowers and singing familiar home songs,
shot deer, ptarmigan, and ducks in the valleys and lakes, and even tried
her hand at seal, walrus, and narwhal in the bays; and through the long,
dark winter night, with her nimble fingers and ready woman’s insight,
was of inestimable assistance in devising and perfecting the details of
the costumes which enabled Astrup and myself to make our journey across
the great ice-cap in actual comfort.
Perhaps no greater or more convincing proof than this could be desired
of what great improvements have been made in Arctic methods. That
neither Mrs. Peary nor myself regret her Arctic experiences, or consider
them ill-advised, may be inferred from the fact that she is once more by
my side in my effort to throw more light on the great Arctic mystery.
R. E. PEARY,
_Civil Engineer, U. S. N._
FALCON HARBOR, BOWDOIN BAY,
GREENLAND, August 20, 1893.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
NORTHWARD BOUND 9
IN THE MELVILLE BAY PACK 18
ESTABLISHING OURSELVES 31
HUNTS AND EXPLORATIONS 41
BOAT JOURNEYS AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER 54
WINTER UPON US 65
ESKIMO VISITORS 74
ARCTIC FESTIVITIES 84
THE NEW YEAR 101
SUNSHINE AND STORM 112
SLEDGE JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF 124
THE SLEDGE JOURNEY—(_Continued_) 139
OFF FOR THE INLAND ICE 147
WEARY DAYS OF WAITING 156
MY CAMPING EXPERIENCE IN TOOKTOO VALLEY 168
“OOMIAKSOAK TIGALAY!” (THE SHIP HAS COME!) 176
RETURN OF THE EXPLORERS 182
BOAT JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF 189
FAREWELL TO GREENLAND 200
GREENLAND REVISITED 211
THE GREAT WHITE JOURNEY 221
CHAPTER I
NORTHWARD BOUND
First Sight of Greenland—Frederikshaab Glacier—Across the Arctic
Circle—Perpetual Daylight—Sunlit Disko—The Climb to the
Ice-cap—Dinner at Inspector Anderssen’s—A Native Dance—From Disko to
Upernavik—Upernavik—The Governor and his Wife—The Duck
Islands—Gathering Eggs and Eider-down and Shooting Ducks.
Wednesday, June 24. We have sailed and tossed, have broken through the
ice-barriers of Belle Isle Straits, and once more ride the rolling
swells of the broad Atlantic. Our three days’ jam in the ice has given
us a foretaste of Arctic navigation, but the good little “Kite” speeds
northward with a confidence which inspires a feeling of security that
not even the famed “greyhounds of the ocean” afford. Genial Captain Pike
is on the bridge and off the bridge, and his keen eye is casting for the
land. When I came on deck to-day I found the bold, wild coast of
Greenland on the right. It was a grand sight—the steep, black cliffs,
some of them descending almost vertically to the sea, their tops covered
with dazzling snow, and the inland ice flowing through the depressions
between their summits; at the foot of the cliffs gleamed bergs of
various sizes and shapes, some of them a beautiful blue, others white as
snow. The feature of the day was the Frederikshaab glacier, which comes
down to the sea in latitude 62° 30′. It did not, however, impress me as
being very grand, owing perhaps to our being so far from it. Its face is
seventeen miles long, and we could see it like a wall of white marble
before us. Long after we had passed it, it still appeared to be with us,
and it kept us company nearly all day. Just beyond the glacier was
disclosed the most beautiful mountain scenery imaginable. The weather
was deliciously warm, and revealed to us a new aspect of Arctic climate.
It seems strange to be sitting on deck in a light coat, not even
buttoned, and only a cap on my head, in the most brilliant sunshine, and
gazing on snow-covered mountains.
[Illustration:
Out on the Billowy Sea.
The First Fragment of Greenland Ice.
]
[Illustration:
Capt. Richard Pike—“On Duty.”
]
Thursday, June 25. We were promised another lovely day, but after noon
the weather changed and a cool wind sprang up, which helped to push our
little craft along at a good rate. To-night we shall have the midnight
sun for the first time, and it will be weeks, even months, before he
sets for us again. Everything on deck is dripping from the fog which has
gathered about us.
Friday, June 26. In spite of the thick fog we have been making good
time, and expect to be in Disko, or more properly Godhavn, about noon
to-morrow. We saw our first eider-ducks to-day. Numerous bergs again
gleam up in the distance, probably the output of the Jakobshavn glacier.
Tuesday, June 30. We have been in a constant state of excitement since
Saturday morning, when we first set foot on Greenland’s ice-bound
shores. The pilot, a half-breed Eskimo, came on board and took us into
the harbor of Godhavn shortly after nine o’clock. Mr. Peary, Captain
Pike, Professor Heilprin, and myself went ashore and paid our respects
to Inspector Anderssen and his family. They were very attentive to us,
and invited “Mr. and Mistress Peary” to stay with them during their stop
in Godhavn—a pleasure they were, however, compelled to forego. In the
afternoon a party of us from the “Kite” set out on our first Arctic
tramp, our objective point being the summit of the lofty basalt cliffs
that tower above the harbor. My outfit consisted of a red blanket
combination suit reaching to the knee, long knit stockings, a short
eider-down flannel skirt reaching to the ankles, and the “kamiks,” or
long-legged moccasins, which I had purchased in Sidney. The day was
exceptionally fine and sunny, and we started off in the best of spirits.
Never had I seen so many different wild flowers in bloom at once. I
could not put my foot down without crushing two or three different
varieties. Mr. Gibson, while chasing a butterfly, slipped and strained
the cords of his left foot so that he was obliged to return to the ship.
Never had I stepped on moss so soft and beautiful, all shades of green
and red, some beds of it covered so thickly with tiny pink flowers that
you could not put the head of a pin down between them. We gathered and
pressed as many flowers as we could conveniently carry—anemones, yellow
poppies, mountain pinks, various _Ericaceæ_, etc. Sometimes our path was
across snow-drifts, and sometimes we were ankle-deep in flowers and
moss. Mountain streams came tumbling down in every little gully, and
their water was so delicious that it seemed impossible to cross one of
these streams without stooping to drink. Our advance was very slow, as
we could not resist the temptation of constantly stopping to look back
and feast upon the beauties of the view. Disko Bay, blue as sapphire,
thickly studded with icebergs of all sizes and beautifully colored by
the sun’s rays, lay at our feet, with the little settlement of Godhavn
on one side and the brown cliffs towering over it. As far as the eye
could reach, the sea was dotted with icebergs, which looked like a fleet
of sail-boats. The scene was simply indescribable. We reached the
summit, at an elevation of 2400 feet, and built a cairn, in which we
placed a tin box containing a piece of paper with our names written upon
it, and some American coins. From the summit of these cliffs we stepped
upon the ice-cap, which seemed to roll right down to their tops. The
temperature was 91° F. in the sun, and 56° in the shade. As we descended
a blue mist seemed to hang over that part of the cliffs that lay in
shadow, and the contrast with the white bergs gleaming in the sapphire
waters below was very striking. We returned to the foot of the cliff
after eight o’clock. On Sunday we made another expedition, to the Blaese
Dael, or “windy valley,” where a beautiful double waterfall comes
tumbling through the hard rock, into which it has graven a deep channel.
We gathered more flowers, and collected some seaweed; the mosquitos, of
which we had had a foretaste the day before, were extremely troublesome,
and recalled to memory the shores of New Jersey. When we reached the
first Eskimo hut, a number of the piccaninnies[1] came to me and
presented me with bunches of wild flowers. We gave them some hardtack in
return, and they were happy.
Footnote 1:
The Eskimos frequently designate their children as piccaninnies, a
word doubtless introduced by the whalers.
Mr. Peary, Professor Heilprin, myself, and two other members of our
party dined with the inspector in the evening, joining some members of
the Danish community, who had also been invited. The course consisted of
fresh codfish with caper-sauce, roast ptarmigan, potatoes boiled and
then browned; and for dessert, “Rudgrud,” a “dump,” almonds, and
raisins. There was, following European custom, a varied accompaniment of
wines.
After dinner the gentlemen went up-stairs to examine the geological and
oölogical collections of the inspector, while the ladies preferred the
parlor with their coffee. Were it not for the outer surroundings, it
would have been difficult to realize that we were in the distant Arctic
realm, so truly homelike were the scenes of the little household, and so
cheerful the little that was necessary to make living here not only
comfortable, but pleasant. The entire community numbers barely 120
souls, nine tenths of whom are Eskimos, mainly half-breeds; the
remainder are the Danish officials and their families, whose recreation
lies almost entirely within the little circle which they themselves
constitute.
Toward nine o’clock we visited the storehouse, where a native ball was
in progress. Several of our boys went the rounds with the Eskimo
“belles,” but for me the odor of the interior was too strong to permit
me to say that looking on was an “unalloyed pleasure.” The steps were
made to the music of stringed instruments, over which the resident
half-breeds have acquired a fair mastery. The participants and onlookers
were all in a lively frame of mind, but not uproarious; and at the
appointed time of closing—ten o’clock—all traces of hilarity had
virtually been banished.
[Illustration:
The Most Northern Outpost of Civilization on the Globe—Upernavik.
]
We had hoped to leave early on the following morning, but it was not
until near two o’clock that the fog began to lift, and that a departure
was made possible. Firing the official salute, and dipping our colors,
we gave three hearty cheers in honor of our first Greenland hosts, and
sailed out of the rock-bound harbor. It soon cleared up, and we were
able to make our normal seven knots an hour. This morning it was foggy
for a while, but it cleared up beautifully, and now we are just skimming
along, and expect to reach Upernavik, the most northern of the Danish
settlements in Greenland, about nine o’clock in the evening.
Thursday, July 2. We did not reach Upernavik until 2.30 yesterday
morning, owing to a very strong current which was running against us all
the way from Godhavn. We remained up all night, and at 1.30 A. M. were
enjoying the dazzling brightness of the sunshine. Mr. Peary took a
number of photographs between midnight and morning. Upernavik is a very
different-looking place from Godhavn. There are four frame-houses and a
little church. The natives live in turf huts, very miserable-looking
habitations, built right down in the mud. As soon as our ship steamed
into the harbor, in which two Danish vessels were at anchor, the
governor, Herr Beyer, came on board with his lieutenant-governor, a
young fellow who had arrived only three days before. We returned the
visit at noon, and were pleasantly received by the governor and his
wife, a charming woman of about thirty years, who had been married but a
year, and whose fondness for home decoration had expressed itself in the
pictures, bric-à-brac, fancy embroideries, and flowering plants which
were everywhere scattered about, and helped to make up an extremely cozy
home. As in all other houses in the country, the guests were treated to
wine immediately on entering, and with a delicate politeness the
governor presented me with a corsage bouquet of the flowers of
Upernavik, neatly tied up with the colors of Denmark. Our visit was
fruitful in the receipt of presents, among which were Eskimo carvings, a
dozen bottles of native Greenland beer, and a box of “goodies,”
addressed to “Miss Peary,” and to be opened, as a reminder, on Christmas
eve. The hospitality shown to us could not have been more marked had our
friendship extended over many years.
[Illustration:
THE SUNSET GLOW—BERG OFF SVARTENHOEK.
]
Our visit was a brief one, as we were to weigh anchor early in the
afternoon. We steamed away from Upernavik and headed north. The fog had
cleared away and disclosed a giant mountain towering above us in the
harbor. The sun shone brightly, and the sea was smooth as glass and blue
as turquoise. The night promised to be a beautiful one, but I resisted
the temptation to stay up, having been up the entire night before, and
the greater part of the one before that. At 4 A. M. Captain Pike knocked
at our door and informed us that in half an hour we would be at the Duck
Islands. Here we were to land and all hands shoot eider-ducks and gather
their eggs for our winter supply. We were soon on shore, and then began
a day’s sport such as I had often read about, but never expected to see.
The ducks flew in thick flocks all about us, and on every side were
nests as large as a large hen-nest, made of eider-down and containing
from three to six eggs. The nests were not hidden, but right out on the
rocks in full sight. Alas! we were too late; the ducks were breeding,
and out of 960 eggs we did not get over 150 good ones. As I had not
taken my gun, I spent the time in gathering down, and collected
forty-three pounds in five hours. After returning to the “Kite” for
breakfast, we visited a second island, and there I bagged a bird, much
to my satisfaction. Altogether ninety-six ducks were shot.