ESTABLISHING OURSELVES
Arrival at McCormick Bay—Selecting the Site for the House—Temporary
Quarters—Hurrying the Erection of the House—White Whales—Departure
of the “Kite”—Alone on the Arctic Shore—A Summer Storm—Arctic
Picnicking—The First Birthday and the First Deer—Birthday-dinner
Menu—Departure of the Boat Party for Hakluyt and Northumberland
Islands after Birds and Eskimos—Occupations during their
Absence—Return of the Party with an Eskimo Family.
Sunday, July 26. Mr. Peary is getting along nicely. His nights are
fairly comfortable, and consequently he feels much better by day; his
back now troubles him more than his leg. Yesterday morning at three
o’clock he was awakened and told that the ice prevented our getting to
Cape Acland, and that we were just abreast of McCormick Bay, and could
not proceed further into the sound. He accordingly decided to put up our
quarters on the shores of this bay. It was now a question as to which
side of the bay would be most favorable for a home. At 9 A. M., together
with several members of our party, I rowed over to the southeast shore,
and walked along the coast for about three miles, prospecting for a
site, and made a provisional choice of what seemed a desirable knoll. We
returned to the “Kite” about noon. After dinner Professor Heilprin, Dr.
Cook, Astrup, and three others went over to the other shore, and toward
evening they returned with the report that the place was perfectly
desolate and not at all suitable for a camp. After supper we returned to
the southeast shore to see if we could improve on the location selected
in the morning, but after tramping for miles came back to the old site.
While it cannot in truth be said that the spot is a specially attractive
one, it would be equally untrue to describe it as being entirely devoid
of charm or attraction. Flowers bloom in abundance on all sides, and
their varied colors,—white, pink, and yellow,—scattered through a
somewhat somber base of green, picture a carpet of almost surpassing
beauty. Rugged cliffs of sandstone, some sixteen hundred to eighteen
hundred feet high, in which the volcanic forces have built up long black
walls of basalt, rise steeply behind us, and over their tops the eternal
ice-cap is plainly visible. Only a few paces from the base of the knoll
are the silent and still partially ice-covered waters of the bay, which
extends five miles or more over to the opposite shore, and perhaps three
times that distance eastward to its termination. A number of lazy
icebergs still stand guard between us and the open waters of the western
horizon, where the gray and ice-flecked bluffs of Northumberland and
Hakluyt Islands disappear from sight.
[Illustration:
ON THE BEACH OF McCORMICK BAY.
]
This morning the members of our party went ashore with pickaxes and
shovels, and they are now digging the foundations of our “cottage by the
sea.” They are also putting up a tent for our disabled commander, whence
he can superintend the erection of the structure. The men are working in
their undershirts and trousers, and it is quite warm enough for me to
stay on deck without a wrap, even when I am not exercising; yet, if we
had this temperature at home, we should consider it decidedly cool. I
have had oil-stoves taken ashore for the purpose of heating the tent in
case it becomes necessary.
[Illustration:
Our “Cottage by the Sea.”
]
Wednesday, July 29. The last three days have been busy ones for me,
being obliged to attend to all the packing and unpacking myself, besides
waiting on Mr. Peary. Monday, after dinner, the boys finished digging
the foundations. Mr. Peary was then strapped to a board, and four men
carried him from the “Kite” into a boat. After crossing the bay he was
carried up to the tent just back of where the house is being erected,
and placed on a rough couch. He is near enough to superintend the work,
and everything is progressing favorably.
Last night was a queer one for me. All the boys slept on board the
“Kite,” leaving me entirely alone with my crippled husband in the little
shelter-tent on the south shore of McCormick Bay. I had forgotten to
have my rifle brought ashore, and I could not help thinking what would
be the best thing for me to do in case an unwelcome visitor in the shape
of a bear should take it into his head to poke his nose into the tent.
While I was lying awake, imagining all sorts of things, I heard most
peculiar grunts and snorts coming from the direction of the beach, and
on looking out saw a school of white whale playing in the water just in
front of our tent. They seemed to be playing tag, chasing each other and
diving and splashing just like children in the water. I was surprised at
their graceful movements as they glided along, almost coming up on the
beach at times. The night passed uneventfully, but I decided to have
Matt sleep on shore to-night, should the others go on board the “Kite”
again. In case of a sudden wind-storm I could not steady the tent alone,
and some one ought to be within calling distance.
As the members of the returning party come to bid us good-by it makes me
feel very, very homesick; but a year will soon pass, and then we too
shall return home. The professor has kindly offered to see mama, and do
for her what he can in the way of keeping her posted.
Early Thursday morning, July 30, those of our party who had slept aboard
ship—that is, all except Mr. Peary, Matt, and myself—were aroused and
told they must “pull for the shore,” as the “Kite” was going to turn her
nose toward home. Not being accustomed to the duties of housekeeper and
nurse, I was so completely tired out that I slept soundly and knew
nothing of the cheers and farewell salutes which passed between the
little party who were to remain in the far North, and those on board the
“Kite,” who would bring our friends the only tidings of us until our
return in ’92. Mr. Peary remarked on the cheerfulness of our men. Less
than five minutes after the boat grated on the beach he heard the sound
of the hammer and the whistling of the boys.
Three or four hours after the “Kite” left McCormick Bay a furious wind
and rain storm swept down upon us from the cliffs back of our house. The
boys continued the work on the roof as long as possible, hoping to be
able to get the whole house under cover, but the fury of the storm was
such as to make it impossible for them to keep their foothold on the
rafters, and they were obliged to seek shelter under what there was of
the roof. At meal-time they all crowded in our little 7 × 10 canvas
tent, sitting on boxes and buckets, and holding their mess-pans in their
laps. These I supplied with baked beans, stewed corn, stewed tomatoes,
and corned beef, from the respective pots in which they had been
prepared. The rain dashed against the tent, and the wind rocked it to
and fro. Every little while one of the guy-ropes would snap with a sound
like the report of a pistol, and one of the boys would have to put his
dinner on the ground and go out into the storm and refasten it, for
these ropes were all that kept our little tent from collapsing. The meal
completed, the boys returned to the house, where they had more room,
even if they were not more comfortable.
I never shall forget this wretched night following the departure of the
“Kite.” The stream which rushed down the sides of the cliffs divided
just back of the tent, and one arm of it went round while the other came
through our little shelter. The water came with such force that in a few
moments it had made a furrow down the middle of the tent floor several
inches deep and nearly the entire width of the floor space, through
which it rushed and roared. All night long I was perched tailor-fashion
on some boxes, expecting every moment to see the tent torn from its
fastenings and the disabled man lying by my side exposed to the fury of
the storm. Our only comfort, and one for which we were duly thankful,
was that during this “night” of storm we had constant daylight; in other
words, it was just as light at two o’clock in the morning as it was at
two o’clock in the afternoon. When it was time for breakfast, I lighted
the oil-stove, which I had fished out of the water just as it was about
to float away, and made some coffee, and we breakfasted on coffee,
biscuit, and corned beef.
This state of affairs continued until the afternoon, when the storm
finally abated and the boys began work again on the roof. The water in
the tent subsided, and by putting pieces of plank down I could again
move about without sinking into the mud, and I at once set to work to
get the boys a square meal.
By Saturday morning our habitation was under cover, the stove put up
temporarily, with the stovepipe through one of the spaces left for a
window, and a fire made from the blocks and shavings that had escaped
the flood. The house was soon comparatively dry,—at least it did not
seem damp when compared with the interior of the tent,—and Mr. Peary was
carried in and placed on a bed composed of boxes of provisions covered
with blankets. Although we had no doors or windows in place, we felt
that it might rain and storm as much as it pleased, and it would not
interfere with finishing up the house and getting the meals, two very
important items for us just then.
Gradually our home began to have a finished appearance: the inside
sheathing was put on, and the doors and windows put in place. We had no
more violent wind-storms, but it rained every day for over a week. At
last, on August 8, there was no rain; and, as it was Matt’s birthday,
Mr. Peary told the boys after lunch to take their rifles and bring in a
deer. One of the rules of our Arctic home was that each member’s
birthday should be celebrated by such a dinner as he might choose from
our stock of provisions. Before going out Matt chose his menu, which I
was to prepare while the hunters were gone. The plum-duff, however, he
mixed himself, as he had taken lessons from the cook on board the
“Kite.” After every one had gone, Mr. Peary surprised me by saying he
intended to get up and come into the room where I was preparing the
dinner. Only the day before the doctor had taken his leg out of the box
and put it in splints, and he had been able for the first time since
July 11 to turn on his side. I tried to persuade him to lie still for
another day, but when I saw that he had set his heart on making the
effort, I bandaged up the limb and helped him to dress. Then I brought
him the crutches which Dr. Cook had made while we were still on board
the ship, and with their aid he came slowly into the other room. Here,
through the open door, he could watch the waves as they rose and fell on
the beach about one hundred yards distant, while I prepared the “feast.”
The bill of fare that Matt selected was as follows:
Mock-turtle soup.
Stew of little auk with green peas.
Broiled breasts of eider-duck.
Boston baked beans, corn, tomatoes.
Apricot pie, plum-duff with brandy sauce.
Sliced peaches.
Coffee.
With the soup I served a cocktail made by Mr. Peary after a recipe of
his own, and henceforth known by our little party as “Redcliffe House
cocktail”; with the stew, two bottles of “Liebfrauenmilch”; and with the
rest of the dinner, “Sauterne.” About five o’clock we heard the shouts
of the boys, and on going out I saw them coming down the cliffs heavily
laden with some bulky objects. I rushed in and reported the facts in the
case to Mr. Peary, who immediately said, “They are bringing in a deer.
Oh, I must get out!” So out he hobbled, and to the corner of the house,
where he had a good view of the returning hunters. As soon as he saw
them he said, “Get me my kodak. Quick!” and before the boys had
recovered from their surprise at seeing Mr. Peary, whom they had left
confined to his bed, standing on three legs at the corner of the house,
the first hunting-party sent out from Redcliffe had been immortalized by
the ever-present camera. The boys were jubilant over their success, and
brought back appetites that did justice to the dinner which was now
nearly ready. At six o’clock we all sat down at the rude table,
constructed by the boys out of the rough boards left from the house, and
just large enough to accommodate our party of seven. We had not yet had
time to make chairs, so boxes were substituted, and we managed very
nicely. We had no table-cloth, and all our dishes were of tin, yet a
merrier party never sat down to a table anywhere. Three days afterward
we repeated the feasting part of the day, with a variation in the bill
of fare, in honor of the third anniversary of our marriage, and this
time we sampled the venison, which we found so delicious that the boys
were more eager than ever to lay in a stock for the winter.
The next day, August 12, Mr. Peary sent all the boys, except Matt, in
one of our whale-boats, the “Faith,” to search Herbert and
Northumberland Islands for an Eskimo settlement, and if possible to
induce a family to move over and settle down near Redcliffe House. The
man could show us the best hunting-grounds, and assist in bagging all
kinds of game, while the woman could attend to making our skin boots, or
kamiks, and keeping them in order. They were also instructed to visit
the loomeries, as the breeding places of the birds are called, and bring
back as many birds as possible.
During their absence Matt was at work on our protection wall of stone
and turf around Redcliffe, and Mr. Peary busied himself as best he could
in making observations for time, taking photographs, and pressing
flowers and other botanical specimens which I gathered for him. He even
ventured part of the way up the cliffs at the back of the house, but
this was slow and laborious work. The ground was so soft that his
crutches would sink into it sometimes as much as two feet. The weather
continued bright and balmy, and I did not feel the necessity of even a
light wrap while rambling over the hills. What I did long for was an
old-fashioned sunbonnet made of some bright-colored calico, and
stiffened with strips of pasteboard, for the sun was burning my face and
neck very badly. The boys returned at the end of a week, bringing with
them a native man named Ikwa; his wife, Mané; and two children, both
little girls—Anadore, aged two years and six months, and a baby of six
months, whom we called Noyah (short for Nowyahrtlik).