BOAT JOURNEYS AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER
Return to Head of McCormick Bay for Deer—Footprints on the
Shore—Successful Deer Hunt—Meeting with the Returning Inland Ice
Party—Astrup and Gibson Make a Second Attempt on the
Ice-cap—Attempted Boat Trip up Whale Sound—Stopped by the New
Ice—Exciting Battle with Walrus—Dr. Cook and Matt Tramp to
Nowdingyah’s—Last of the Boat Trips—Setting up the Stove—My
Experience with a Snow-slide—Final Return of the Inland Ice
Party—Preparing Redcliffe for Winter.
We were all pretty tired the next day, and Mr. Peary decided to wait
another day or two before starting on a second hunting-expedition to the
head of the bay. It was Thursday morning, September 10, when we nailed
up our doors and, out of regard for “social custom,” tacked a card on
the front door, which read: “Have gone to Tooktoo Valley for two or
three days’ hunt. Visitors will please leave their cards,” and then
headed our boat eastward.
In order to avail ourselves of the breeze, we were obliged to cross the
bay and then tack. When about half-way it was decided to run ashore and
prepare lunch. As soon as the keel of the boat grated on the sand, Ikwa
jumped out to make the bow-line fast, but he had hardly touched the
ground before he gave utterance to a cry of surprise, and pointed to
footprints in the sand. In a moment we were all excitement. The
footprints were those of two persons walking in the direction of
Redcliffe. What a peculiar sensation it is to find signs of human beings
in a place where you believe yourself and party to be the only
inhabitants! After examining them carefully, Ikwa said Gibson and
Verhoeff had passed down the beach that morning. This worried Mr. Peary,
for the supposition was that something must have happened to one of the
party, and the other two were bringing him to Redcliffe. He was
reassured, however, in a few minutes; for on following the footprints a
little distance, I found the prints of all three of the boys, and we
knew that the inland ice-party had returned. Knowing that they would
make themselves comfortable at the house, Mr. Peary decided to keep on
to the hunting-grounds, which we reached in the early afternoon. During
our three days’ stay in this lovely valley, Matt and Ikwa bagged nine
deer; I myself went hunting once or twice, but without success. Most of
my time was devoted to taking photographs of the glaciers in the
vicinity, and keeping camp. The sand along the shore was too deep and
the hills were too steep for Mr. Peary to take long walks in any
direction, and he was glad to have company in camp.
On Monday we loaded our boat with the trophies of the chase, and sailed
for home. When within three and a half miles of the house, we saw Astrup
and Verhoeff coming up the beach, and we immediately hailed them, and
pulled for the shore. They got into the boat, and during our sail home
Astrup told of the continued storm on the ice-cap; how the deep snow had
prevented their making more than one or one and a half miles per day;
that Verhoeff had frozen his face, and that they had then decided to
return to Redcliffe, report the condition of the traveling, and see if
Mr. Peary wished them to keep on. After reaching Redcliffe, Mr. Peary
gave the inland ice-party a few days’ rest, and then sent them in the
“Faith,” our largest whale-boat, back to the head of McCormick Bay to
bring home their equipment and place all the provisions in a cache which
would be easily accessible. Gibson and Verhoeff were to put in two or
three days hunting deer, while Astrup was to make a careful examination
of the cliffs and glaciers to ascertain the most practicable route to
the ice-cap with dogs and sledges. They returned in four days, and we
immediately began work changing the equipment to make it suitable for
two persons instead of three, and dried out the sleeping-bags
thoroughly. Three days afterward, September 22, Astrup and Gibson again
set out for the inland ice.
[Illustration:
Walrus on Ice-cake.—Off Herbert Island.
]
Wednesday, September 23. This morning at 9.30 Mr. Peary, Matt, Dr. Cook,
Ikwa, and myself started in the “Mary Peary” for a trip up Inglefield
Gulf. There was not a breath of air stirring, and the boys had to row
from the start. Before we had gone a mile, several burgomasters flew
over our heads, and we next came upon a flock of eiders, but did not get
within gunshot. When just off Cape Cleveland, we caught sight of several
walrus in the middle of the bay, and made for them. A number of shots
were fired, and some of the animals were wounded; but as Ikwa said we
should be sure to find “amis-su-ar” (plenty) “awick” in the gulf, we did
not wait for them to come again to the surface. After a two hours’ rest
we proceeded up the gulf, but were stopped by the heavy new ice, which
we could almost see forming in our wake. It being certain that we could
not make further progress by the boat, Mr. Peary decided to have a
walrus-hunt for the purpose of obtaining ivory. We could see the walrus
in every direction, and headed the boat for a cake of ice with about
fifteen of the creatures asleep on it. The boys were told to pull for
all they were worth until the order was given to stop. Mr. Peary then
took his camera, and he became so absorbed in getting his photo just
right that he forgot to give the order to stop until the boat was so
near the cake of ice that before anything could be done she ran on it at
least four feet, throwing her bow straight up into the air. The walrus,
jumping into the water from under her, careened the boat to port until
she shipped water, throwing Matt flat on his back; then with a jerk
(which proved to come from an animal Ikwa had harpooned) she was
righted, and we were skimming over the water, through the new ice, towed
by the harpooned walrus. This performance lasted at least twenty
minutes, during which time the boys kept up a constant volley at the
walrus that besieged us on every side to revenge their wounded
companions. There were at least two hundred and fifty around us at one
time, and it seemed as if it would be impossible to keep the animals
from attacking us; but by steady firing we managed to hold them at oar’s
length. This kept me busy reloading the rifles. I thought it about an
even chance whether I would be shot or drowned.
I cannot describe my feelings when these monsters surrounded us, their
great tusks almost touching the boat, and the bullets whistling about my
ears in every direction. Whenever a volley of shots greeted them, the
whole bunch jumped into the air and then plunged under water, leaving us
in doubt as to where they would reappear. If they should happen to come
up under the boat, we should probably be the ones to take the plunge;
this uncertainty was very exciting, especially as the brutes went down
and came up in bunches, leaving us seventy-five or a hundred to fight
while the rest plunged.
Ikwa had evidently never seen so many “awick” at one time, and became
very much frightened, finally pounding the sides of the boat with his
harpoon and yelling at the top of his voice, in which he was joined by
Matt. When we finally got out of the turmoil we had four heads with
tusks, and would have had more, but the bodies sank before we could
secure them. As we could not proceed up the gulf in the boat, we camped
about three miles southeast of Cape Cleveland. The boat was pulled up on
a bit of sandy beach, and with the aid of the boat-hooks and a couple of
tarpaulins we fixed up a very comfortable boat-tent.
Thursday, September 24. It was decided last night that Matt and Dr. Cook
should set out on foot for “Nowdingyah’s,” an Eskimo camp of which we
had been in search; so we had coffee early, and by eight o’clock the
boys started off with their rifles and some pemmican.[2] About ten
o’clock the boys came in woefully tired, vowing that they had walked
forty miles, and reported finding Nowdingyah’s camp, but all four igloos
were deserted. Ikwa said that their owners were “pehter-ang-ito” (far
away) hunting; these northern Eskimos are in the habit of leaving their
settlements, to which they periodically return.
Footnote 2:
It may be of interest to my readers to know just what pemmican is. The
best lean beef is cut in strips and dried until it can be pulverized,
then it is mixed with an equal quantity of beef suet. To this mixture
are added sugar and currants to suit the taste, and the whole is
heated through until the suet has melted and mixed with the other
ingredients, when it is poured into cans and hermetically sealed. It
is only a modification of the old-fashioned way of preserving meat
when whole families drove out on the prairies and hunted buffalo. As
soon as shot the buffalo was skinned and the green skin sewed into a
bag, into which the meat, after it had been sun-dried and mixed with
the suet, was packed. As the skin dried and shrunk, it compressed the
meat, which in this way was preserved indefinitely. Pemmican is not at
all unpleasant to the taste, especially if eaten with cranberry jam.
Friday, September 25. Just before we left camp at eleven o’clock, an
amusing incident occurred. Ikwa, who had been skirmishing for the past
hour, returned in a jubilant frame of mind, and announced his discovery
of a cached seal. He asked Mr. Peary if he might bring the seal to
Redcliffe in the boat, saying it was the finest kind of eating for
himself and family. We could not understand why this particular seal
should be so much nicer than those he had at Redcliffe; but as he seemed
very eager to have it, we gave him the desired permission, and off he
started, saying that he would be back very soon. About half an hour
later the air became filled with the most horrible stench it has ever
been my misfortune to endure, and it grew worse and worse until at last
we were forced to make an investigation. Going to the corner of the
cliff, we came upon the Eskimo carrying upon his back an immense seal,
which had every appearance of having been buried at least two years.
Great fat maggots dropped from it at every step that Ikwa made, and the
odor was really terrible. Mr. Peary told him that it was out of the
question to put that thing in the boat; and, indeed, it was doubtful if
we would not be obliged to hang the man himself overboard in order to
disinfect and purify him. But this child of nature did not see the
point, and was very angry at being obliged to leave his treasure. After
he was through pouting, he told us that the more decayed the seal the
finer the eating, and he could not understand why we should object. He
thought the odor “pe-uh-di-och-soah” (very good).
At noon we passed Cape Cleveland, homeward bound, and an hour later
reached Redcliffe. The house seemed very cold and chilly after the
bright sunshine. Verhoeff, who had been left in charge, greeted us, and
we soon had all the oil-stoves going, bread baking, rice cooking, beans
heating, venison broiling, and coffee dripping, and at two o’clock all
sat down to dinner and then turned in.
Tuesday, September 29. The last three days have been spent in
hunting-explorations on the north shore and in preparations for the
winter. The stove has been put up, the windows doubled, and the house
made generally air-tight. We find the ice in the bay becoming firmer day
by day, and in one of our expeditions we found it all but impossible to
force the boat through it. Mr. Peary has now left off his splints and
bandages, and has even laid aside his crutches. After lunch to-day I
started out with a couple of fox-traps, and put them in the gorge about
a mile back of the house. The day was fine, and I enjoyed my walk,
although I came in for an unpleasant scare. After leaving the traps, I
thought I would go over the mountains into the valley beyond, and see if
I could find deer. Half-way up, about a thousand feet above sea-level,
the snow began to slide under me, taking the shales of sandstone along
with it, and of course I went too, down, down, trying to stop myself by
digging my heels into the snow and attempting to grasp the stones as
they flew by; but I kept on, and a cliff about two hundred feet from the
bottom, over which I would surely be hurled if I did not succeed in
stopping myself, was the only thing which I could see that could arrest
my progress. At last I stopped about half-way down. What saved me I do
not know. At first I was afraid to move for fear I should begin sliding
again; but as I grew more courageous I looked about me, and finally on
hands and knees I succeeded in getting on firm ground. I did not
continue my climb, but returned to the house in a roundabout way.
Mr. Peary had the fire started in the big stove, and finds that it works
admirably. The trouble will be to keep the fire low enough. Ikwa
indulged in a regular war-dance at the sight of the blaze, never before
having seen so much fire, and for the first few moments kept putting his
fingers on the stove to see how warm it was. He soon found it too hot.
He has been getting his sledge, dog-harness, spears, etc., in readiness
for the winter’s hunt after seal.
Wednesday, September 30. Toward noon Matt came running in shouting,
“Here are the boys, sir!” and sure enough Astrup and Gibson were here,
bringing nothing but their snow-shoes with them. They were on the ice
just a week, and estimate the distance traveled inland at thirty miles,
and the greatest elevation reached at 4600 feet. They returned because
it was too cold and the snow too deep for traveling. At the same time,
they admit that they were not cold while on the march, and they do not
think the temperature was more than 10° below zero; but as Gibson
stepped on and broke the thermometer on the third day, up to which time
the lowest had been –2°, they had no way of telling for certain.
Gibson’s feet were blistered, he having forgotten to put excelsior or
grass in his kamiks. He believes that with the moral support of a large
party they can easily make from ten to fifteen miles per day.
Thursday, October 1. The day has been fine; the house is gradually
assuming a cozy as well as comfortable appearance under Mr. Peary’s
supervision. He is about from morning until night, limping a great deal,
but he has put aside his crutches for good. At night his foot and leg
are swollen very much, but after the night’s rest look better, although
far from normal. Ikwa went out on the ice to-day for some distance to
test its strength. I took my daily walk to the fox-traps, and as usual
found no foxes had been near them.
Sunday, October 4. Nothing of any consequence has taken place since the
return of the explorers. The boys have been at work on the house,
hanging blankets, putting up shelves, etc. Friday I found one of my
traps sprung, and a great many tracks around it, but no fox. On Saturday
we went down to the point one quarter of a mile below the house, Mr.
Peary walking without cane or crutch, and set a fox-trap on the rocks
near some tracks. All this time the weather has been perfect. To-day Dr.
Cook tried going out on the ice, but it did not hold him. The bunks of
the boys have been placed against the east side of the large room and
separate curtains furnished. The winter routine of four-hourly watches
throughout the twenty-four hours was begun to-day, the boys taking them
in turn.
Monday, October 5. It has been cloudy all day long, but with a
temperature of about 12°. It still seems warm, as there is no wind
whatever. I went to my fox-traps this forenoon, and found the view from
the heights very fine. The clouds hung low, and gave a soft gray
background for the blue bergs which gleamed on every side of a long
black strip of water—the open sea—in the far distance. The light that
fell on Northumberland Island decked it in a bright yellow, while the
cliffs across the bay were black in the dark shadow.
The boys brought the “Mary Peary” up and turned her over, supporting her
on pillars built of blocks of ice. Here Mr. Peary intends to put such
provisions as we may need for our boat journey home next summer,
covering the whole thing with snow. The “Faith” has been turned over
against the front wall, and a place fixed under her for the Newfoundland
dogs, Jack and Frank. As soon as we have enough snow the house, too,
will be banked in with it.
[Illustration]