THE SLEDGE JOURNEY—(_Continued_)
From Tawanah’s Igloo to the Great Heilprin Glacier—The Little
Matterhorn—A Wet Night—Ptarmigan Island—“As the Crow flies” for the
Eastern Bastion of Herbert Island—A Nap in the Sunshine—Back at
Redcliffe—A Busy Week of Preparation for the Start on the Inland
Ice—Canine Rivals.
We unloaded our sledge, and, with Kudlah as our driver, continued the
exploration of Inglefield Gulf to its head. In spite of Kudlah’s having
spent the entire time at Tawanah’s in eating seal, we had scarcely
traveled a mile before he said he was hungry for American kapah. When
told it was not yet time, he turned his attention to the dogs again, but
soon we saw that the dogs were having a go-as-you-please time, and on
looking to the driver for the reason we found him sitting bolt-upright
and fast asleep. We woke him, and to keep him awake I gave him some
crackers to eat. They had the desired effect as long as they lasted, but
as soon as they had disappeared off he went to sleep again, and I came
to the conclusion that they acted more as a narcotic than a stimulant,
and discontinued them.
Just before reaching the head of this great gulf we came to a nunatak in
one of the numerous glaciers, shaped like the Swiss Matterhorn, and we
named it the Little Matterhorn. We were in an Alpine landscape, but the
more striking features of the European ice-covered mountains were here
brought out in increased intensity. Arrived at the head of the gulf, we
were confronted by one of the grandest glaciers that we had yet seen.
Never shall I forget my impressions, as, on this bracing April day, with
the thermometer from 30° to 35° below zero, Mr. Peary and I, shod with
snow-shoes, climbed over the deep-drifted snow to the summit of a black
rock, destined in a few years to be engulfed by the resistless flow of
the glacier, and from this elevated point looked out across the mighty
stream of ice to the opposite shore, so distant as to be indistinct,
even in the brilliant spring sunshine that was lighting all the scene.
Looking up the glacier, the vast ice river disappeared in the serene and
silent heights of the ice-cap. To think that this great white,
apparently lifeless, expanse, stretching almost beyond the reach of the
eye, is yet the embodiment of one of the mightiest forces of nature, a
force against which only the iron ribs of mother-earth herself can offer
resistance! As we stood there silent, a block of ice larger than many a
pretentious house, yet but an atom compared with the glacier itself,
pushed from its balance by the imperceptible but constant movement of
the glacier, fell with a crash from the glacier face, sending the echoes
flying along the ice-cliffs, crushing through the thick bay ice, and
bringing the dogs, far below us, to their feet with startled yelps.
The glacier, which forms much of the eastern wall of Inglefield Gulf,
has a frontage of about ten miles, and is the largest of the series of
giant glaciers in which are here concentrated the energies of the
ice-cap. North of it lie the Smithson Mountains, and farther beyond, a
vast congeries of ice-streams which circle westward and define the
northern head of the gulf. To the eastern sheet, upon whose bosom no
human being had ever stepped, and on whose beauty and grandeur no white
person had ever gazed, we gave the name of Heilprin Glacier, in honor of
Prof. Angelo Heilprin, of the Academy of Natural Sciences of
Philadelphia.
On the upward voyage to Greenland we had passed numbers of glaciers,
beginning with the great Frederikshaab ice-stream. I had seen the
distant gleaming of the Jakobshavn Glacier, and after passing Upernavik
we were never without a glacier in sight, and yet it was not until
September, when Mr. Peary was able to get out in the boat, and we went
to the head of McCormick Bay to see the inland ice-party off, that I
came in actual contact with one of these streams of ice. About eight
miles above Redcliffe, on the same side of the bay, there is a hanging
glacier, which has peered at us past the shore cliffs ever since we
entered McCormick Bay. This glacier is supported upon a great pile of
gravel, looking like a railway fill, which gives it the appearance of
being upon stilts. It was a peculiar experience to see the red-brown
rocks and cliffs glowing in the sun, and this great vertical wall of
blue ice standing out beyond them, with little streams of water
trickling down from it, and occasionally fragments of ice breaking away
and dashing down with a muffled, metallic sound; and more than this, to
find the ever-constant friend, the Arctic poppy, growing actually
beneath the overhanging walls of the glacier. The great glaciers, too,
that surround Tooktoo Valley, with its green meadows and glistening
lakes, will always remain with me an exquisite recollection.
Returning to our sledge, we made a direct line for our camp, which was
reached after an absence of ten hours.
Wearied with our journey, we immediately prepared to rest, and selected
a sheltered nook on the sea ice, where the snow was several inches deep,
and where we were protected from the light breeze which blows almost
constantly by a huge buttress of ice, part of the ice-foot. The memory
of the delightful sleep of the night before, when we lay right out in
the sunshine, helped me to hurry the sleeping-bags into place and crawl
into mine without losing much time.
Tawanah came to me and asked if I would not like to have my kamiks and
stockings put up on the rocks where the sun could shine on them and dry
out what little moisture they might contain, and I told him to take them
away. In what seemed to me only a few minutes, but what was actually
four hours, I was awakened by some one grasping both sides of my
sleeping-bag, evidently trying to stand it and its contents on end. The
words “Don’t roll over; try to stand up as quickly as you can; the tide
has risen above the ice,” rang in my ears. On looking about me I saw
that I had been lying in about six inches of water and peacefully
sleeping.
Fortunately I had a sealskin cover over my deerskin bag, and the water
had not penetrated it; therefore my deerskin knickerbockers and flannel
wrapper, which I always take off after I have pulled myself down in the
bag, fold and place under me, were perfectly dry. My poor husband did
not fare so well. He had folded his trousers, kamiks, and stockings and
placed them under his head as a pillow, and of course they were soaking
wet. Not having a cover to his sleeping-bag, the water had soaked
through, and it was this that had wakened him.
After a time we managed to dry out, and, continuing our journey, reached
our little island at midnight. As we approached the island numbers of
ptarmigan were seen flying about the rocks, a circumstance which
determined us to name the spot Ptarmigan Island. We secured a few of
these beautiful, snow-white birds, and, after taking observations for
position, proceeded on our course to Tawanah’s igloo, which we reached
shortly after four A. M.
While preparing the morning meal, I was the center of an admiring
circle. Men, women, and children formed a perfect ring about me. Never
had they seen such a stove, and never such cooking. They chattered
incessantly, and plied me with so many questions that I began to despair
of getting anything to eat. Finally I gave each a tin of coffee and some
crackers, and this kept them busy long enough for me to eat my meal, and
we then turned in.
We awoke about four o’clock in the afternoon, and at once began our
exploration of the surrounding cliffs and the neighboring glacier, which
Mr. Peary considered one of the first magnitude, and named, after the
distinguished secretary of the American Geographical Society, the
Hurlbut Glacier. It was nine o’clock before we were through with
exploring, photographing, and making observations, and then we made a
dash for the east end of Herbert Island.
Mr. Peary laid our course down the center of the gulf, and we were
beginning to calculate the time when we should reach Redcliffe, when
suddenly we encountered deep, soft snow, through which the dogs could
not pull the loaded sledge with any of us seated upon it. There was
nothing left for us but to get off and walk, or rather wade through the
snow. After a few hours of this tiring work the dogs refused to go
farther, and it was only with special coaxing and driving that any
progress was made. When at last we reached Herbert Island we were almost
as glad as the dogs to be able to rest. Redcliffe was still fifteen
miles distant.
Mr. Peary and I spread our sleeping-bags down on the snow out in the
brilliant sunshine, and lay down on them for a nap. We had not been
asleep long when I awoke and found that Mr. Peary had arisen and was
walking rapidly in the direction of the ice-foot. He was following an
Eskimo who had shouldered a rifle, and my first impression was that the
native had taken one of our own rifles from the sledge and was making
off with it.
[Illustration:
AN APRIL JOURNEY.
]
At Kyo’s call the retreating figure stopped short and turned back. He
came directly to us, and we recognized him as Tahtara, the man at whose
snow-igloo I had spent such a memorable night. He had been at Redcliffe,
and was now out on a seal-hunt, with a companion, named Kulutingwah, who
presently came dashing round with two fine-looking dogs and one of our
sledges.
These dogs were the most affectionate Eskimo dogs we had yet seen, and
by far the prettiest. They were large, powerful-looking animals, that
dragged the sledge with three natives upon it through the soft snow as
easily as if they had no load at all. They were the first dogs we had
seen who were trained to obey their master’s words without the aid of
the whip. When Kulutingwah left his sledge-team he did not have to turn
the sledge over and stick the upstanders into the snow to keep the dogs
from running away, but simply told them to stay there, and with a low,
deep growl they would stretch themselves upon the snow and remain
perfectly quiet until his return, in spite of the tempting pieces of
seal meat which might be lying around in their vicinity.
After restowing our sledges we started homeward. Our dogs, like horses
at home, seemed to smell the stable, and broke into a brisk trot, which
they kept up until we reached Redcliffe, at nine in the evening, Sunday,
April 24.
Dr. Cook, who had been left in charge, had done good work during our
absence of a week. Quite a number of natives from Netchiolumy, Keati,
and the snow village had arrived, and among them an unusual number of
lady visitors, all willing to sew for the “Americans” for the small
consideration of a couple of needles. The doctor had set them to work on
kamiks, fur mittens, fur stockings, and fur trousers, and they had
worked like beavers all the week, while the men had put in their time
hunting, and a goodly number of seals were added to the store of
dog-meat.
[Illustration:
Musical Dogs.
]
We were now in possession of twenty-two good dogs, the pick of all the
dogs in the tribe, and Mr. Peary felt that the success of his long
sledge journey was assured. Every pack of Eskimo dogs has its leader. If
a new dog is added to the pack a fight takes place at once between him
and the leader to determine his position in the team. Now, up to this
time a great white shaggy brute, from Cape York, whom we called Lion, on
account of his gray mane, had been the canine king of Redcliffe. With
the arrival of Kulutingwah’s fine dogs there came a change. Lion and his
first lieutenant, a dog marked very much like himself, at once charged
upon the new-comers, evidently expecting to thrash them into subjection
as easily as had been done in the case of the other dogs, but he, for
once, was doomed to disappointment; although the fight raged fierce and
long, poor Lion was vanquished, and forced to resign his position as
king in favor of the larger of the new-comers, whom we called “Naleyah”
(chief).