WEARY DAYS OF WAITING
Anxious Fears for the Inland Ice-party—A “Red-Letter” Day—Return of
the Supporting-party with Good News—First Flowers—Job’s Comforters
among the Huskies—An Attack of Homesickness—The Snow disappearing—My
Confidante, the Brook—The Eider-ducks return—I stand my Watch with
the Others—Matt crippled by a Frosted Heel—We are reduced to a Seal
Diet—A July Snow-storm—Influx of Natives—Open Water reaches
Redcliffe—Matt overhears a Native Plot to kill us.
Monday, May 30. We had a great excitement about 8.30 this evening. A
black spot was seen out in the sound beyond an iceberg, over two miles
away. With the aid of the glass we could see it was moving in our
direction, and we thought it was Annowkah coming back from the other
bay. Kyo, who was watching constantly, all at once became very much
excited, declaring it was not an Innuit, and he could not tell what it
was. Then, suddenly throwing down the glass, his eyes almost starting
from his head, he exclaimed, “Nahnook, nahnook, boo mut toy-hoy, car,
car, toy-hoy” (a bear! a bear!—the rifle, quick, hurry, hurry, quick).
Matt and I rushed into the house for our rifles and ammunition, but by
the time we came out the object was behind the berg, lost to view. It
soon reappeared, however, and we then saw that it was a dog. Kyo, who
had been watching it closely, immediately recognized it as one of Mr.
Peary’s pack, and said that it was in a starving condition. The poor
animal was hardly able to get along, and had evidently had nothing to
eat for a week or ten days. He is very weak, especially in his hind
legs, and he has a cut from his left eye down to his mouth. The dog is
the one which we had designated the “devil dog,” and was in charge of
the supporting-party. Can it be that the supporting-party has met with
mishap, or are they returning by way of Smith Sound? The incident brings
up unpleasant forebodings, but I am utterly powerless in my position.
[Illustration:
FRAGMENTS FROM THE HEILPRIN GLACIER—HEAD OF INGLEFIELD GULF.
]
Thursday, June 2. Three more days of increasing suspense, and still no
news. It is now twenty-seven days since Gibson left us to rejoin the
party, and at that time Mr. Peary wrote, “We go over the ice-cap
to-night,” and he thought that the supporting-party would be back in ten
days, or at most in two weeks. Spring is now rapidly coming to us, and
the mercury, in the sun, has risen well into the seventies.
Friday, June 3. My nightmare is over; the boys have returned, and they
bring good news of my husband. I cannot describe how I felt when the
doctor, on shaking hands with me, told me he had left Mr. Peary and
Astrup both in good health and spirits, and doing good traveling. Both
boys look exceedingly well, although their faces, and noses
particularly, are much burned and blistered by the sun and wind, and
Gibson complains of his eyes. I got them something hot to drink, made
them chocolate, and then retired to my room to read my letter. Gibson
weighs 173¼ pounds net, against 176¼ when he left; the doctor weighs 153
pounds net, as against 146¼.
[Illustration:
A Corner of my Room.
]
Saturday, June 11. The past week has been almost entirely without
incident. Dr. Cook has assumed command of our establishment, and I am
therefore free of responsibility beyond that of taking care of myself.
My thoughts wander constantly to the members of the inland ice-party,
and I often wonder if they will return in time for us to go south still
this summer. The doctor and Gibson do not expect them before the 1st of
September, while our Eskimo friends cheerfully assure us that they will
never return. My instinct revolts against this judgment, but it makes an
impression upon me, nevertheless. To-day I walked over to the
Quarter-Mile Valley, and sat by the stream which there rushes down from
the cliffs and tumbles over the icy hummocks, cutting its way through
the snow that fills its bed and over the ice-foot into the bay. The
little snow-buntings were chirping and flitting about me, and great
patches of purple flowers, the first of which I observed just one week
ago, were to be seen wherever the snow had melted sufficiently for them
to peep through; these were the earliest flowers of the season. I sat
here and indulged in a fit of homesickness. Never in my life have I felt
so utterly alone and forsaken, with no possible chance of knowing how
and where my dear ones are. It surely must end some time.
Sunday, June 12. The snow is disappearing rapidly, and just as soon as a
patch of ground is laid bare it is covered with flowers, usually the
purple ones, although I have seen a few tiny white and yellow ones as
well. The west wall of our entrance is covered with green shoots. The
doctor and Gibson are preparing for a ten days’ hunting-trip up the bay,
and they have made up the following list of provisions and accessories:
140 crackers (seven per man per day), 10 pounds sugar, 4 pounds meal, 8
pounds hominy, 5 cans milk, 1 three-pound can of tongue, 2 cans corned
beef, 3 cans tomatoes, 3 cans corn, 2 cans soup, 4 cakes pea-soup, 4
pounds bacon, 1 package cornstarch, 1 can Mosqueros food, flavoring
extract, salt, 4 pounds coffee, ½ pound of tea, 15 pounds dog-meat for
two dogs, 2 cans alcohol, 2 alcohol-stoves, 2 boxes wind-matches and 1
box blueheads, 1 box of cartridges, and a number of shells. They expect
to leave this evening. The condition of Matt’s frozen heel has been
steadily growing worse, and, poor fellow! he is beginning to suffer
acutely. He is threatened with a chronic running sore.
There is only one thing now left to me which gives me any pleasure, and
that is to go to the little brook in the Quarter-Mile Valley and listen
to its music while I give my thoughts full play. I close my eyes, and
once more I am in our little tent, listening to this same music, mingled
with the sound of the “Kite’s” whistle and the splash of the white
whales as they frisked back and forth in the water close to the shore.
This was when we first landed, and before the house was ready for us.
Wednesday, June 15. The last of winter is leaving us. The water is
rushing and gurgling on all sides, and the brown cliffs back of the
house, as well as the red cliffs to the right, are almost entirely bared
of the snowy mantle which has so long covered them. Eider-ducks are
passing us daily, and in their wake come other birds from the balmy
south.
My routine tramps have been largely interfered with by the character of
the walking, which has become very bad, snow, slush, and water
alternating in layers. Into this one plunges thigh-deep without warning,
and it requires considerable maneuvering to extricate one’s self without
becoming saturated with ice-cold water. The tide comes in beyond the
ice-foot, and Verhoeff almost swims to the tide-gage, which is now five
inches higher out of the ice. I have been for some time past taking my
watch regularly with the boys, and naturally it interferes somewhat with
the fulness of my night’s rest. At present the night is divided into
three watches, of which I take the first, Verhoeff the second, and Matt
the morning watch.
Wednesday, June 22. Another week has passed, and by this much my husband
is nearer to his return. Our routine continues unchanged, except in
unimportant details, and the monotony of our life, together with certain
vexations which necessarily arise, makes me at times cross and
despondent. Our Eskimos have been taking advantage of the open leads and
the return of animals to go out on various hunting-expeditions, and they
report more or less success with walrus, white whale, and narwhal. I am
longing for venison, as we have been largely reduced to a seal diet, and
seal is all but nauseating to me. Deer seem to be very difficult to get
at just at present, and Dr. Cook, who returned early Sunday morning from
his hunt at the head of the bay, brought none with him—indeed, no meat
of any kind.
The first rain of the season took place last Thursday night, and it has
been raining again lightly this evening. Yesterday I took a walk along
the base of the trap-dyke. The snow has disappeared from the plateau,
and the air is fragrant with the spring flowers and mosses, which fairly
cover the ground. Numberless snow-birds are flitting about, chirping to
each other, and the rushing of the brooklets is heard constantly. All
the flowers have returned and all the birds are here again, and they
will stay with us until the middle of September, when I hope that we,
too, shall return south. Altogether the scene reminded me of the time
when Mr. Peary and I came up here last fall, and I gathered flowers
while he pressed them.
Tuesday, June 28. What a horrible day it has been! The wind blows so
hard that it is almost impossible for me to stand up against it. The
rain dashes against the window until it seems as though it would break
it in. At times the rain changes to snow, while on the cliffs it has
been snowing constantly. They are as white as they have been any time
this winter. Icebergs have been groaning and toppling over all day, and
in the fury of the storm, just after midnight, the tide-gage fell over.
My constant thought is of the advance party. God help them if they are
caught in such a storm on ice that is not suitable for building igloos.
As the days wear on I feel as if the chances were almost even as to
whether I shall ever see my husband again. I can do nothing, not even
keep still. Perhaps it is a good thing that I am obliged to do the work
about the house.
Our boys have been improving the time by gathering up collections of
various kinds, and the doctor has been especially busy trading for any
and every thing in the way of native clothing, implements, and toys, for
all of which he gives pieces of boards, barrel-staves, boxes, and other
odds and ends in the lumber line, all worthless to us, but invaluable to
the poor Eskimos. Wood is to them their most precious article, for
without it they could neither have boats nor sledges, nor would they be
able to fashion those perfect instruments of the chase, the harpoon and
spear, which they handle with unsurpassed dexterity. Yet wood is also
their scarcest article, and is obtained only from wreckage or through
occasional barter with whalers passing near Cape York. A cargo of lumber
would procure anything from the natives—indeed, almost their entire
possessions.
Friday, July 1. To-day we narrowly escaped a bad accident. The doctor
accidentally discharged a gun in the big room, where Gibson, Verhoeff,
and Tooky were sitting. Fortunately no one was hurt, the charge going
through the roof, making quite a hole, and badly frightening Matt, who
was lying there. Matt’s foot is improving somewhat, and probably in a
few days his condition will be such that he will be able to get about.
This prospect is gratifying to me, as I have determined to go to the
head of the bay in about three weeks, there to await Mr. Peary’s return,
and I wish to have Matt for my companion.
Monday, July 4. This evening I was treated to a native vegetable dish.
Returning from a walk to Cape Cleveland, I met Mané and her children
coming to meet me. She told me they eat the little purple flowers which
bloom so abundantly almost everywhere in this vicinity, and asked me to
try them. I found that they were quite as sweet as our clover blossoms,
and they have, besides, a very aromatic flavor. Mané had brought two of
our tin mess-pans with her, and we filled them with blossoms and
sour-grass. On reaching Redcliffe Mané mixed the flowers and sour-grass,
then, pouring a little water on them, put them on the stove. I suggested
that she wash them so as to remove at least some of the sand, at which
she laughed, saying that sand was good for the stomach; nevertheless,
she made a show of washing them, and then let them boil for about
fifteen minutes. The flavor was a peculiarly pleasant one, but I thought
it a little sour, and added some sugar, which gave it something of the
taste of rhubarb-plant stewed, only more aromatic.
This concoction is the only vegetable dish that these people ever have,
and this is only eaten by the women and children, not by the men. On the
other hand, the men eat the eggs of the different birds, but will not
allow the women to touch them. It was amusing to see both Mané and
M’gipsu eat cake containing eggs, begging us not to tell their husbands,
and consoling themselves with the reflection that eggs did not form the
chief part of the cake.
Wednesday, July 6. Another sunshiny day. Yesterday morning two Eskimo
boys came in, and reported that a whole troop of natives were at Ittiblu
on their way over from Netchiolumy. They are compelled to go up the gulf
this far in order to cross on the ice above the open water.
The open water has now nearly reached Redcliffe, and is full of birds.
About five o’clock this morning fourteen natives arrived, among whom are
Mekhtoshay (the one-eyed man) and his wife and boy, and Ingyahpahdu and
his six children. The one-eyed man brought his tent with him, a very
small one, but the others are camping with their neighbors—a privilege
which is generally permitted in traveling. We have taken advantage of
these numerous arrivals to continue our series of ethnological
photographs, and the doctor has been kept busy posing, grouping, etc.
Our settlement now numbers thirty-four natives, men, women, and
children.
Gibson has started off on a ten days’ collecting-tour to the head of the
bay. He will leave the tent in Tooktoo Valley for me, and I shall go as
soon as he returns, taking provisions enough to last till August 6th. If
Mr. Peary has not returned by that time then I shall come back to the
house and get everything ready for our homeward journey in the early
autumn.
Thursday, July 7. I determined to take advantage of the fine weather we
are having and get rid of some washing to-day. I also put Noyah, Mané’s
little one, in the tub and gave her a good scrubbing. She actually
looked quite cute, and after getting over her surprise at being plunged
into the water, enjoyed it, laughing and splashing. It seems odd to see
the children so backward. This child, who is already two years old, has
just begun to stand alone, and in all other respects she is like a child
at home of ten months or a year. M’gipsu’s baby is a year old, but in
size and mental development compares with a five-months-old white baby.
To-night we finished taking the photographs and measurements of the
Eskimos.
Sunday, July 10. The day has been bright, warm, and sunny. At eight
o’clock this morning the thermometer in the sun registered 92° and still
it would be called a cool, pleasant day at home. The doctor tore down
the shed back of my room in order to give the sun a chance to melt the
ice and dry the things under it.
Ikwa killed an “oogzook” this morning while out in his kayak. It took
three men all day to bring in the skin and part of the carcass. Ikwa
says he has to divide the skin among all the men in the settlement, even
Kyoshu the cripple coming in for a share. It is the rule that every
animal killed, larger than a seal, must be divided among all the men in
the community, regardless of their share in the securing of it.
Monday, July 11. When I awoke this morning I heard Matt and the doctor
talking very earnestly, but could not hear what they were saying; from
their tone I judged it was something serious. Finally I called to the
doctor and asked him what the trouble was. He told me that Matt had
overheard Kyo and Kulutingwah planning to make away with one of us. I
could not help laughing at this recital, which provoked the doctor a
little; we had laughed at similar stories related by Arctic explorers,
and had agreed that these natives were not at all inclined to be warlike
or vindictive. I tried to reason with the boys. In the first place, if
the natives had any such design, would they not have kept the three men
here who left for Karnah yesterday? Secondly, would they be likely to
come over to our house and discuss their plans? And thirdly, do any of
us know enough of their language to understand a conversation in which
the participants are not even to be seen? The whole thing seemed very
amusing to me, but both boys were evidently frightened, and wanted to be
armed and ready for any emergency; consequently, I gave the doctor Mr.
Peary’s pistol to carry and Matt my large one, and they have worn them
all day. Matt imagined he knew the cause of the whole thing, namely, Kyo
was mad because I had stopped his coffee and bread in the morning; he
had blamed Matt for it, and so Matt felt certain he was to be the
victim. The fact is, however, that Kyo got his coffee as usual this
morning. I had intended to stop it, but as Mané was sick and did not
care for her share, there was enough to go round. The doctor, more than
any one else, has reason to fear Kyo, as Kyo makes no secret of his
dislike for him.
[Illustration:
A FRIENDLY “TUPIC” AND ITS INHABITANTS.
(Looking out of McCormick Bay.)
]
One year ago to-night was the most miserable night I had ever spent. Mr.
Peary had broken his leg, and for a few hours I did not know whether he
would ever be able to use it again; to-night I do not even know that he
is alive. I feel very certain, however, that a month will solve this
question for me, and so am determined not to worry any more.
[Illustration]