of ice and cold, about which, like a golden-crowned sentinel, with face
of flame, the circling midnight sun kept guard. Upon this desolate,
awe-inspiring stage--unchanged since the days of its designing--I saw
myself attempting to win in the most spectacular and difficult marathon
for the testing of human strength, courage and perseverance, of body and
brain, which God has offered to man. I could see myself, in my fancy
pictures, invading those roaring regions, struggling over icy lands in
the dismal twilight of the Arctic morning, and venturing, with a few
companions, upon the lifeless, wind-swept Polar sea. A black mite, I saw
myself slowly piercing those white and terrible spaces, braving terrific
storms, assailing green, adamantine barriers of ice, crossing the
swift-flowing, black rivers of those ice fields, and stoutly persisting
until, successful, I stood alone, a victor, upon the world's pinnacle!
This thought gave me wild joy. That I, one white man, might alone
succeed in this quest gave me an impetus which only single-handed effort
and the prospect of single-handed success can give. There was pleasure
in the thought that, in this effort, I was indebted to no one; no one
had expended money for me or my trip; no white men were to risk their
lives with me. Whether it resulted in success or defeat, I alone should
exult or I alone should suffer. I was the mascot of no clique of
friends, nor the pawn of scientists who might find a suppositious and
mythical glory in the reflected light of another's achievement. The
quest was personal; the pleasure of success must be personal.
Yet, I want you to understand this thing was no casual jaunt with me.
All my life hinged about it, my hopes were bent upon it; the doing of it
was part of me. My plans of action were not haphazard and hair-brained.
Logically and clearly, I mapped out a campaign. It was based upon
experience in known conditions, experience gathered after years of
discouragement and failure.
At Annoatok we erected a house of packing boxes.[6] The building of the
house, which was to be both storehouse and workshop, was a simple
matter. The walls were made of the packing boxes, especially selected of
uniform size for this purpose.
[Illustration: ON THE CHASE FOR BEAR
THE BOX-HOUSE AT ANNOATOK AND ITS WINTER ENVIRONMENT]
[Illustration: MAN'S PREY OF THE ARCTIC SEA--WALRUS ASLEEP]
Enclosing a space thirteen by sixteen feet, the cases were quickly piled
up. The walls were held together by strips of wood, the joints sealed
with pasted paper, with the addition of a few long boards. A really good
roof was made by using the covers of the boxes as shingles. A blanket of
turf over this confined the heat and permitted, at the same time,
healthful circulation of air.
We slept under our own roof at the end of the first day. Our new house
had the great advantage of containing within it all our possessions
within easy reach at all times. When anything was needed in the way of
supplies, all we had to do was to open a box in the wall.
The house completed, we immediately began the work of building sledges,
and the equally important work, at which a large proportion of the
Eskimos were at once set, of making up furs into clothing. According to
my plans, each one of us embarking in the Polar journey would have to
carry two suits of fur clothing. In the Arctic regions, especially when
men are marching to the limit of their strength every day, the bodily
heat puts the clothing into such condition that the only safe way, if
health is to be preserved, is to change suits frequently, while the
perspiration-soaked furs are laid out to dry.
The Eskimos had also to prepare for winter. Tents of sealskin are
inhabitable only in the summer time. For the coming period of darkness
and bitter cold, they made igloos of stone and snow.
Meanwhile, they were not in the least averse to agreeable relaxation. I
had with me a good supply of tea, and was in the habit of drinking a cup
of it with Francke about four o'clock every afternoon. Observing this,
the Eskimos at once began to present themselves at the tea hour.
Fortunately, tea was one of the supplies of which I had brought a good
deal for the sake of pleasing the natives, and it was not long before I
had a very large and gossipy afternoon tea party every day, in this
northernmost human settlement of the globe.
I planned to superintend every detail of progress, as far as it
concerned our journey. I could watch the men, too, and see which ones
promised to be the best to accompany me. And, what was a most important
point, I could also perfect my final plans for the advance right at my
final base.
I aimed to reach the top of the globe in the angle between Alaska and
Greenland, a promising route through a new and lonesome region which had
not been tried, abandoning what has come to be called the "American
Route." I should strike westward and then northward, working new trails.
With Annoatok as a base of operations, I planned to carry sufficient
supplies over Schley Land and along the west coast of the game lands,
trusting that the game along this region would furnish sufficient
supplies en route to the shores of the Polar sea. This journey to land's
end would also afford a test of every article of equipment needed in the
field work, and would enable us to choose finally from a selected
number of Eskimos those most able to endure the rigors of the unlimited
journey which lay before us.
I sent out a few hunters along the intended line to seek for haunts of
game, but I was not surprised that their searching in the dark was
practically unsuccessful, and it merely meant that I must depend upon my
previous knowledge of conditions. I knew from the general reports of the
natives, and from the explorations of Sverdrup, that the beginning of
the intended route offered abundant game, and the indications were that
further food would likewise be found as we advanced. The readiness with
which the Eskimos declared themselves ready to trust to the food supply
of the unknown region was highly encouraging.
To start from my base with men and dogs in superb condition, with their
bodies nourished with wholesome fresh meat instead of the nauseating
laboratory stuff too often given to men in the North, was of vital
importance; and if the men and dogs could afterwards be supported in
great measure by the game of the region through which we were to pass,
it would be of an importance more vital still. If my information was
well founded and my general conjectures correct, I should have
advantages which had not been possessed by any other leader of a Polar
expedition. The new route seemed to promise, also, immunity from the
highly disturbing effects of certain North Greenland currents. In all,
the chances seemed not unfavorable.
With busy people hard at work about me, I knew that the months of the
long night would pass rapidly by. There was much to do, and with the
earliest dawn of the morning of the next year we must be ready to start
for the Pole.
THE CURTAIN OF NIGHT DROPS
TRIBE OF TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY NATIVES BUSILY BEGIN PREPARATIONS FOR THE
POLAR DASH--EXCITING HUNTS FOR THE UNICORN AND OTHER GAME FROM ANNOATOK
TO CAPE YORK--EVERY ANIMAL CAUGHT BEARING UPON THE SUCCESS OF THE
VENTURE--THE GREY-GREEN GLOOM OF TWILIGHT IN WHICH THE ESKIMO WOMEN
COMMUNICATE WITH THE SOULS OF THE DEAD
VI
THE SUNSET OF 1907
Winter, long-lasting, dark and dismal, approached. To me it was to be a
season of feverish labor in which every hand at work and every hour
employed counted in the problem of success. While the hands of the
entire tribe would be busy, and while I should direct and help in the
making of sleds, catching of game, preparing of meat, I knew that my
mind would find continual excitement in dreams of my quest, in
anticipating and solving its difficulties, in feeling the bounding pulse
of the dash over the ice of the Polar sea, with dogs joyously barking,
whips cracking the air, and the reappearing sun paving our pathway with
liquid gold. In the labor of the long winter which I began to map out I
knew I should find ceaseless zest, for the pursuit of every narwhal,
every walrus, every fox I should regard with abated suspense, each one
bearing upon my chances; in the employment of every pair of hands I
should hang with an eager interest, the expediency and excellence of the
work making for success or failure. From this time onward everything of
my life, every native, every occurrence began to have some bearing upon
the dominating task to which I had set myself.
With the advance of winter, storms of frightful ferocity began to arise.
Inasmuch as we had stored meat and blubber in large quantities about our
camp, it was not necessary at these times to venture out to dig up
supplies from great depths of snow drift. During these periods hands
were employed busily inside the igloos. Although a large quantity of
animals and furs had been gathered by the hunters before our arrival, we
now unexpectedly discovered that the supply was inadequate. According to
my plans, a large party of picked natives would accompany me to land's
end and somewhat beyond on the Polar sea when I started for my dash in
the coming spring. As spring is the best hunting season, it was
therefore imperative to secure sufficient advance provisions for the
families of these men in addition to preparing requisites for my
expedition. So the early days of the winter would have to be busily
occupied by the men in a ceaseless hunt for game, and later, even when
the darkness had fully fallen, the moonlight days and nights would thus
have to be utilized also.
In the Polar cycle of the seasons there are peculiar conditions which
apply to circumstances and movements. As the word, seasons, is
ordinarily understood, there are but two, a winter season and a summer
season--a winter season of nine months and a summer of three months.
But, for more convenient division of the yearly periods, it is best to
retain the usual cycle of four seasons. Eskimos call the winter
"ookiah," which also means year, and the summer "onsah." Days are
"sleeps." The months are moons, and the periods are named in accord with
the movements of various creatures of the chase.
In early September at Annoatok the sun dips considerably under the
northern horizon. There is no night. At sunset and at sunrise storm
clouds hide the bursts of color which are the glory of twilight, and the
electric afterglow is generally lost in a dull gray.
The gloom of the coming winter night now thickens. The splendor of the
summer day has gone. A day of six months and a night of six months is
often ascribed to the Polar regions as a whole, but this is only true of
a very small area about the Pole.
As we come south, the sun slips under the horizon for an ever-increasing
part of each twenty-four hours. Preceding and following the night, as we
come from the Pole, there is a period of day and night which lengthens
with the descent of latitude.
It is this period which enables us to retain the names of the usual
seasons--summer for the double days, fall for the period of the setting
sun. This season begins when the sun first dips under the ice at
midnight for a few moments. These moments increase rapidly, yet one
hardly appreciates that the sun is departing until day and night are of
equal length, for the night remains light, though not cheerful. Then the
day rapidly shortens and darkens, and the sun sinks until at last there
is but a mere glimmer of the glory of day. Winter is limited to the
long night, and spring applies to the days of the rising sun, a period
corresponding to the autumn days of the setting sun.
At Annoatok the midnight sun is first seen on April 23. It dips in the
sea on August 19. It thus encircles the horizon, giving summer and
continuous day for one hundred and eighteen days. It sets at midday on
October 24, and is absent a period of prolonged night corresponding to
the day, and it rises on February 19. The Arctic air, with its low
temperature and its charge of frosted humidity, so distorts the sun's
rays that when low it is frequently lifted one or two diameters;
therefore, the exact day or hour for sunrise or sunset does not
correspond to mathematical calculations. Then follow days of spring.
In the fall, when the harmonizing influence of the sun is withdrawn,
there begins a battle of the elements which continues until stilled by
the hopeless frost of early night.
At this time, although field work was painful, the needs of our venture
forced us to persistent action in the chase of walrus, seal, narwhal and
white whale. We thus harvested food and fuel.
Before winter ice spread over the sea, ptarmigan, hare and reindeer were
sought on land to supply the table during the long night with
delicacies, while bear and fox pleased the palates of the Eskimos, and
their pelts clothed all.
Many long journeys were undertaken to secure an important supply of
grass to pad boots and mittens and also to secure moss, which serves as
wick for the Eskimo lamp. During the months of September and October,
along the entire Greenland coast, the Eskimos were engaged in a feverish
quest for reserve supplies. Shortly after my arrival, word had been
carried from village to village that I was at Annoatok, and, intending
to make a dash for the "Big Nail," desired the help of the entire tribe.
Intense and spontaneous activity followed. Knowing the demands of the
North, and of such work as I planned, the natives, without specific
instructions from me and with only a brief outline of the planned Polar
campaign which was sent from village to village, immediately got busy
gathering the needed things. They knew better than I where to go for
certain game, and where certain desirable things were obtainable. This
relieved me of a great responsibility. Each local group of natives was
to perform some important duty, suited to its available resources, in
gathering the tremendous amount of material required for our trip. Each
village had its peculiar game advantages.
In some places foxes and hares, the skins of which were necessary for
coats and stockings, were abundant, and the Eskimos must not only gather
the greatest number possible, but prepare the skins and make them into
properly fitting garments. In other places reindeer were plentiful. The
skin of these was needed for sleeping bags, while the sinew was required
for thread. In still other places seal was the luck of the chase; its
skin was one of our most important needs. Of it boots were made, and an
immense amount of line and lashings prepared.
Thus, in one way or another, every man and woman and most of the
children of this tribe of two hundred and fifty people were kept busy in
the service of the expedition. The work was well done, and with much
better knowledge of the fitness of things than could have been possessed
by any possible gathering of alien white men.
The quest of the walrus and the narwhal came in our own immediate plan
of adventure, although the narwhal, called by whale fishers the unicorn,
does not often come under the eye of the white man. It afforded for a
brief spell good results in sport and useful material. Its blubber is
the pride of every housekeeper, for it gives a long, hot flame to the
lamp, with no smoke to spot the igloo finery. The skin is regarded as
quite a delicacy. Cut into squares, it looks and tastes like scallops,
with only a slight aroma of train oil. The meat dries easily, and is
thus prized as an appetizer or as a lunch to be eaten en route in sled
or kayak. In this shape it was an extremely useful thing for us, for it
took the place of pemmican on our less urgent journeys.
Narwhals played in schools, far off shore, and usually along the edges
of some large ice field, their long ivory tusks rising under spouts of
breath and spray. Whenever this glad sight was noted, every kayak about
camp was manned, and the skin canoes went flittering like birds over the
water. Some of the Eskimos climbed to the ice fields and delivered their
harpoons from a secure footing. Others hid behind floating fragments of
heavy ice and made a sudden rush as the animals passed. Still others
came up in the rear, for the narwhal cannot easily see backward, and
does not often turn to watch its enemies, its speed being so fast that
it can easily keep ahead of them.
In these exciting hunts I participated with eager delight, and by proxy
mentally engaged in every encounter. For, in this sea game, existed
food supplies which, instead of entirely confining myself to pemmican, I
planned also to use on my Polar journey. As the skin boats, like bugs,
sped over the water, I felt the movement of them surge in my brain; with
the upraising of each swift-darting native's arm I felt, as it were, my
heart stop with bated suspense. With every failure I experienced a throb
of dismay. With the hauling in of each slimy beast I felt, as it were,
nearer my goal.
Narwhal hunting, in itself, and without the added spur of personal
interest, which I had, is brimful of thrilling sport. The harpoon is
always delivered at close range. Whenever the dragging float marks the
end of the line in tow of the frightened creature, the line of skin
canoes follows. Timid by nature and fearing to rise for breath, the
narwhal plunges along until nearly strangled. When he does come up,
there are likely to be several Eskimos near with drawn lances, which
inflict deep gashes.
Again the narwhal plunges deep down, with but one breath, and hurries
along as best it can. But its speed slackens and a line of crimson marks
its hidden path. Loss of blood and want of air do not give it a chance
to fight. Again it comes up with a spout. Again the lances are hurled.
The battle continues for several hours, with many exciting adventures,
but in the end the narwhal always succumbs, offering a prize of several
thousands of pounds of meat and blubber. Victory as a rule is not gained
until the hunters are far from home, and also far from the shore line.
But the Eskimo is a courageous hunter and an intelligent seaman.
To the huge carcass frail kayaks are hitched in a long line. Towing is
slow, wind and sea combining to make the task difficult and dangerous.
One sees nothing of the narwhal and very little of the kayak, for
dashing seas wash over the little craft, but the double-bladed paddles
see-saw with the regularity of a pendulum. Homecoming takes many hours
and demands a prodigious amount of hard work, but there is energy to
spare, for a wealth of meat and fat is the culmination of all Eskimo
ambition.
Seven of these ponderous animals were brought in during five days,
making a heap of more than forty thousand pounds of food and fuel. The
sight of this tremulous, blubbering mass filled my heart with joy. Our
success was not too soon, for now the narwhals suddenly disappeared, and
we saw no more of them. About this time three white whales were also
obtained at Etah by a similar method of hunting.
With the advent of actual winter, storms swept over the land and sea
with such fury that it was no longer safe to venture out on the water in
kayaks. After the catching of several walruses from boats, sea hunting
now was confined to the quest of seal through young ice. As such hunting
would soon be limited to only a few open spaces near prominent
headlands, an industrious pursuit was feverishly engaged in at every
village from Annoatok to Cape York, and hour by hour, day by day, until
the hunt of necessity changed from sea to land, the husky natives
engaged in seal catching. As yet we had no caribou meat, and the little
auks, which had been gathered in nets during the summer, with the
eider-duck bagged later, soon disappeared as a steady diet. We must now
procure such available land game as hare, ptarmigan and reindeer, for we
had not yet learned to eat with a relish the fishy, liver-like substance
which is characteristic of all marine mammals.
Guns and ammunition were now distributed, and when the winds were easy
enough to allow one to venture out, every Eskimo sought the neighboring
hills. Francke also took his exercise with a gun on his shoulder.
The combined efforts resulted in a long line of ptarmigan, two reindeer
and sixteen hares. As snow covered the upper slopes, the game was forced
down near the sea, where we could still hope to hunt in the feeble light
of the early part of the night.
With a larder fairly stocked and good prospects for other tasty meats,
we were spared the anxiety of a winter without supplies. Francke was an
ideal chef in the preparation of this game to good effect, for he had a
delightful way of making our primitive provisions quite appetizing.
In the middle of October fox skins were prime, and then new steel traps
were distributed and set near the many caches. By this time all the
Eskimos had abandoned their sealskin tents and were snugly settled in
their winter igloos. The ground was covered with snow, and the sea was
almost entirely frozen.
Everybody was busy preparing for the coming cold and night. The
temperature was about 20 deg. below zero. Severe storms were becoming less
frequent, and the air, though colder, was less humid and less
disagreeable. An ice-foot was formed by the tides along shore, and over
this the winter sledging was begun by short excursions to bait the fox
traps and gather the foxes.
Our life now resolved itself into a systematic routine of work, which
was practically followed throughout the succeeding long winter night.
About the box-house in which Francke and I lived were igloos housing
eight to twelve families. The tribe of two hundred and fifty was
distributed in a range of villages along the coast, an average of four
families constituting a community. Early each morning Koo-loo-ting-wah
would bang at my door, enter, and I would drowsily awaken while he
freshened the fire. Rising, we would prepare hot coffee and partake of
breakfast with biscuits. By seven o'clock--according to our standard of
time--five or six of the natives would arrive, and, after a liberal
libation of coffee, begin work. I taught them to help me in the making
of my hickory sleds. Some I taught to use modern carpentering
instruments, which I had with me. Another group was schooled in bending
the resilient but tough hickory. This was done by wrapping old cloths
about the wood and steeping it in hot water. Others engaged, as the days
went by, in making dog harness, articles of winter clothing, and drying
meat. Not an hour was lost during the day. At noon we paused for a bite
of frozen meat and hot tea. Then we fell to work again without respite
until five or six o'clock.
Meanwhile, beginning in the early morning of our steadily darkening
days, other male members of the tribe pursued game. Others again
followed a routine of scouring of the villages and collecting all the
furs and game which had been caught. The women of the tribe, in almost
every dimly lighted igloo, were no less industrious. To them fell the
task of assisting in drying the fur skins, preparing dried meat and
making our clothing. Throughout the entire days they sat in their snow
and stone houses, masses of ill-smelling furs before them, cutting the
skins and sewing them into serviceable garments. This work I often
watched, passing from igloo to igloo, with an interest that verged on
anxiety; for upon the strength, thickness and durability of these
depended my life, and that of the companions I should choose, on the
frigid days which would inevitably come on my journey Poleward. But
these broad-faced, patient women did their work well. Their skill is
quite remarkable. They took my measurements, for instance, by roughly
sizing up my old garments and by measuring me by sight. Garments were
made to fit snugly after the preliminary making by cutting out or
inserting patches of fur. Needles among the natives are indeed precious.
So valuable are they that if a point or eye is broken, with infinite
skill and patience the broken end is heated and flattened, and by means
of a bow drill a new eye is bored. A new point is with equal skill
shaped on local stones. With marvelous patience they make their own
thread by drying and stripping caribou or narwhale sinews.