Bernier, the commander of a northern expedition sent out by the Canadian
Government, and which had been placed in charge of Mr. Whitney. In this
cache were food, new equipment, trading material, and clean underclothes
which Mrs. Cook had sent on the Canadian expedition. With this new store
of suitable supplies, I now completed my equipment for the return to
civilization.[19]
To get home quickly, I concluded, could be done best by going to the
Danish settlements in Greenland, seven hundred miles south, and thence
to Europe by an early steamer. From Upernavik mail is carried in small
native boats to Umanak, where there is direct communication with Europe
by government steamers. By making this journey, and taking a fast boat
to America, I calculated I could reach New York in early July.
Mr. Whitney expected the _Erik_ to arrive to take him south in the
following August. Going, as he planned, into Hudson Bay, he expected to
reach New York in October. Although this would be the easiest and safest
way to reach home, by the route I had planned I hoped to reach New York
four months earlier than the _Erik_ would.
The journey from Etah to Upernavik is about seven hundred miles--a
journey as long and nearly as difficult as the journey to the North
Pole. I knew it involved difficulties and risks--the climbing of
mountains and glaciers, the crossing of open leads of water late in the
season, when the ice is in motion and snow is falling, and the dragging
of sledges through slush and water.
Mr. Whitney, in view of these dangers, offered to take care of my
instruments, notebooks and flag, and take them south on his ship. I knew
that if any food were lost on my journey it might be replaced by game.
Instruments lost in glaciers or open seas could not be replaced. The
instruments, moreover, had served their purposes. The corrections,
notes, and other data were also no longer needed; all my observations
had been reduced, and the corrections were valuable only for a future
re-examination. This is why I did not take them with me. It is
customary, also, to leave corrections with instruments.
In the box which I gave to Mr. Whitney were packed one French sextant;
one surveying compass, aluminum, with azimuth attachment; one artificial
horizon, set in a thin metal frame adjusted by spirit levels and
thumbscrews; one aneroid barometer, aluminum; one aluminum case with
maximum and minimum spirit thermometer; other thermometers, and also one
liquid compass. All of these I had carried with me.
Besides these were left other instruments used about the relief station.
There were papers giving instrumental corrections, readings,
comparisons, and other notes; a small diary, mostly of loose leaves,
containing some direct field readings, and meteorological data. These
were packed in one of the instrument cases. By special request of Mr.
Whitney, I also left my flag.
In addition, I placed in Mr. Whitney's charge several big cases of
clothing and supplies which Mrs. Cook had sent, also ethnological
collections, furs, and geological specimens. In one of these boxes were
packed the instrument cases and notes.
Mr. Whitney's plans later were changed. His ship, the _Erik_, not
having arrived when Peary returned, Whitney arranged with Peary to come
back to civilization on the latter's ship, the _Roosevelt_. As I learned
afterwards, when the _Roosevelt_ arrived Mr. Whitney took from one of my
packing boxes my instruments and packed them in his trunk. He was,
however, prohibited from carrying my things, and all my belongings were
consequently left at the mercy of the weather and the natives in far-off
Greenland. I have had no means of hearing from them since, so that I do
not know what has become of them.
About Etah and Annoatok and on my eastward journey few notes were made.
As well as I can remember, I left Annoatok some time during the third
week of April. On leaving Whitney, I promised to send him dogs and
guides for his prospective hunting trip. I also promised to get for him
furs for a suitable winter suit--because, according to Mr. Peary's
autocratic methods, he had been denied the privilege of trading for
himself. He was not allowed to gather trophies, or to purchase
absolutely necessary furs, nor was he accorded the courtesy of arranging
for guides and dogs with the natives for his ambition to get big game.
All of this I was to arrange for Whitney as I passed the villages
farther south.
In crossing by the overland route, over Crystal Palace Glacier to Sontag
Bay, we were caught in a violent gale, which buried us in drifts on the
highlands. Descending to the sea, we entered a new realm of coming
summer joys.
Moving along to Neurke, we found a big snowhouse village. All had
gathered for the spring walrus chase. Many animals had been caught, and
the hunters were in a gluttonous stupor from continued overfeeding. It
was not long before we, too, filled up, and succumbed to similar
pleasures.
My boys were here, and the principal pastime was native gossip about the
North Pole.
Arriving among their own people here, Ah-we-lah and E-tuk-i-shook
recounted their remarkable journey. They had, of course, no definite
idea of where they had been, but told of the extraordinary journey of
seven moons; of their reaching a place where there was no game and no
life; of their trailing over the far-off seas where the sun did not dip
at night, and of their hunting, on our return, with slingshots, string
traps, and arrows. These were their strong and clear impressions.[20]
From Neurke we crossed Murchison Sound, along the leads where the walrus
was being hunted, and from there we set a course for the eastern point
of Northumberland Island.
We next entered Inglefield Gulf. Our party had grown. Half of the
natives were eager to join us on a pilgrimage to the kindly and beloved
Danes of Southern Greenland; but, because of the advancing season, the
marches must be forced, and because a large sled train hinders rapid
advancement, I reduced the numbers and changed the personnel of my party
as better helpers offered services.
From a point near Itiblu we ascended the blue slopes of a snow-free
glacier, and after picking a dangerous footing around precipitous
cliffs, we rose to the clouds and deep snows of the inland ice. Here,
for twenty-four hours, we struggled through deep snow, with only the
wind to give direction to our trail. Descending from this region of
perpetual mist and storm, we came down to the sea in Booth Sound. From
here, after a good rest, over splendid ice, in good weather, we entered
Wolstenholm Sound. At Oomonoi there was a large gathering of natives,
and among these we rested and fed up in preparation for the long,
hazardous trip which lay before us.
In this locality, the Danish Literary Expedition, under the late Mylius
Ericksen, had wintered. Their forced march northward from Upernavik
proved so desperate that they were unable to carry important
necessaries.
But the natives, with characteristic generosity, had supplied the Danes
with the meat for food and the fat for fuel, which kept them alive
during dangerous and trying times.[21]
We now started for Cape York. My-ah, Ang-ad-loo and I-o-ko-ti were
accepted as permanent members of my party. All of this party was,
curiously enough, hostile to Mr. Peary, and the general trend of
conversation was a bitter criticism of the way the people had been
fleeced of furs and ivory; how a party had been left to die of cold and
hunger at Fort Conger; how, at Cape Sabine, many died of a sickness
which had been brought among them, and how Dr. Dedrick was not allowed
to save their lives; how a number had been torn from their homes and
taken to New York, where they had died of barbarous ill-treatment; how
their great "Iron Stone," their only source of iron for centuries, the
much-prized heritage of their nation, had been stolen from the point we
were now nearing; and so on, throughout a long line of other abuses.
But, at the time, all of this bitterness seemed to soften my own
resentment, and I began to cherish a forgiving spirit toward Mr. Peary.
After all, thought I, I have been successful; let us have an end of
discord and seek a brighter side of life.
Now I began to think for the first time of the public aspect of my
homegoing. Heretofore my anticipations had been centered wholly in the
joys of a family reunion, but now the thought was slowly forced as to
the attitude which others would take towards me. In the wildest flights
of my imagination I never dreamed of any world-wide interest in the
Pole. Again I desire to emphasize the fact that every movement I have
made disproves the allegation that I planned to perpetrate a gigantic
fraud upon the world. Men had been seeking the North Pole for years, and
at no time had any of these many explorers aroused any general interest
in his expedition or the results.
Millions of money, hundreds of lives, had been sacrificed. The complex
forces of great nations had been arrayed unsuccessfully. I had believed
the thing could be done by simpler methods, without the sacrifice of
life, without using other people's money; and, with this conviction, had
gone north. I now came south, with no expectations of reward except such
as would come from a simple success in a purely private undertaking.
I wish to emphasize that I regarded my entire experience as something
purely personal. I supposed that the newspapers would announce my
return, and that there would be a three days' breath of attention, and
that that would be all. So far as I was personally concerned, my chief
thought was one of satisfaction at having satisfied myself, and an
intense longing for home.
We camped at Cape York. Before us was the great white expanse of
Melville Bay to the distant Danish shores. Few men had ever ventured
over this. What luck was in store for us could not be guessed. But we
were ready for every emergency. We moved eastward to an island where the
natives greeted us with enthusiasm, and then we started over treacherous
ice southward. The snow was not deep; the ice proved fairly smooth. The
seals, basking in the new summer sun, augmented our supplies. Frequent
bear tracks added the spirit of the chase, which doubled our speed. In
two days we had the "Devil's Thumb" to our left, and at the end of three
and a half days the cheer of Danish cliffs and semi-civilized Eskimos
came under our eyes.
The route from Annoatok to this point, following the circuitous twists
over sea and land, was almost as long as that from Annoatok to the Pole,
but we had covered it in less than a month. With a record march across
Melville Bay, we had crossed a long line of trouble, in which Mylius
Ericksen and his companions nearly succumbed after weeks of frosty
torture. We had done it in a few days, and in comfort, with the luxury
of abundant food gathered en route.
Behind the Danish archipelago, traveling was good and safe. As we went
along, from village to village, the Eskimos told the story of the Polar
conquest. Rapidly we pushed along to Tassuasak, which we reached in the
middle of May. This is one of the small trading posts belonging to the
district of Upernavik.
At Tassuasak I met Charles Dahl, a congenial Danish official, with whom
I stayed a week. He spoke only Danish, which I did not understand.
Despite the fact that our language was unintelligible, we talked until
two or three o'clock in the morning, somehow conveying our thoughts, and
when he realized what I told him he took my hand, offering warm,
whole-souled Norse appreciation.
Here I secured for Mr. Whitney tobacco and other needed supplies. For
the Eskimos, various presents were bought, all of which were packed on
the returning sleds. Then the time arrived to bid the final adieu to my
faithful wild men of the Far North. Tears took the place of words in
that parting.
By sledge and oomiak (skin boat) I now continued my journey to
Upernavik.
Upernavik is one of the largest Danish settlements in Greenland and one
of the most important trading posts. It is a small town with a
population of about three hundred Eskimos, who live in box-shaped huts
of turf. The town affords residence for about six Danish officials, who
live, with their families, in comfortable houses.
I reached there early one morning about May 20, 1909, and went at
once to the house of Governor Kraul. The governor himself--a tall,
bald-headed, dignified man, a bachelor, about fifty years of
age, of genial manner and considerable literary and scientific
attainments--answered my knock on the door. He admitted me hospitably,
and then looked me over from head to foot.
I was a hard-looking visitor. I wore an old sealskin coat, worn bearskin
trousers, stockings of hare-skin showing above torn seal boots. I was
reasonably dirty. My face was haggard and bronzed, my hair was uncut,
long and straggling. However, I felt reassured in a bath and clean
underclothing secured a week before at Tassuasak. Later these clothes
were replaced by new clothes given me by Governor Kraul, some of which I
wore on my trip to Copenhagen. My appearance was such that I was not
surprised by the governor's question: "Have you any lice on you?"
Some years before he had entertained some Arctic pilgrims, and a
peculiar breed of parasites remained to plague the village for a long
time. I convinced him that, in spite of my unprepossessing appearance,
he was safe in sheltering me.
At his house I had all the luxuries of a refined home with a large
library at my disposal. I had also a large, comfortable feather-bed with
clean sheets. I slept for hours every day, devoting about four or five
hours to my work on my notes.
At breakfast I told Governor Kraul briefly of my journey, and although
he was polite and pleasant, I could see that he was skeptical as to my
having reached the Pole. I remained with him a month, using his pens and
paper putting the finishing touches on my narrative--on which I had done
much work at Cape Sparbo. My notes and papers were scattered about, and
Governor Kraul read them, and as he read them his doubts were dispelled
and he waxed enthusiastic.
Governor Kraul had had no news of the inside world for about a year. He
was as anxious as I was for letters and papers. I went over his last
year's news with a good deal of interest. While thus engaged, early one
foggy morning, a big steamer came into port. It was the steam whaler
_Morning_ of Dundee. Her master, Captain Adams, came ashore with letters
and news. He recited the remarkable journey of Shackleton to the South
Pole as his opening item in the cycle of the year's incidents. After
that he gave it as his opinion that England had become Americanized in
its politics, and after recounting the year's luck in whaling, sealing
and fishing, he then informed me that from America the greatest news was
the success of "The Merry Widow" and "The Dollar Princess." I was
invited aboard to eat the first beefsteak and first fresh civilized food
that I had eaten in two years. I then told him of my Polar conquest. He
was keenly interested in my story, all of my reports seeming to confirm
his own preconceived ideas of conditions about the Pole. When I went
ashore I took a present of a bag of potatoes. To Governor Kraul and
myself these potatoes proved to be the greatest delicacy, for to both
the flavor and real fresh, mealy potatoes gave our meals the finishing
touches of a fine dessert.
I gave Captain Adams some information about new hunting grounds which,
as he left, he said would be tried.[22]
Life at Upernavik was interesting. Among other things, we noted the
total eclipse of the sun on June 17. According to our time, it began in
the evening at eighteen minutes past seven and ended ten minutes after
nine.
For a number of days the natives had looked with anxiety upon the coming
of the mysterious darkness attending the eclipse, for now we were in a
land of anxiety and uneasiness. It was said that storms would follow
each other, displaying the atmospheric rage; that seals could not be
sought, and that all good people should pray. Although a violent
southwest gale did rush by, the last days before the eclipse were clear
and warm.
Governor Kraul suggested a camp on the high rocks east. Mr. Anderson,
the governor's assistant, and I joined in the expedition. We took smoked
and amber glasses, a pen and paper, a camera and field glasses. A little
disk was cut out of the northern side of the sun before we started.
There was no wind, and the sky was cloudless. A better opportunity could
not have been afforded. It had been quite warm. The chirp of the snow
bunting and the buzz of bees gave the first joyous rebound of the short
Arctic summer. Small sand-flies rose in clouds, and the waters glittered
with midsummer incandescence. Small groups of natives, in gorgeous
attire, gathered in many places, and occasionally took a sly glance at
the sun as if something was about to happen. They talked in muffled
undertones.
When one-third of the sun's disk was obscured it was impossible to see
the cut circle with the unprotected eye. It grew perceptibly dark. The
natives quieted and moved toward the church. The birds ceased to sing;
the flies sank to the ground. With the failing light the air quickly
chilled, the bright contour of the land blurred, the deep blue of the
sea faded to a dull purple-blue seemingly lighter, but the midday
splendor of high lights and shadows was lost. The burning glitter of
the waters under the sun now quickly changed to a silvery glow. The
alabaster and ultramarine blue of the icebergs was veiled in gray.
When a thread of light spread the cut out, we knew that the total
eclipse was over. In what seemed like a few seconds the gloom of night
brightened to the sparkle of noon.
[Illustration: SAVED FROM STARVATION--THE RESULT OF ONE OF OUR LAST
CARTRIDGES]
[Illustration: "MILES AND MILES OF DESOLATION."
HOMEWARD BOUND
_Copyright_, 1909, "_New York Herald Co._"]
At the darkest time the natives had called for open church doors, and a
sense of immediate danger came over the savage horizon with the force of
a panic. A single star was visible for about a minute before and after
the total eclipse. A slight salmon flush remained along the western
horizon; otherwise the sky varied in tones of purple-blue.
After the sea had brightened to its normal luster, Governor Kraul gave
the entire native settlement a feast of figs.
About June 20, the Danish supply ship, _Godthaab_, with Captain Henning
Shoubye in command, arrived from South Greenland. Inspector Dougaard
Jensen and Handelschef Weche were aboard on a tour of inspection along
the Danish settlements. A corps of scientific observers were also
aboard. Among these were Professors Thompsen and Steensby and Dr.
Krabbe. Governor Kraul asked me to accompany him aboard the _Godthaab_.
Thus I first met this group of men, who afterwards did so much to make
my journey southward to Copenhagen interesting and agreeable. The
Governor told them of the conquest of the Pole. At the time their
interest in the news was not very marked, but later every phase of the
entire trip was thoroughly discussed.
In a few days the _Godthaab_ sailed from Upernavik to Umanak, and I took
passage on her. Captain Shoubye quietly and persistently questioned me
as to details of my trip. Apparently he became convinced that I was
stating facts, for when we arrived at Umanak, the social metropolis of
North Greenland, the people enthusiastically received me, having been
informed of my feat by the captain.
After coaling at a place near Umanak we started south.
At the "King's Guest House" in Eggedesminde, the only hotel in
Greenland, I met Dr. Norman-Hansen, a scientist, with whom I talked. He
questioned me, and a fraternal confidence was soon established.
Later the _Godthaab_, which took the missionary expedition to the
northernmost Eskimo settlement at North Star Bay and then returned,
arrived from Cape York with Knud Rassmussen and other Danes aboard. They
had a story that my two Eskimos had said I had taken them to the "Big
Nail."
FROM GREENLAND TO COPENHAGEN
FOREWARNING OF THE POLAR CONTROVERSY--BANQUET AT EGGEDESMINDE--ON
BOARD THE HANS EGEDE--CABLEGRAMS SENT FROM LERWICK--THE OVATION AT
COPENHAGEN--BEWILDERED AMIDST THE GENERAL ENTHUSIASM--PEARY'S FIRST
MESSAGES--EMBARK ON OSCAR II FOR NEW YORK
XXXI
AT THE DANISH METROPOLIS
At Eggedesminde was given the first banquet in my honor. At the table
were about twenty people. Knud Rassmussen, the writer, among others
spoke. In an excited talk in Danish, mixed with English and German, he
foretold the return of Mr. Peary and prophesied discord. This made
little impression at the time and was recalled only by later events.
At this point I wish to express my gratitude and appreciation of the
universal courtesy of which I was the recipient at every Danish
settlement in my southward progress along the coast of Greenland.
At Eggedesminde Inspector Daugaard-Jensen endeavored to secure an idle
walrus schooner for me. By this I hoped to get to Labrador and thence to
New York. This involved considerable official delay, and I estimated I
could make better time by going to Copenhagen on the _Hans Egede_.
Although every berth on this boat, when it arrived, was engaged,
Inspector Daugaard-Jensen, with the same characteristic kindness and
courtesy shown me by all the Danes, secured for me comfortable quarters.
On board were a number of scientific men and Danish correspondents. As
the story of my quest had spread along the Greenland coast, and as
conflicting reports might be sent out, Inspector Daugaard-Jensen
suggested that I cable a first account to the world.
The anxiety of the newspaper correspondents on board gave me the idea
that my story might have considerable financial value. I was certainly
in need of money. I had only forty or fifty dollars and I needed
clothing and money for my passage from Copenhagen to New York.
The suggestions and assistance of Inspector Daugaard-Jensen were very
helpful. Iceland and the Faroe Islands, frequent ports of call for the
Danish steamers, because of a full passenger list and the absence of
commercial needs, were not visited by the _Hans Egede_ on this return
trip. The captain decided to put into Lerwick, in the Shetland Islands,
so that I could send my message.
I prepared a story of about 2,000 words, and went ashore at Lerwick. No
one but myself and a representative of the captain was allowed to land.
We swore the cable operator to secrecy, sent several official and
private messages, and one to James Gordon Bennett briefly telling of my
discovery. As the operator refused to be responsible for the press
message, it was left with the Danish consul. To Mr. Bennett I cabled:
"Message left in care of Danish consul, 2,000 words. For it $3,000
expected. If you want it, send for it."
Our little boat pulled back to the _Hans Egede_, and the ship continued
on her journey to Copenhagen. Two days passed. On board we talked of my
trip as quite a commonplace thing. I made some appointments for a short
stay in Copenhagen.
Off the Skaw, the northernmost point of Denmark, a Danish man-of-war
came alongside us. There was a congratulatory message from the Minister
of State. This greatly surprised me.
Meanwhile a motor boat puffed over the unsteady sea and a half dozen
seasick newspaper men, looking like wet cats, jumped over the rails.
They had been permitted to board on the pretext that they had a message
from the American Minister, Dr. Egan. I took them to my cabin and asked
whether the New York _Herald_ had printed my cable. The correspondent of
the _Politiken_ drew out a Danish paper in which I recognized the story.
I talked with the newspaper men for five minutes and my prevailing
impression was that they did not know what they wanted. They told me
Fleet Street had moved to Copenhagen. I confess all of this seemed
foolish at the time.