The proceedings of this sledge party were so interesting that I give
them in the words of Tom Gregory's journal:
"_Sunday_.--We have indeed cause to rejoice and to thank God for His
mercies this morning. Last night we shot a bear, and the captain is
away with the carcass of it to our poor scurvy-smitten friends in the
_Hope_. This Sunday will be a real day of rest for me and Sam Baker,
though our resting-place is a very queer one. After the captain left
us, we looked about for a convenient place to encamp, and only a few
yards from the spot where we killed the bear we found the ruins of an
old Eskimo hut made partly of stones, partly of ice. We set to work to
patch it up with snow, and made it perfectly air-tight in about two
hours.
"Into this we carried our bear-skins and things, spread them on the
snowy floor, put a lump of bear's fat into our tin travelling lamp, and
prepared supper. We were not particular about the cookery. We cut a
couple of huge slices off our bear's ham, half roasted them over the
lamp, and began. It was cut, roast, and come again, for the next hour
and a half. I positively never knew what hunger was until I came to
this savage country! And I certainly never before had any idea of how
much I could eat at one sitting!
"This hearty supper was washed down with a swig of melted snow-water.
We had some coffee with us, but were too tired to infuse it. Then we
blocked up the door with snow, rolled our bear-skins round us, and were
sound asleep in five minutes.
"Lucky for us that we were so careful to stop up every hole with snow,
for, during the night the wind rose and it became so intensely cold that
Baker and I could scarcely keep each other warm enough to sleep, tired
though we were. At this moment my fingers are so stiff that they will
hardly hold the pencil with which I write, and the gale is blowing so
furiously outside that we dare not open the door. This door, by the
way, is only a hole big enough to creep through. The captain cannot
travel to-day. He knows we are safe, so I will not expect him. I have
brought my small Testament with me. It has hitherto been my constant
travelling companion. I am thus provided with mental food. But, in
truth, I shall not want much of that for the next twelve hours. Rest!
rest! rest! is what we require. No one can imagine how a man can enjoy
rest, after he has been for many months exposed to constant, exhausting,
heart-breaking toil, with the thermometer _always_ below zero, and with
nothing but salt food to keep him alive.
"_Tuesday night_.--Here we are at last--among the Eskimos! and what a
queer set they are, to be sure. All fat and fur! They look as broad as
they are long. They wear short fox and seal-skin coats, or shirts, with
hoods to then; no trousers, but long boots, that come up and meet the
coats. Women, men, and babies, all dressed alike, or nearly so. The
only difference is that the women's boots are longer and wider than
those of the men. But I forgot--yes, there is one other difference; the
women have _tails_ to their coats; the men have none! Real tails--not
like the broad skirts of our dress-coats, but long, narrow tails,
something like the tail of a cow, with a broadish flap at the end of it.
This they evidently look upon as a handsome ornament, for I observe
that when they go off on a journey, each woman buttons her tail up to
her waist, to keep it out of the way, and when she returns she unbuttons
it, and comes into camp with her tail flowing gracefully behind her!
"We had a terrible journey of it down here. The captain returned to us
on Monday morning early, and the next two days we spent struggling over
the hummocks and out upon the floes. It was so cold that the wind cut
into our very marrow. We have all had our faces frozen, more or less,
but not badly. Baker will have an ugly spot on the end of his nose for
some weeks to come. It is getting black now, and as the nose itself is
bright red and much swelled, his appearance is not improved. I
foolishly tried to eat a little snow yesterday morning, and the
consequence is that my lips are sore and bloody. On Monday afternoon
the dogs and sledge went head over heels into a deep rut in the ice, and
it cost us two hours to get them out again. Luckily no damage was done,
although the captain was on the sledge at the time.
"We had almost despaired of finding the village when we came upon a
sledge track that led us straight up to it. I shall never forget the
beauty of the scene on our arrival. The sky was lighted up with the
most beautiful aurora I have yet seen in these regions. Stars spangled
the sky in millions. Great ice-bergs rose in wild confusion in the
distance, and all along the shore for a few hundred yards were clusters
of snow-huts. They looked exactly like bee-hives. I have seen many a
strange house, but the strangest of all is certainly a house of snow!
To-day I was fortunate enough to see one built. It was done very
neatly. The hard snow was cut into slabs with a wooden knife. These
were piled one above another in regular order, and cemented with snow--
as bricks are with lime. The form of the wall was circular, and the
slabs were so shaped that they sloped inwards, thus forming a dome, or
large bee-hive, with a key-stone slab in the top to keep all firm. A
hole was then cut in the side for a door--just large enough to admit of
a man creeping through. In front of this door a porch or passage of
snow was built. The only way of getting into the hut is by creeping on
hands and knees along the passage. A hole was also cut in the roof,
into which was inserted a piece of clear ice, to serve for a window.
"The natives received us with wild surprise, and I found my old friends,
the walrus-hunters, among them. They were remarkably friendly. One
stout, middle-aged fellow invited us to his hut. I am now seated in it
beside the Eskimo's wife, who would be a good-looking woman if she were
not so fat, dirty, and oily! But we cannot expect people living in this
fashion, and in such a country, to be very clean. Although the hut is
white outside, it is by no means white inside. They cook all their food
over an oil-lamp, which also serves to heat the place; and it is
wonderful how warm a house of snow becomes. The cold outside is so
great as to prevent the walls melting inside. Besides Myouk, our host,
and his wife, there are two of the man's sisters, two lads, two girls,
and a baby in the hut. Also six dogs. The whole of them--men, women,
children, and dogs, are as fat as they can be, for they have been
successful in walrus-hunting of late. No wonder that the perspiration
is running down my face! The natives feel the heat, too, for they are
all half-naked--the baby entirely so; but they seem to like it!
"What a chattering, to be sure! I am trying to take notes, and Myouk's
wife is staring at me with her mouth wide open. It is a wonder she can
open her eyes at all, her cheeks are so fat. The captain is trying, by
the language of signs, to get our host to understand that we are much in
want of fresh meat. Sam Baker is making himself agreeable to the young
people, and the plan he has hit upon to amuse them is to show them his
watch, and let them hear it tick. Truly, I have seldom seen a happier
family group than this Eskimo household, under their snowy roof!
"There is to be a grand walrus-hunt to-morrow. We shall accompany them,
and see whether our endurance on a long march, and our powers with the
rifle, cannot impress them with some respect for us. At present they
have not much. They seem to think us a pale-faced set of helpless
creatures.
"_Wednesday night_.--We have just returned from the hunt; and a
tremendous hunt it was! Six walrus and two bears have been killed, and
the whole village is wild with delight. Cooking is going on in every
hut. But they have no patience. Nearly everyone is munching away at a
lump of raw walrus flesh. All their faces are more or less greasy and
bloody. Even Myouk's baby--though not able to speak--is choking itself
with a long, stringy piece of blubber. The dogs, too, have got their
share. An Eskimo's chief happiness seems to be in eating, and I cannot
wonder at it, for the poor creatures have hard work to get food, and
they are often on the verge of starvation.
"What a dirty set they are! I shall never forget the appearance of
Myouk's hut when we entered it this evening after returning from the
hunt. The man's wife had made the wick of her stone lamp as long as
possible in order to cook a large supper. There were fifteen people
crowded together in this hive of snow, and the heat had induced them to
throw off the greater part of their clothing. Every hand had a greasy
lump of bear or walrus meat in it; every mouth was in full occupation,
and every fat face, of man, woman, and child, was beaming with delight
and covered with dirt and oil!
"The captain and I looked at each other and smiled as we entered, and
Sam Baker laughed outright. This set all the natives laughing, too. We
did not much relish the idea of supping and sleeping in such a place--
but necessity has no law. We were hungry as hawks, desperately tired,
and the temperature outside is 35 degrees below zero. The first duty of
the night is now over. We have supped. The natives will continue to
eat the greater part of the night. They eat till they fall asleep; if
they chance to awake they eat again. Half of them are asleep now, and
snoring. The other half are eating slowly, for they are nearly full.
The heat and smell are awful! I am perspiring at every pore. We have
taken off as much of our clothes as decency will permit. Sam has on a
pair of trousers--nothing more. I am in the same state! There is
little room, as may be supposed. We have to lie huddled up as we best
can, and a strange sight we are as the red light of the flaring lamp
falls on us. At this moment Myouk's wife is cutting a fresh steak. The
youngest boy is sound asleep with a lump of fat between his teeth. The
captain is also sound, with his legs sprawling over the limbs of half a
dozen slumbering natives. He is using the baby as a pillow. It is
curious to think that these poor creatures always live in this way.
Sometimes feasting, sometimes starving. Freezing out on the floes;
stewing under their roofs of snow. Usually fat; for the most part
jolly; always dirty!
"It is sad, too, to think of this; for it is a low condition for human
beings to live in. They seem to have no religion at all. Certainly
none that is worthy of the name. I am much puzzled when I think of the
difficulties in the way of introducing Christianity among these northern
Eskimos. No missionary could exist in such a climate and in such
circumstances. It is with the utmost difficulty that hardy seamen can
hold out for a year, even with a ship-load of comforts. But this is too
deep a subject to write about to-night! I can't keep my eyes open. I
will, therefore, close my note-book and lie down to sleep--perhaps to be
suffocated! I hope not!"
Accordingly, our young friend the doctor did lie down to sleep, and got
through the night without being suffocated. Indeed, he slept so soundly
that Captain Harvey could scarcely rouse him next morning.
"Hallo! Tom! Tom!" cried he loudly, at the same time shaking his
nephew's arm violently.
"Aye, eh!" and a tremendous yawn from Tom. "What now, uncle? Time to
rise, is it? Where am I?"
"Time to rise!" replied the captain, laughing. "I should think it is.
Why, it's past eleven in the forenoon. The stars are bright and the sky
clear. The aurora, too, is shining. Come, get up! The natives are all
outside watching Sam while he packs our sledge. The ladies are going
about the camp whisking their tails and whacking their babies in great
glee, for it is not every day they enjoy such a feed as they had last
night."
In half an hour they were ready. The whole village turned out to see
them start. Myouk, with his wife Oomia, and the baby, and his son
Meetek, accompanied them to Refuge Harbour. Oomia's baby was part of
herself. She could not move without it! It was always naked, but being
stuffed into the hood of its mother's fur-coat, it seemed always warm.
"I say, Tom, what's that up in the sky?" said Captain Harvey suddenly,
after they had been driving for a couple of hours. "It's the strangest
looking thing I ever did see."
"So it is," replied Gregory, gazing intently at the object in question,
which seemed high up in the air. "It can't be a comet, because it gives
no light."
"Perhaps not, but it has got a tail, that's a fact," said Baker, in a
voice of surprise. "Who ever heard of a dark, four-cornered star with a
tail? If I had seen it in daylight, and in Merry England, I would have
said it was a kite!"
"A kite! nonsense," cried the captain; "what in the world _can_ it be?"
Reader, you shall find that out in the next chapter.