On the highest peak at the source of Ikuk creek, a southerly tributary
of the Pitmegea, are the ruins of a hut and smaller outhouse, the like
of which has never been met with in Northwestern Alaska. Above the
grass line, past perpetual beds of snow, up where wild storms sweep
away ice, snow, and soil, where only a few gray lichens are to be seen,
man, at some former time, has placed a habitation. On the crest of the
mountain there is a ragged limestone comb twelve feet high, cracked and
shattered into flakes by the vigor of the polar winters. On the south
side of this comb, sheltered from the prevailing north winds,
excavations have been made into the rock. Taking the comb of rock for
one side of the house, the other side of the semicircle has been built
up with flat stones, laid up like bricks in masonry, but without
mortar. Moss and soil have been in all probability used here instead of
mortar, but years of fierce winds have blown it out from the crevices.
The structure is conic in shape, after the manner of a Greenlander's
snow-hut. This one is about seven feet in diameter. Facing its entrance
is a smaller house of similar construction, most likely used as a
shelter for game. Winter storms have crumbled away the roofs of both so
that they have fallen in, and the fragments of stones are partially
covered with soil. The whole bears the impression of age, and no
natives have been found who have ever heard of it. From the summit of
this peak a splendid view is obtained of the surrounding country, the
Arctic ocean, and herds of passing reindeer.
* * * * *
Gold has been found near the Pitmegea, at the head of the same creek
and tributary, it being contained in sulphurets of iron, which exist in
large quantities in that vicinity, there being from $3.50 to $8.00
worth of gold in a ton; the country is all but impassable, however, and
this, together with the shortness of the season, would prevent any
mining with profit.
Our party returned from the Pitmegea with a few ptarmigan and ducks,
and upon our arrival the ship was at once gotten under way and we stood
to the northward for Point Barrow. Drift-ice was constantly passed, but
fortunately so scattered as not to form any obstruction to free
navigation.
On the next day we enjoyed a superb Arctic summer's day, and began to
fall in with the whaling fleet on the way north to Point Barrow.
Fifteen vessels were sighted and passed, most of them vessels under
sail. Rounding the dangerous Blossom shoals and the Icy cape of Captain
Cook, we stood to the northeast, finding generally clear water, with
scattered drift-ice. Upon the floes we found great quantities of
walrus, in some cases stretched at full length, sound asleep. One huge
fellow remained so undisturbed at our approach that he was supposed to
be dead, but a well aimed Irish potato aroused him so rudely that he
quickly slid off the floe and disappeared beneath the water.
Pushing on we passed Pt. Belcher at 9.30 in the evening, in the fog and
rain, and came to heavy masses of ice over which a low fog had settled.
With some delay and difficulty we worked out of both the fog and the
ice and at five o'clock in the morning sighted four
vessels--steamers--at anchor off the village of Ootkavie at Cape Smyth,
8 miles from Point Barrow, and the site of Captain Ray's Signal Service
meteorologic station of some years ago, the house that sheltered the
party being still standing. One of the steamers proved to be our old
friend the "Bear," which had passed to the northward when we had
returned southward from the Arctic with the survivors of the "Little
Ohio." The other vessels were made out to be steam-whalers, and at
seven o'clock we anchored near them, off the site determined upon for
the house of refuge.
Finding the Bear had commenced to discharge her stores and materials,
all of our facilities were at once used in tending her assistance, our
steam launch Achilles (now, as of yore, the child of the Thetis) being
busily at work towing boats to and fro, while our men and mechanics,
with officers, were busily engaged in aiding the construction of the
house of refuge.
Our arrival at Cape Smyth and vicinity of Point Barrow was on the 29th
of July, the Bear having arrived on the 27th, the Saturday previous.
While we were lying at anchor engaged in the erection of the house of
refuge, the rest of the whaling fleet, both sail and steam, gradually
arrived and came to anchor off the coast, reaching from Cape Smyth to
Point Barrow. After a short stay the steamers went on to the eastward
of Point Barrow, following along the ice-pack, which was in sight from
Point Barrow, until they reached the heavier ice off Point Tangent.
When the last of the whaling vessels had arrived, a fleet of
forty-seven vessels carrying the American flag had assembled within
sight of the most northerly point of the United States, composed of
steamers, barks, brigantines and schooners. These vessels, manned by
about twelve hundred men, I venture to say formed the largest
assemblage of vessels and men under the American flag to be found
anywhere during that year. I cannot speak too highly of the skill,
seamanship, courage, and endurance of the whaling masters. They are a
fine body of American seamen.
The scene on shore was one of abnormal activity for this region, the
erection of the house of refuge, the hasty landing and transportation
of stores (in which the whalers assisted), the movements of the Eskimos
about their village (which was dotted with the white summer tents of
the residents and the visiting inland Eskimos), and the clustering and
trading about the Whaling Company's station (Ray's old station), gave a
life and movement which was as shortlived as the season. Fortunately
the weather proved most favorable and the heavy ice kept off shore
while the stores were landed; the wind then freshened, but
communication could still be kept up and the work of erection went on.
The site of the house of refuge is within a few hundred yards of Ray's
old house and near the village, and its keeper, Captain Borden (an old
New Bedford whaler) was busy in putting his house in order before the
autumn should come on. During our stay at this place we were enabled to
make a hydrographic survey of the anchorage, which demonstrated that
the contour of the bottom is constantly changed by the ploughing and
planing done by the heavy ice grounded and driven up by the pressure of
the mighty ice-pack, under the influence of northerly winds and gales.
And here let me say a word about the ice of this part of the Arctic
ocean. The ice in summer consists of floes and fields of various sizes,
which are cemented together in winter by the young or newly frozen ice.
No icebergs exist in this part of the Arctic, as there are no glaciers
near the sea coast to form them. The shore along the entire Arctic
coast of Alaska shows evidence of former glacial action, but the only
glaciers to be found are in the southeastern part of the territory.
The Arctic pack, which never melts, consists of hard blue ice, made up
of fields and floes of comparatively level ice, which are surrounded
and interspersed with hummocks varying from ten to forty feet in
height. These hummocks are formed by the broken and telescoped ice
resulting from the collision and grinding together of heavy ice-floes,
the hummocks being often rounded and smoothed in outline by heavy falls
of snow.
In the spring, under the influence of the prevailing southerly winds
and northerly currents, the packs break off from the shore and move to
the north, the position of the southern edge varying in latitude with
the season and the winds.
The shore-ice, which remains fast to the coast line after the pack
moves off, gradually breaks up as the season advances, and, becoming
scattered, is taken to the northeastward from the vicinity of Point
Barrow and northwestward from the vicinity of Herald island and Wrangel
land.
Sometimes a long line of heavy floe-ice from the pack grounds in the
shallow water near the shore during northerly winds, pressed from
behind by the force and weight of the entire northern pack. It is
gradually forced up, ploughing its way through the bottom, at the same
time rising gradually along the ascent of the bottom toward the land.
The effect of this solid wall of cold and relentless blue ice slowly
rising and advancing upon those imprisoned between the ice and the
shore is one of the most sublime and terrible things that can be
experienced.
The normal current running north through Bering strait forks a short
distance to the north, one branch going through Kotzebue Sound and
thence along the mainland by Cape Seppings, Point Hope, and Icy cape,
to Point Barrow, at which point it goes off to the unknown northeast;
the other branch, to the northwestward along the Siberian coast, and
thence to the northward toward Herald island. The whalers burned by the
Confederate vessel Shenandoah near Bering strait were found in the
vicinity of Herald island.
The only portion of the whalers at the time actively cruising had gone
to the eastward of Point Barrow. On that day a seaman named Tuckfield
returned from the Mackenzie in a whaleboat, and reported the ice
conditions unusually favorable as far east as Mackenzie Bay, in the
vicinity of which he had wintered. He was a seaman belonging to the
whaling station and had been reported to me by a missionary I met at
St. Michaels as having visited his station at Rampart house, upon the
Porcupine river, a branch of the Yukon.
Upon the 8th of August the house of refuge was virtually finished, and
as my orders were to devote my time to the whaling fleet, after the
completion of this structure, I concluded to cruise after and with the
vessel to the eastward of Point Barrow, leaving the Bear to remain with
the vessels lying at anchor off Cape Smyth and Point Barrow. As
Tuckfield wanted to go east with his Eskimo guide, I took him and his
whaleboat and whaling outfit on board, leaving Cape Smyth on the
evening of the 8th. The ice in sight at the time was somewhat
scattered, but plentiful, and entering it about nine o'clock we slowly
stood on a course parallel to the land. We were occupied in working
through this ice all night and all of the next day; it was not the pack
ice but shore ice broken off from the vicinity of Point Tangent, Smyth
bay, and Harrison bay. At times we found it so closely packed together
by current and wind that we had to turn back and work our way closer
inshore. Three vessels under sail were sighted during this time off
Tangent point, and by this time we had also demonstrated the
uselessness of Little Joe Tuckfield as an ice pilot or prophet. The
winds were very light and we had now gotten out of the strong northeast
current running off Point Barrow. On the night of the 9th we passed off
the north of the Colville river, the water offshore becoming very
muddy.
The first important error found in the charts and maps of this region
was found here by the observation of the non-existence of the Pelly
mountains. This observation was confirmed upon our return by the
concurrent testimony of the whaling masters who had cruised here, and
the natives who hunt in the neighborhood. The mountains certainly do
not exist where placed by the charts, and I judge that some small
hummocks near the beach were mistaken for a far off range of mountains,
when Dease and Simpson first explored this coast in 1837.
Early on the morning of the 10th of August we sighted the first steam
whaler, and as we steamed toward her we skirted along some long low
islands parallel to the coast line and stretching from the Return reef
of Sir John Franklin to the mouth of the Colville river. The islands,
one being about three miles long, are not shown upon the charts, and
not having any known names were designated as the Thetis islands.
The steam-whaler was found to be the Balæna, commanded by Captain
Everett Smith, one of the most intelligent of the whalemen of the
Arctic. He was anchored off Return reef, which he was enabled
definitely to locate by the traditions of the natives. It was at this
point that Sir John Franklin, in one of his earliest boat journeys, was
obliged to turn back while endeavoring to explore the coast from
Mackenzie bay to Point Barrow. After a long interview with Captain
Smith, from which I gathered much information as to the ice-conditions
and the probable positions of the steam-whalers to the eastward, he
returned on board of his ship, and the good ship Thetis once more
turned her head to the eastward.
Soon afterwards another steam-whaler was sighted, made fast by
ice-anchors to an ice-floe; we did not stop, but, exchanging colors,
proceeded on our way. The ice seemed to be getting thicker, and shortly
afterwards a third whaler was sighted, at anchor off a small low
island, with apparently heavy ice ahead. As the weather seemed
uncertain I determined to anchor for the night in the vicinity of the
island.
The steamer was found to be the whaler Beluga, commanded by Captain
Brooks, and the island, though nameless, was marked by a wooden cross,
from which fact it was called Cross island. Captain Brooks stated that
he had been struggling with the ice to the eastward of Cross island,
the day before, in company with some other steam-whalers who had left
him and gone to the eastward, so he had turned back and anchored off
Cross island. I sounded out the vicinity of the island, finding shoal
water to the southward, too shoal for the Thetis to anchor in, and so I
remained upon the west side. The wind shifting, our position became
insecure on account of the masses of ice drifting toward us; the whaler
left the anchorage, stood out into the heavy ice, and made fast to a
high hummocky floe. Seeing no good place near by, I held on with the
chain on the steam windlass, ready to leave in a moment. Heavy ice
coming down and grounding close by on both sides, we left and got out
the ice-anchors to a heavy floe, where we rode out the gale until early
in the morning, when we were obliged to move on, as the ice packed
about our rudder. After moving again and again the wind fell away, the
day cleared up, and the ice began to scatter and disappear about the
island, the leads to the eastward looking more promising.
The next day at 5 in the morning, in company with our whaling friend,
we left the vicinity of Cross island and, entering the ice, stood
toward the northeast. The ice-floes grew heavier and larger as we
progressed and the canal-like leads more confused, until at 10 o'clock
the lead stopped and we both made fast to a very large, long, hummocky
floe, at least ten miles in length, several miles in breadth, and
aground in 80 feet of water. The day was mild and clear, and, after
both of the ice-anchors had been secured and the rope-ladders lowered
over the bows, a number of the officers and men went on the ice, the
men playing foot-ball and snow balling, while the officers posed for
their photographs. This is the time that we were reported (by a
steam-whaler that we had passed) as being in a position of extreme
danger, and the news was taken to the outside world.
About 4 o'clock in the afternoon we started ahead with the Beluga; the
Thetis, now taking the lead, rammed her way through some pack-ice and
reached another lead going inshore, the Beluga following very slowly
after us. We continued forcing our way until we got into clear water by
Lion reef. At midnight we made fast to a small floe and after an
anxious night (caused by ice-floes setting against our stern and
rudder) we proceeded, followed at along distance by the Beluga, which
joined us in the afternoon at Camden Bay, and we anchored there for the
night. We found that the Beluga in attempting to follow us had gotten
on an ice-foot, or protruding spur, and bent her propeller-blades, and
had finally to seek another lead out, to the westward of where we had
rammed through. As we ran from off Lion reef to Camden bay we sighted
the beautiful ranges of mountains close to the coast known as the
Franklin and Romanzoff mountains, making an agreeable change in the
topography of the shore, which had been low and monotonously flat since
leaving Point Hope and the vicinity of Cape Lisburne. We found here
that the shore-line was put upon the charts too far north, as our
position near Flaxman island, on the west side of Camden bay, was well
inland of the coast-line and reefs. Camden bay was the last wintering
place of Collinson, in the Enterprise, upon his return from his search
for Sir John Franklin, and here we fell in with the track of this
distinguished navigator, whose cruise is so little known and whose
efforts have been so much eclipsed by his fellow voyager, McClure, who
has the distinction given him of being the actual discoverer of the
Northwest passage, and who was, indeed, with his little body of men in
1850-1854, the first as well as the last to pass from the Pacific to
the Atlantic, north of the American continent.
Upon a long point named Collinson point, and upon the neighboring
island known as Barter island, are to be found, during the summer,
encampments and rendezvous of Eskimos, who meet there for purposes of
trade, similar to the same rendezvous in Kotzebue sound. Here the
Alaskan and the Mackenzie river Eskimos meet, also the Lucia or Prat
river Indians, who are nomads and come from the vicinity of the
Porcupine and Prat rivers, and whose winter rendezvous and habitation
is at the Rampart house, a Hudson Bay Company's station and Church of
England mission, upon the Porcupine. They are mostly professing
Christians and are related to the Athabascans, or Rock mountain
Indians, in family. There are no permanent settlements here or
elsewhere between the vicinity of Herschel island and Point Barrow. The
country is sterile, affording but little upon which to live, the sea
also having little or no animal life in its waters. The Eskimos give to
this part of the Arctic ocean a native name which signifies _the sea
where there is always ice_.
Early the next morning, August 14th, at 5 o'clock, we pushed on in
company with the Beluga, standing out of Camden bay and delaying a
short time off Barter island, to communicate with the natives. At noon,
while off Manning point, the smoke of several steamers was seen to the
eastward, and when they had come up we found all but two of the
steam-whalers that had gone east. They were led by the steamer William
Lewis, commanded by Captain Albert Sherman, probably the boldest and
most active of the Arctic whalers. They were all in the cabin of the
Thetis in a short time, and I found that they had reached Mackenzie bay
and the vicinity of the Mackenzie river. The two missing ones, the Orca
and Thrasher, had last been seen in the vicinity of Herschel island.
The ice-conditions were reported to be better than those we had passed
through. After reflection I considered it my duty, as it was my desire,
to go on to the eastward to ascertain the cause of the detention of the
two missing whalers, and as time was precious I determined to run on,
day and night. By this time night had assumed the conditions of
twilight, and the stars had begun to appear in the skies. The
threatening appearance of the weather detained us at first, but at 9
o'clock in the evening we got under way, and with her colors hoisted
the good ship started again on her easterly course, followed in about
half an hour by our old friend and companion, the Beluga. Before
leaving we had hoisted out the whale-boat with Joe and native friends,
who had been joined at this point by the women of the family. Joe was
uncertain about his movements here, and as he expected to secure stores
from some of the whalers I left him in their company.
We found the shore bolder as we progressed, and the mountains nearer
the coast; as a result, the ice generally sets directly and in heavy
masses on the shore without grounding, and this point has never been
passed before by the whalers, but fortunately a wide lane was open. The
sight of the mountains, standing in their silent and gloomy grandeur,
was peculiarly impressive, and our inability to make a closer
examination and exploration is to be regretted. So far as I can
ascertain, no white man has ever penetrated these mountainous regions,
which are known upon the maps in turn under the varying names of the
Romanzoff, British, Buckland and Richardson mountains, being so named
by Sir John Franklin during his boat journey along the coast. The
British mountains are at the extreme northeastern corner of our
territory of Alaska, reaching also across the boundary-line into
British America. We passed Demarcation point, where our boundary-line
reaches the Arctic ocean, early upon the morning of the 15th of August,
and commenced again our cruising in British waters. The character of
the shore remained the same, the mountains, however, showing little
traces of snow, testifying in this way both to the extreme mildness of
the winter and our approach to the valley of the Mackenzie. A few
Eskimo huts were seen as we came up to the shoal ground developed by
our lead in the vicinity of the mouth of the Malcolm river. The lead
was constantly going while we were in these waters, and the ship was
steered by it as much as by our compass. In fact the three L's
(latitude, lead, lookout) are the great necessities for navigation in
these unknown regions, as the three R's are supposed to be in
elementary schooling. At 11 o'clock in the morning Herschel island was
sighted, this large island forming the western boundary of Mackenzie
bay, or, as the ancient explorers often termed it, Mackenzie sea. At
1.30 in the afternoon we anchored off the southwest end of the island
inside some grounded ice and off a long gravelly spit, thickly covered
with heavy drift-wood from the Mackenzie river.
The island is about 500 feet in height and has a rounded outline,
sloping gradually down from the center upon all sides. It shows the
appearance of former glacial action, and appears to be an ancient
moraine covered with a black vegetable mould. The vegetation was
confined to grasses and small Arctic flowers, diminutive in size,
delicate in color, and evidently shortlived.
Soon after we anchored a party was sent on shore to erect a sign to
mark our visit; it consisted of a board with the name of the ship and
the date of the visit in brass letters; under the staff supporting it
there are placed in a glass bottle the names of the officers and men of
the ship. The Beluga joined us soon after our arrival, and when the
party from shore had returned we got under way to continue our look for
the two whalers. Captain Brooks came on board the Thetis and shared my
perch and lookout in the foretop, while his ship followed, in charge of
his mate. As we reached the bluffs at the north end of the island we
saw a noble expanse of open water stretching to the northward as far as
the eye could reach. The ice was still heavy to the westward and
northwestward, but to the north, beyond the light, scattering ice
through which we were going, was clear sea, the waves leaping in the
beautiful Arctic sunshine.
We looked with eagerness to the sea which stretched, apparently, to the
north pole, and then headed to the southward into Mackenzie bay.
After three hours' steaming from our first anchorage we reached the
southeast side of the island and found the two missing whalers lying
quietly at anchor, Captain Brooks giving a hearty and relieved cry of
_Sail ho!_, when the vessels were seen, and we were all pleased to see
them safe and secure. We came to anchor close by them and the two
captains were soon on board. They reported that they had remained
behind to watch for the return of whales from the northeastward, but so
far without any success. They had determined to remain until September,
and contemplated the possibility of wintering at this place. Soon after
we anchored, Eskimos who lived at the mouth of the Mackenzie came on
board, and they looked at the ship with the greatest surprise and
interest. They had not seen vessels before this summer, though the
traditions concerning the "Enterprise" and "Investigator," under
Collinson and McClure, still survived.
Sleeping soundly that night, for the first time in many days, the
following morning boat parties were dispatched to complete the
circumnavigation of the island and to make running surveys in the
vicinity.
A small, snug harbor was found and surveyed near-by our anchorage,
capable of receiving vessels of less than 16 feet draught; this was
named Pauline cove. It would prove a fairly good place for one of the
light-draught steamers going up this year to use as winter-quarters.
The waters between Herschel island and the mainland were found after
examination too full of shoals and sand- and gravel-bars to form a
ship-channel. A rise and fall of tide of three feet was found, and the
ship swung regularly to an ebb and flood.
While the boats were out sounding I went ashore and, climbing nearly to
the top of the island, had a beautiful view of the clear and open water
of Mackenzie bay, to the east and northeast; while to the southeastward
were the islands clustering about the shallow mouth of the Mackenzie,
and directly to the south were the British and Buckland mountains,
merging gradually into the Rocky mountains and the great chains which
form the backbone of the American continent.
The temperature of the water and air was found higher upon this side of
the island, and I have no doubt but that the climate of the vicinity of
Mackenzie bay is materially modified by the comparatively warm water
coming out in great volume from the Mackenzie river. The strong current
running to the northward from the river would naturally sweep the ice
out of the bay and to the northward, as far as the vicinity of
Banksland and the extreme northern Arctic.
Where it goes to and where it ceases is now a matter of conjecture. It
is to be hoped that the drift-floats which were launched by us from
this point, and from various points between here and Herald island, may
contribute something to the solution of this question.
As the chances of being shut in by the ice were easily among the
possibilities to the whalers who were in our company, and with whose
fate our companion the Beluga had joined for the time, the whole
question of supplies and retreat was gone over with the whaling
masters. A retreat up the valley of the Mackenzie, the Porcupine, and
Yukon, seemed feasible, as reindeer were to be found in this vicinity
in the winter months.
As the masters of the whalers would not return with me to the eastward,
I determined to start back, in order to make my westerly cruise with
the sailing fleet. Recalling the boats, we got underway, standing first
to the northeast to put over our first drift-float clear of the tidal
influence of the waters immediately about Herschel island, and in the
open water and northerly current of the Mackenzie. These floats were
made of wood about two feet long and nine inches thick, with the name
of the ship, the date, and the words, _for drift_, cut upon the face.
In a cavity at one end of the float, plugged with soft wood, there was
placed a copper cylinder containing a letter requesting the finder to
inform the U. S. Hydrographic office at Washington, the nearest U. S.
Consul, or the commanding officer of the Thetis, the time and place
where the float was found.
After launching the float upon its unknown journey, a lookout was sent
to the highest masthead: from there it was reported that to the
northward and northeastward there was nothing in sight but open water,
neither ice nor ice-blink was visible, and the western entrance to the
Northwest passage stretched before us invitingly, as clear and as free
as the waters of our own Chesapeake bay. But I had reached my limit,
and turning back, to the regret of many on board, faced once more the
icy sea that lay before us toward Point Barrow and the westward.
The weather, however, was superb, clear, cold, and sunny, during the
day, while in the now darkening shades of the evening for the first
time the moon appeared, silvering most beautifully the chain of
mountains along the coast and the fantastic shapes of the grounded ice.
On the 17th we began to meet and overtake the whalers, who still
delayed in the vicinity of Camden bay, waiting for whales. Five were
passed, some cruising and some fast to the ice-floes. After
communicating with them and informing them of our probable movements,
we kept on to the westward. The ice-conditions were favorable and we
made very good headway, making fast to an ice-floe, off our old
island-friends of the midway group, on the evening of the 17th of
August.
The wind is always a subject of constant watchfulness and anxiety in
this part of the Arctic; it virtually makes the currents and brings
down the ice, or sends it off and clears a narrow lane along the
shore-line. A northerly shift of wind caused a desire to push on, and
passing on we sighted Return reef again and skirted along the long and
narrow island which now bears the name of the Thetis. Passing the mouth
of the Colville we steamed at a good rate of speed through Harrison bay
and found there the wind blowing strong from the west, bringing much
ice with it and accompanied by a cold fog. The outlook being
discouraging I determined to press on for Point Barrow, not very far
distant. The early morning of the 19th of August opened cloudy,
overcast, and cold, with a gale and snow from the westward, the ice
increasing in quantity and size.
There being no protection from the wind this side of Point Barrow, I
ordered full speed so as to get to the point and beyond it before the
almost inevitable shift to the northward which would bring the ice down
and shut us out. The leads between the ice-floes became narrower and
fewer in number, and but little better outlook was found as we edged
inshore as far as the shoal water would allow us to go. At this time we
sighted as many as eight polar bears on the ice, but this was no time
to hunt "bear." Coming to the end of our lead we rammed through some
pack-ice into another one, which, however, again led into water too
shoal for us. Finding from my perch aloft that the ice seemed even
heavier to the west, I determined to stand back to the eastward into
the more open water we had left by the lead we had come through; but it
was too late: this lead had closed and we were prisoners in the pack.
There being no other place to go, I reluctantly selected the largest
pool, or pocket, got out our ice-anchors, and made fast to a heavy
floe, to await further developments. It was found to be in slow motion,
and four times during the night we had to move to avoid the heavy floes
closing in around us. From this time, the 19th, until the morning of
the 24th, we were close prisoners in the heavy pack which had set down
with the wind, now northerly, between Point Barrow and Point Tangent.
In the words of the Ancient Mariner of Coleridge:
"The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around;
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound."
By incessant watchfulness, almost constant movement, vigorous ramming,
faithful working of the engines, and (most important of all) a
favorable shift of wind, the good ship, under Divine Providence,
escaped without damage or accident. Fortunately within easy reach of
land and but twenty-five miles from Point Barrow refuge-station, I had
no undue anxiety for life; but I have no hesitation in stating that the
readiness, endurance, and subordination of the officers and men of the
ship shown in the bringing out of the ship intact from the ice pack,
after nearly five days' imprisonment, entitle them to great credit from
the proper authorities and justify their commanding officer in the
present expression of his high appreciation of their conduct and his
warm feelings toward themselves.
About noon of the 25th of August, after a night of hard ramming, we
anchored off the west side of Point Barrow, greeted by salutes from the
whalers anchored there and by the hearty congratulations of the
masters, who soon came on board and learned for the first time that
Mackenzie Bay had been reached.
We found that the sailing fleet had gone to the westward, after having
been shut in by the ice coming down on Point Barrow and Cape Smyth for
several days, during our absence. The few whalers that remained had
been watching us from their crows' nests during our imprisonment, but
were unable, of course, to afford us any assistance, each ship having
to work out her own salvation: companion-vessels are of great service
only in case of damage or abandonment. Fortunately, the steam-whalers
remaining behind us did not have the pack set down upon them in the
shallow bights in which they were cruising, and the long continued
north-easter which aided us in our escape enabled them to find leads to
get through, not very long after we had escaped. We remained at Point
Barrow for a week until they had all returned, except the two most
easterly ones, left at Herschel island. As their return was so
uncertain, at the end of a week I dropped down to the house of refuge
at Cape Smyth, landing provisions to fill the deficiency in their
stores, and went to the westward, first going to Icy cape to erect a
needed beacon as a warning of the vicinity of Blossom shoals.
Leaving this vicinity on the 5th of September for the northward and
westward, and rounding Blossom shoals, we stood to the north, reaching
the supposed vicinity of the edge of the ice pack that night. As the
nights were now dark we lay-to until morning, when the rapid fall of
the temperature of the water and the lessening wind gave indications of
its proximity, and a half hour's steaming brought us to the rugged
white outline of the pack. Along this we skirted, having reached our
highest north (less than 72° N. latitude).
All of that day and the next we continued our course, sighting a
portion of the sailing fleet of whalers on the 7th. Communicating with
them of our proposed movements and whereabouts during the rest of
September and the beginning of October, we then stood to the westward.
I must not forget to mention an interesting incident that occurred. A
schooner stood down to us from the fleet, and was recognized as the
schooner Jane Grey, picked up by the Thetis when under the command of
my predecessor the previous summer in the ice--abandoned. She had been
righted, pumped out, repaired, and restored to her owner, who had
literally sold his farm and put his all into the vessel. As he came
within hail our notification was given him, but I noticed that he
fairly danced with impatience during its delivery, which was accounted
for at the end of the message by his bringing out his men, who were
gathered behind the foresail, and giving hearty and prolonged cheers
for the Thetis which fairly rang in the silent Arctic air. To this we
responded and then went on our way.
We now left the pack and steered through open water for Herald island,
which we sighted at half past twelve the next day, the 8th of
September; as we approached it closely the bareness and forbidding
appearance, which had been concealed at first sight by the bluish
dimness of the outline, became very marked. Its sides were almost
inaccessible, except from the western end, and it was free from ice, an
almost exceptional state of affairs. In close seasons it is impossible
to reach it, and, even more than Point Barrow, it may be shut out of
the world by ice that refuses to move during the short summer.
[Illustration: Herald Island, bearing about W. by S. (magnetic). From a
photograph by Assistant Paymaster J. Q. Lovell, U. S. N.]
We passed the island late in the afternoon within a comparatively short
distance, standing on to the west with the hope of seeing Wrangel land
before dark. At half past five land was reported ahead from aloft, and
soon the high snowy peaks and mountainous outline of Wrangel land was
sighted from deck. It stood out beautifully in the late Arctic
afternoon, and as we approached it more closely its outline became more
and more fantastic and brilliant. At sunset we were a little over ten
miles distant, and at dark, as we turned to the southeast for Point
Hope, we exchanged hearty congratulations upon our successful passage
from Mackenzie Bay to Wrangel land. Arriving at Point Hope upon the
evening of the 10th of September, we found that many of the hunting
parties had returned from the interior, and preparations were going on
for the winter season.
The natives of Point Hope, like the Eskimos generally of northwestern
Alaska, have no tribal or other form of government except what exists
by control of the head man, oomalik, or chief, whose superiority arises
from his wealth and influence. The previous chief had lived a life that
made him a terror to the community. His rule was by force alone and by
the influence of the rifle, which was his inseparable companion. After
a career distinguished for license, murder and robbery, he had come to
a timely end by being assassinated by the brother of a wife he was
tormenting to death. Since his death, up to the time of our stay in
September, anarchy had prevailed. On account of the very indifferent
treatment received by the survivors of the wrecked whaler "Little Ohio"
from the Eskimos at Point Hope the previous winter, I determined to
appoint a head man or chief who would be charged with the
responsibility and duty of caring for any shipwrecked persons or
destitute whites. Anokolut, who was appointed by me and whose
appointment was afterwards confirmed by the Governor of Alaska, had
married the niece of the previous chief, and was the best whaleman and
hunter of the district. He had been in the employ of the whaling
station established the previous year at Point Hope, and had been
satisfactory in all his dealings with the whites. His wife was a very
superior woman, and their desire for civilized usages was so great that
a bread-pan of tin, some granite-ware bowls, and candles, were given
and eagerly accepted as contributing to make their domestic lives more
comfortable and civilized. An urgent request was made for a
cooking-stove, which I promised to give them if I should return the
following summer.
The Eskimo lamp which serves as a light, and to some extent as a stove,
is a crescent-shaped stone utensil with a shallow trough scooped out;
this is a receptacle for the whale-oil, the wick being some native moss
laid along the edge of the lamp and trimmed from time to time, the
supply of oil being kept up by a lump of blubber suspended over the
lamp. The light being indifferent, candles are welcomed as a great
improvement and a marked relief to the over-taxed eyes of the men and
women during the long nights of the Arctic winter.
During our stay at Point Hope we found much of interest in connection
with the Eskimos living there. Their long winters give them an
opportunity to keep alive their traditions in their daily meetings in
the council-house, and they give an account of their early days in this
wise: In the beginning the people had heads like ravens, with eyes in
the upper part of their breasts. All the world at this time was wrapt
in gloom, with no change of day and night. At that time there lived a
powerful chieftain on top of the highest peak. In his hut were
suspended two balls that were considered very precious and were
therefore carefully guarded. One day, the chief being absent and the
guards asleep, some children who had long admired the beautiful balls
knocked them down with a stick and they rolled across the floor of the
hut and down the side of the mountain. The noise awakened the guards,
who hurried after them, while their extraordinary beauty attracted the
attention of the people, who also rushed after them, a wild struggle
ensuing for their possession; this ended in the breaking of the balls.
Light sprang from one and darkness from the other; these spirits of
light and darkness claimed sole dominion, but, neither yielding, a
compromise was made by which they agreed to an alternate rule. The
violent struggle for the mastery so disturbed the world that the
anatomy of the people and the surface of the earth were both changed.
Light being upon the earth, men began to catch whales in the sea and to
carry the flesh and bones to their mountain-homes. One family wandering
over the country recently risen from the sea came down upon Point Hope:
finding vegetation springing up and whales abundant, they built a hut
and made it their home. From this originated the settlement at Point
Hope. Their modern history goes on in this wise: Point Hope being
favorably situated for whaling and hunting the seal and walrus and for
obtaining the reindeer, it naturally became a center of power and
population. In the latter part of the eighteenth century, as well as
can be determined, the village upon Point Hope, known by the natives as
Tigara, had a population of 2,000 souls, with six council-houses. At
that time the Eskimos residing upon the Noatok, or Inland river, began
to encroach upon the territory of the Tigaramutes until matters came to
the pass that about the beginning of this century a great land- and
boat-fight took place between the Tigaramutes and the Noatokmutes near
Cape Seppings, in which the Tigaramutes were defeated and forced to
yield a large portion of the territory formerly controlled by them. So
crushed were the Tigaramutes that they lost one-half of their
population, which led to the gradual abandonment of all the
out-standing villages. Since this time the population has gradually
decreased, the diminution being materially aided by the contact of
whites, who are principally represented here by the crews of the
whaling ships, rendezvousing during the early summer.
As a rule the Arctic coast Eskimos are short in stature, the average
height of ten men measured at Point Hope being 5 feet 5.8 inches, and
of ten women, 5 feet 2.4 inches. The legs are short in comparison to
the length of the body and are always much bowed, this being due to the
manner in which they are carried in infancy upon their mother's back,
the legs being brought tightly around under the mother's arms. The feet
and hands of the women are generally well shapen and small.
All of the Eskimos have good teeth, but as they are subjected to severe
usage they deteriorate in every way. They are used as substitutes for
pincers, carpenter's vices, and fluting machines. They are used in
drawing bolts, untying knots, holding the mouth-piece of a drill,
shaping boot-soles, and stretching skins. When they become uneven from
constant use in this way, the unevenness is corrected by a levelling
down by means of a file or a whetstone, until they finally reach a
level too low for mechanical purposes.
Between sixteen and twenty-two years of age the male natives have their
lips pierced under each corner of the mouth for labrets.[1] The
incision is made and at first sharp-pointed pieces of ivory are put in;
when the wound heals the hole is gradually stretched by inserting
larger labrets until half an inch in diameter is reached. The poorer
natives wear labrets made of coal, walrus ivory, common gravel, and
glass stoppers which they obtain from ships and adapt to this use. The
stopper of a Worcestershire sauce bottle is very useful for the
purpose. The richer ones have agate labrets, the most valued one,
however, consisting of a white porcelain-like disk 1½ inches wide, in
the center of which is mounted a turquoise nut, hemispherical in shape,
nearly an inch wide, fastened with a spruce gum obtained from the
interior. We could not ascertain where the turquoise or porcelain-like
disk was obtained. The Eskimos say they have always been in the
country, and sell them only with the greatest reluctance.
[Footnote 1: _Labrets_ is the name used along the coast for the
lip-ornaments worn by the natives.]
Tattooing is general among the women, and is apparently a custom of
great antiquity. At the age of six one narrow line is drawn down the
center of the chin from the lower lip downward, powdered charcoal being
used as coloring matter. At twelve years the line is broadened to half
an inch, and a narrow line made parallel to it on each side. But I will
not detain you by giving other particulars.
On the 20th of September the Thetis left Point Hope for the south, the
rugged season of the Arctic ocean having fully set in. Strong winds and
gales from the northeast had compelled us to move from the northern to
the southern side of Point Hope, where better protection and anchorage
had been found. On the 21st of September we passed out of the Arctic
ocean and through Bering Strait, reaching Ounalaska again on the 26th
of September. After remaining there until the beginning of October the
ship returned to Sitka, and after a prolonged stay in the waters of
southeastern Alaska we finally reached the Golden gate of San
Francisco, shortly after midnight on the 7th of December.
The cruise of the Thetis was remarkable in several respects, among
others in that, thanks to the open season, her stanch build, and
successful battling with the ice-pack, she was enabled to reach
Mackenzie bay, in British North America, the first government vessel to
carry the American flag in those waters. She also made the long stretch
from Mackenzie bay to Herald island and Wrangel land in one season,
never before done, and she had the honor of being the first vessel of
any kind to follow the entire main coast line of Alaska from Port
Tongass, in extreme southeastern Alaska, to Demarcation point, in the
Arctic ocean.
THE LAW OF STORMS, CONSIDERED WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE NORTH
ATLANTIC.