CHAPTER VII.

Some Remarks upon the loss of the Fury—And on the Natural History, &c.,

of the Coast of North Somerset—Arrive at Neill’s Harbour—Death of John

Page—Leave Neill’s Harbour—Recross the Ice in Baffin’s Bay—Heavy

Gales—Aurora Borealis—Temperature of the Sea—Arrival in England.

The accident which had now befallen the _Fury_, and which, when its fatal

result was finally ascertained, at once put an end to every prospect of

success in the main object of this voyage, is not an event which will

excite surprise in the minds of those who are either personally

acquainted with the true nature of this precarious navigation, or have

had patience to follow me through the tedious and monotonous detail of

our operations during seven successive summers. To any persons thus

qualified to judge it will be plain that an occurrence of this nature was

at all times rather to be expected than otherwise, and that the only real

cause for wonder has been our long exemption from such a catastrophe. I

can confidently affirm, and I trust that on such an occasion I may be

permitted to make the remark, that the mere safety of the ships has never

been more than a secondary object in the conduct of the expeditions under

my command. To push forward while there was any open water to enable us

to do so has uniformly been our first endeavour; it has not been until

the channel has actually terminated that we have ever been accustomed to

look for a place of shelter, to which the ships were then conducted with

all possible despatch; and I may safely venture to predict that no ship

acting otherwise will ever accomplish the Northwest Passage. On numerous

occasions, which will easily recur to the memory of those I have had the

honour to command, the ships might easily have been placed among the ice

and left to drift with it in comparative, if not absolute, security, when

the holding them on has been preferred, though attended with hourly and

imminent peril. This was precisely the case on the present occasion; the

ships might certainly have been pushed into the ice a day or two, or even

a week beforehand, and thus preserved from all risk of being forced on

shore; but where they would have been drifted, and when they would have

been again disengaged from the ice, or at liberty to take advantage of

the occasional openings in-shore (by which alone the navigation of these

seas is to be performed with any degree of certainty), I believe it

impossible for any one to form the most distant idea. Such, then, being

the necessity for constant and unavoidable risk, it cannot reasonably

excite surprise that on a single occasion out of so many in which the

same accident seemed, as it were, impending, it should actually have

taken place.

The ice we met with after leaving Port Bowen, previously to the _Fury’s_

disaster, and for some days after, I consider to have been much the

lightest as well as the most broken we have ever had to contend with.

During the time we were shut up at our last station near the _Fury_, one

or two floes of very large dimensions drifted past us; and these were of

that heavy “hummocky” kind which we saw off Cape Kater in the beginning

of August, 1819. On the whole, however, Mr. Allison and myself had

constant occasion to remark the total absence of floes, and the unusual

lightness of the other ice. We thought, indeed, that this latter

circumstance might account for its being almost incessantly in motion on

this coast; for heavy ice, when once it is pressed home upon the shore,

and has ceased to move, generally remains quiet, until a change of wind

or tide makes it slacken. But with lighter ice, the frequent breaking

and doubling of the parts which sustain the strain, whenever any increase

of pressure takes place, will set the whole body once more in motion till

the space is again filled up. This was so often the case while our ships

lay in the most exposed situations on this unsheltered coast, that we

were never relieved for a moment from the apprehension of some new and

increased pressure.

The summer of 1825 was, beyond all doubt, the warmest and most favourable

we had experienced since that of 1818. Not more than two or three days

occurred, during the months of July and August, in which that heavy fall

of snow took place which so commonly converts the aspect of Nature in

these regions, in a single hour, from the cheerfulness of summer into the

dreariness of winter. Indeed, we experienced very little either of snow,

rain, or fog; vegetation, wherever the soil allowed any to spring up, was

extremely luxuriant and forward; a great deal of the old snow which had

laid on the ground during the last season was rapidly dissolving even

early in August; and every appearance of Nature exhibited a striking

contrast with the last summer, while it seemed evidently to furnish an

extraordinary compensation for its rigour and inclemency.

We have scarcely ever visited a coast on which so little of animal life

occurs. For days together, only one or two seals, a single sea-horse,

and now and then a flock of ducks, were seen. I have already mentioned,

however, as an exception to this scarcity of animals, the numberless

kittiwakes which were flying about the remarkable spout of water; and we

were one day visited, at the place where the _Fury_ was left, by hundreds

of white whales sporting about in the shoal water close to the beach. No

black whales were ever seen on this coast. Two reindeer were observed by

the gentlemen who extended their walks inland; but this was the only

summer in which we did not procure a single pound of venison. Indeed,

the whole of our supplies obtained in this way during the voyage,

including fish, flesh, and fowl, did not exceed twenty pounds per man.

During the time that we were made fast upon this coast, in which

situation alone observations on current can be satisfactorily made, it is

certain that the ice was setting to the southward, and sometimes at a

rapid rate, full seven days out of every ten on an average. Had I now

witnessed this for the first time in these seas, I should probably have

concluded that there was a constant southerly set at this season; but the

experience we had before obtained of that superficial current which every

breeze of wind creates in a sea encumbered with ice, coupled with the

fact that while this set was noticed we had an almost continual

prevalence of northerly winds, inclines me to believe that it was to be

attributed—chiefly at least—to this circumstance, especially as, on one

or two occasions, with rather a light breeze from the southward, the ice

did set slowly in the opposite direction. It is not by a few unconnected

observations that a question of this kind is to be settled, as the facts

noticed during our detention near the west end of Melville Island in 1820

will abundantly testify; every light air of wind producing, in half an

hour’s time, an extraordinary change of current setting at an incredible

rate along the land.

The existence of these variable and irregular currents adds, of course,

very much to the difficulty of determining the true direction of the

flood-tide, the latter being generally much the weaker of the two, and

therefore either wholly counteracted by the current, or simply tending to

accelerate it. On this account, though I attended very carefully to the

subject of the tides, I cannot pretend to say for certain from what

direction the flood-tide comes on this coast; the impression on my mind,

however, has been, upon the whole, in favour of its flowing from the

southward. The time of high water on the full and change days of the

moon is from half-past eleven to twelve o’clock, being nearly the same as

at Port Bowen; but the tides are so irregular at times, that in the space

of three days the retardation will occasionally not amount to an hour. I

observed, however, that, as the days of full and change, or of the moon’s

quarter approached, the irregularity was corrected, and the time

rectified, by some tide of extraordinary duration. The mean rise and

fall was about six feet.

The weather continuing nearly calm during the 26th, and the ice keeping

at the distance of several miles from the land, gave us an opportunity of

clearing our decks, and stowing the things belonging to the _Fury’s_ crew

more comfortably for their accommodation and convenience. I now felt

more sensibly than ever the necessity I have elsewhere pointed out, of

both ships employed on this kind of service being of the same size,

equipped in the same manner, and alike efficient in every respect. The

way in which we had been able to apply every article for assisting to

heave the _Fury_ down, without the smallest doubt or selection as to size

or strength, proved an excellent practical example of the value of being

thus able, at a moment’s warning, to double the means and resources of

either ship in case of necessity. In fact, by this arrangement, nothing

but a harbour to secure the ships was wanted, to have completed the whole

operation in as effectual a manner as in a dockyard; for not a shore, or

outrigger, or any other precaution was omitted, that is usually attended

to on such occasions, and all as good and effective as could anywhere

have been desired. The advantages were now scarcely less conspicuous in

the accommodation of the officers and men, who in a short time became

little less comfortable than in their own ship; whereas, in a smaller

vessel, comfort, to say nothing of health, would have been quite out of

the question. Having thus experienced the incalculable benefit of the

establishment composing this expedition, I am anxious to repeat my

conviction of the advantages that will always be found to attend it in

the equipment of any two ships intended for discovery.

A little snow, which had fallen in the course of the last two or three

days, now remained upon the land, lightly powdering the higher parts,

especially those having a northern aspect, and creating a much more

wintry sensation than the large broad patches or drifts, which, on all

tolerably high land in these regions, remain undissolved during the whole

of each successive summer. With the exception of a few such patches here

and there, the whole of this coast was now free from snow before the

middle of August.

A breeze from the northward freshening up strong on the 27th, we

stretched over to the eastern shore of Prince Regent’s Inlet, and this

with scarcely any obstruction from ice. We could, indeed, scarcely

believe this the same sea which, but a few weeks before, had been loaded

with one impenetrable body of closely packed ice from shore to shore, and

as far as the eye could discern to the southward. We found this land

rather more covered with the newly fallen snow than that to the westward;

but there was no ice, except the grounded masses, anywhere along the

shore. Having a great deal of heavy work to do in the re-stowage of the

holds which could not well be accomplished at sea, and also a quantity of

water to fill for our increased complement, I determined to take

advantage of our fetching the entrance of Neill’s Harbour to put in here,

in order to prepare the ship completely for crossing the Atlantic. I was

desirous also of ascertaining the depth of water in this place, which was

wanting to complete Lieutenant Sherer’s survey of it. At one P.M.,

therefore, after communicating to the officers and ships’ companies my

intention to return to England, I left the ship, accompanied by

Lieutenant Sherer in a second boat, to obtain the necessary soundings for

conducting the ship to the anchorage, and to lay down a buoy in the

proper berth. Finding the harbour an extremely convenient one for our

purpose, we worked the ship in, and at four P.M. anchored in thirteen

fathoms, but afterwards shifted out to eighteen on a bottom of soft mud.

Almost at the moment of our dropping the anchor, John Page, seaman of the

_Fury_, departed this life; he had for several months been affected with

a scrofulous disorder, and had been gradually sinking for some time.

The funeral of the deceased took place after Divine service had been

performed on the 28th; the body being followed to the grave by a

procession of all the officers, seamen, and marines of both ships, and

every solemnity observed which the occasion demanded. The grave is

situated near the beach close to the anchorage, and a board was placed at

the head as a substitute for a tombstone, having on it a copper-plate

with the usual inscription.

This duty being performed, we immediately commenced landing the casks and

filling water; but notwithstanding the large streams which, a short time

before, had been running into the harbour, we could hardly obtain enough

for our purpose by sinking a cask with holes in it. I have no doubt that

this rapid dissolution of all the snow on land so high as this, was the

result of an unusually warm summer. This work, together with the entire

re-stowage of all the holds, occupied the whole of the 29th and 30th;

during which time Lieutenant Sherer was employed in completing the survey

of the harbour, more especially the soundings, which the presence of ice

had before prevented. These arrangements had just been completed when

the north-easterly wind died away, and was succeeded on the morning of

the 31st by a light air from the north-west. As soon as we had sent to

ascertain that the sea was clear of ice on the outside, and that the

breeze which blew in the harbour was the true one, we weighed and stood

out, and before noon had cleared the shoals at the entrance.

Neill’s Harbour, the only one on this eastern coast of Prince Regent’s

Inlet, except Port Bowen, to which it is far superior, corresponds with

one of the apparent openings seen at a distance in 1819, and marked on

the chart of that voyage as a “valley or bay.” We found it not merely a

convenient place of shelter but a most excellent harbour, with sufficient

space for a great number of ships, and holding-ground of the best

quality, consisting of a tenacious mud of a greenish colour, in which the

flukes of an anchor are entirely embedded. A great deal of the anchoring

ground is entirely land-locked, and some shoal points which narrow the

entrance would serve to break off any heavy sea from the eastward. The

depth of water in most parts is greater than could be wished, but several

good berths are pointed out in the accompanying survey made by Lieutenant

Sherer. The beach on the west side is a fine bold one, with four fathoms

within twenty yards of low water mark, and consists of small pebbles of

limestone. The formation of the rocks about the harbour is so similar to

that of Port Bowen that no description of them is necessary. The harbour

may best be known by its latitude; by the very remarkable flat-topped

hill eight miles south of it, which I have named after Lieutenant Sherer

who observed its latitude; by the high cliffs on the south side of the

entrance, and the comparative low land on the north. The high land is

the more peculiar, as consisting of that very regular horizontal

stratification appearing to be supported by buttresses, which

characterises a large portion of the western shore of Prince Regent’s

Inlet, but is not seen on any part of this coast so well marked as here.

It is a remarkable circumstance, and such as, I believe, very rarely

occurs, that from the point of this land forming the entrance of the

harbour to the southward, and where the cliffs rise at once to a

perpendicular height of not less than five or six hundred feet, a shoal

stretches off to the distance of one-third of a mile, having from three

to eight fathoms upon it. I have reason to think indeed that there is

not more than from ten to fourteen fathoms anywhere across between this

and the low point on the other side, thus forming a sort of bar, though

the depth of water is much more than sufficient for any ship to pass

over. The latitude of Neill’s Harbour is 73° 09′ 08″; the longitude by

chronometers 89° 01′ 20″.8; the dip of the magnetic needle 88° 08′.25,

and the variation 118° 48′ westerly.

I have been thus particular in describing Neill’s Harbour, because I am

of opinion that at no very distant period the whalers may find it of

service. The western coast of Baffin’s Bay, now an abundant fishery,

will probably, like most others, fail in a few years; for the whales will

always in the course of time leave a place where they continue year after

year to be molested. In that case, Prince Regent’s Inlet will

undoubtedly become a rendezvous for our ships, as well on account of the

numerous fish there, as the facility with which any ship, having once

crossed the ice in Baffin’s Bay, is sure to reach it during the months of

July and August. We saw nine or ten black whales the evening of our

arrival in Neill’s Harbour; these, like most observed hereabouts, and I

believe on the western coast of Baffin’s Bay generally, were somewhat

below the middle size.

Finding the wind at north-west in Prince Regent’s Inlet, we were barely

able to lie along the eastern coast. As the breeze freshened in the

course of the day, a great deal of loose ice in extensive streams and

patches came drifting down from the Leopold Islands, occasioning us some

trouble in picking our way to the northward. By carrying a press of

sail, however, we were enabled, towards night, to get into clearer water,

and by four A.M. on the 1st of September, having beat to windward of a

compact body of ice which had fixed itself on the lee shore about Cape

York, we soon came into a perfectly open sea in Barrow’s Strait, and were

enabled to bear away to the eastward. We now considered ourselves

fortunate in having got out of harbour when we did, as the ice would

probably have filled up every inlet on that shore in a few hours after we

left it.

The wind heading us from the eastward on the 2nd, with fog and wet

weather, obliged us to stretch across the Sound, in doing which we had

occasion to remark the more than usual number of icebergs that occurred

in this place, which was abreast of Navy Board Inlet. Many of these were

large and of the long flat kind, which appear to me to be peculiar to the

western coast of Baffin’s Bay. I have no doubt that this more than usual

quantity of icebergs in Sir James Lancaster’s Sound was to be attributed

to the extraordinary prevalence and strength of the easterly winds during

this summer, which would drive them from the eastern parts of Baffin’s

Bay. They now occurred in the proportion of at least four for one that

we had ever before observed here.

Being again favoured with a fair wind, we now stretched to the eastward,

still in an open sea; and our curiosity was particularly excited to see

the present situation of the ice in the middle of Baffin’s Bay, and to

compare it with that in 1824. This comparison we were enabled to make

the more fairly, because the season at which we might expect to come to

it coincided, within three or four days, with that in which we left it

the preceding year. The temperature of the sea-water now increased to

38°, soon after leaving the Sound, where it had generally been from 33°

to 35°, whereas at the same season last year it rose no higher than 32°

anywhere in the neighbourhood, and remained even so high as that only for

a very short time. This circumstance seemed to indicate the total

absence of ice from those parts of the sea which had last autumn been

wholly covered by it. Accordingly, on the 5th, being thirty miles beyond

the spot in which we had before contended with numerous difficulties from

ice, not a piece was to be seen, except one or two solitary bergs; and it

was not till the following day, in latitude 72° 45′, and longitude 64°

44′, or about one hundred and twenty-seven miles to the eastward of where

we made our escape on the 9th of September, 1824, that we fell in with a

body of ice so loose and open as scarcely to oblige us to alter our

course for it. At three P.M. on the 7th, being in latitude 72° 30′, and

longitude 60° 05′, and having, in the course of eighty miles that we had

run through it, only made a single tack, we came to the margin of the

ice, and got into an open sea on its eastern side. In the whole course

of this distance the ice was so much spread, that it would not, if at all

closely “packed,” have occupied one-third of the same space. There were

at this time thirty-nine bergs in sight, and some of them certainly not

less than two hundred feet in height.

The narrowness and openness of the ice at this season, between the

parallels of 73° and 74°, when compared with its extent and closeness

about the same time the preceding year, was a decided confirmation, if

any were wanting, that the summer of 1824 was extremely unfavourable for

penetrating to the westward about the usual latitudes. How it had proved

elsewhere we could not of course conjecture, till, on the 8th, being in

latitude 71° 55′, longitude 60° 30′, and close to the margin of the ice,

we fell in with the _Alfred_, _Ellison_, and _Elizabeth_, whalers of

Hull, all running to the northward, even at this season, to look for

whales. From them we learned that the _Ellison_ was one of the two ships

we saw, when beset in the “pack” on the 18th July, 1824; and that they

were then, as we had conjectured, on their return from the northward, in

consequence of having failed in effecting a passage to the westward. The

master of the _Ellison_ informed us that, after continuing their course

along the margin of the ice to the southward, they at length passed

through it to the western land without any difficulty, in the latitude of

68° to 69°. Many other ships had also crossed about the same parallels,

even in three or four days; but none, it seemed, had succeeded in doing

so, as usual, to the northward. Thus it plainly appeared (and I need not

hesitate to confess that to me the information was satisfactory) that our

bad success in pushing across the ice in Baffin’s Bay in 1824, had been

caused by circumstances neither to be foreseen nor controlled; namely, by

a particular position of the ice, which, according to the best

information I have been able to collect, has never before occurred during

the only six years that it has been customary for the whalers to cross

this ice at all, and which, therefore, in all probability, will seldom

occur again.

If we seek for a cause for the ice thus hanging with more than ordinary

tenacity to the northward, the comparative coldness of the season

indicated by our meteorological observations may perhaps be considered

sufficient to furnish it. For as the annual clearing of the northern

parts of Baffin’s Bay depends entirely on the time of the disruption of

the ice, and the rate at which it is afterwards drifted to the southward

by the excess of northerly winds, any circumstance tending to retain it

in the bays and inlets to a later period than usual, and subsequently to

hold it together in large floes, which drive more slowly than smaller

masses, would undoubtedly produce the effect in question. There is, at

all events, one useful practical inference to be drawn from what has been

stated, which is that, though perhaps in a considerable majority of years

a northern latitude may prove the most favourable for crossing in, yet

seasons will sometimes intervene in which it will be a matter of great

uncertainty whereabouts to make the attempt with the best hope of

success.

As the whaling ships were not homeward bound, having as yet had

indifferent success in the fishery, I did not consider it necessary to

send despatches by them. After an hour’s communication with them, and

obtaining such information of a public nature as could not fail to be

highly interesting to us, we made sail to the southward: while we

observed them lying-to for some time after, probably to consult

respecting the unwelcome information with which we had furnished them as

to the whales, not one of which, by some extraordinary chance, we had

seen since leaving Neill’s Harbour. As this circumstance was entirely

new to us, it seems not unlikely that the whales are already beginning to

shift their ground, in consequence of the increased attacks which have

been made upon them of late years in that neighbourhood.

On the 10th we had an easterly wind, which, gradually freshening to a

gale, drew up the Strait from the southward, and blew strong for

twenty-four hours from that quarter. In the course of the night, and

while lying-to under the storm-sails, an iceberg was discovered, by its

white appearance, under our lee. The main-topsail being thrown aback we

were enabled to drop clear of this immense body, which would have been a

dangerous neighbour in a heavy seaway. The wind moderated on the 11th,

but on the following day another gale came on, which for nine or ten

hours blew in most tremendous gusts from the same quarter, and raised a

heavy sea. We happily came near no ice during the night, or it would

scarcely have been possible to keep the ship clear of it. It abated

after daylight on the 13th, but continued to blow an ordinary gale for

twelve hours longer. It was remarkable that the weather was extremely

clear overhead during the whole of this last gale, which is very unusual

here with a southerly wind. Being favoured with a northerly breeze on

the 15th we began to make some way to the southward. From nine A.M. to

one P.M. a change of temperature in the sea water took place from 37° to

33°. This circumstance seemed to indicate our approach to some ice

projecting to the eastward beyond the straight and regular margin of the

“pack,” which was at this time not in sight. The indication proved

correct and useful; for after passing several loose pieces of ice during

the night, on the morning of the 15th, just at daybreak, we came to a

considerable body of it, through which we continued to run to the

southward. We were now in latitude 68° 56′, and in longitude 58° 27′, in

which situation a great many bergs were in sight, and apparently aground.

We ran through this ice, which was very heavy, but loose and much broken

up, the whole day; when having sailed fifty-three miles S.S.E., and

appearances being the same as ever, we hauled to the E.S.E., to endeavour

to get clear before dark, which we were just enabled to effect after a

run of thirty miles in that direction, and then bore up to the southward.

After this we saw but one iceberg and one heavy loose piece previous to

our clearing Davis’s Strait.

On the 17th at noon we had passed to the southward of the Arctic Circle,

and from this latitude to that of about 58° we had favourable winds and

weather; but we remarked on this, as on several other occasions during

this season, that a northerly breeze, contrary to ordinary observation,

brought more moisture with it than any other. In the course of this run

we also observed more drift-wood than we had ever done before, which I

thought might possibly be owing to the very great prevalence of easterly

winds this season driving it further from the coast of Greenland than

usual. We saw very large flocks of kittiwakes, some of the whales called

finners, and, as we supposed, a few also of the black kind, together with

multitudes of porpoises.

On the morning of the 24th, notwithstanding the continuance of a

favourable breeze, we met, in the latitude of 58½°, so heavy a swell from

the north-eastward as to make the ship labour violently for

four-and-twenty hours. The northerly wind then dying away was succeeded

by a light air from the eastward with constant rain. A calm then

followed for several hours, causing the ship to roll heavily in the

hollow of the sea. On the morning of the 25th we had again an easterly

wind, which in a few hours reduced us to the close-reefed topsails and

reefed courses. At eight P.M. it freshened to a gale, which brought us

under the main-topsail and storm-staysails, and at seven the following

morning it increased to a gale of such violence from N.E.b.N. as does not

very often occur at sea in these latitudes. The gusts were at times so

tremendous as to set the sea quite in a foam, and threatened to tear the

sails out of the bolt-ropes. It abated a little for four hours in the

evening, but from nine P.M. till two the following morning blew with as

great violence as before, with a high sea, and very heavy rain;

constituting altogether as inclement weather as can well be conceived for

about eighteen hours. The wind gradually drew to the westward, with dry

weather, after the gale began to abate, and at six A.M. we were enabled

to bear up and run to the eastward with a strong gale at north-west.

The indications of the barometer previous to and during this gale deserve

to be noticed, because it is only about Cape Farewell that, in coming

from the northward down Davis’s Strait, this instrument begins to speak a

language which has ever been intelligible to us as a weather-glass. As

it is also certain that a “stormy spirit” resides in the neighbourhood of

this headland, no less than in that of more famed ones to the south, it

may become a matter of no small practical utility for ships passing it,

especially in the autumn, to attend to the oscillations of the mercurial

column. It is with this impression alone that I have detailed the

otherwise uninteresting circumstances of the inclement weather we now

experienced here; and which was accompanied by the following indications

of the barometer. On the 24th, notwithstanding the change of wind from

north to east, the mercury rose from 29.51 on that morning, to 29.72 at

three A.M. the following day, but fell to 29.39 by nine P.M., with the

strong but not violent breeze then blowing. After this it continued to

descend very gradually, and had reached 28.84, which was its minimum, at

three P.M. on the 26th, after which it continued to blow tremendously

hard for eleven or twelve hours, the mercury uniformly though slowly

ascending to 28.95 during that interval, and afterwards to 29.73 as the

weather became moderate and fine in the course of the three following

days.

After this gale the atmosphere seemed to be quite cleared, and we enjoyed

a week of such remarkably fine weather as seldom occurs at this season of

the year. We had then a succession of strong southerly winds, but were

enabled to continue our progress to the eastward, so as to make Mould

Head, towards the north-west end of the Orkney Islands, at daylight on

the 10th of October; and the wind becoming more westerly we rounded North

Ronaldsha Island at noon, and then shaped a course for Buchaness.

In running down Davis’s Strait, as well as in crossing the Atlantic, we

saw on this passage as well as in all our former autumnal ones, a good

deal of the Aurora Borealis. It first began to display itself on the

15th of September, about the latitude of 69½°, appearing in the (true)

south-east quarter as a bright luminous patch five or six degrees above

the horizon, almost stationary for two or three hours together, but

frequently altering its intensity, and occasionally sending up vivid

streamers towards the zenith. It appeared in the same manner on several

subsequent nights in the south-west, west, and east quarters of the

heavens; and on the 20th a bright arch of it passed across the zenith

from S.E. to N.W., appearing to be very close to the ship, and affording

so strong a light as to throw the shadow of objects on the deck. The

next brilliant display, however, of this beautiful phenomenon which we

now witnessed, and which far surpassed anything of the kind observed at

Port Bowen, occurred on the night of the 24th of September, in latitude

58½°, longitude 44½°. It first appeared in a (true) east direction, in

detached masses like luminous clouds of yellow or sulphur-coloured light,

about three degrees above the horizon. When this appearance had

continued for about an hour, it began at nine P.M. to spread upwards, and

gradually extended itself into a narrow band of light passing through the

zenith and again downwards to the western horizon. Soon after this the

streams of light seemed no longer to emanate from the eastward, but from

a fixed point about one degree above the horizon on a true west bearing.

From this point, as from the narrow point of a funnel, streams of light,

resembling brightly illuminated vapour or smoke, appeared to be

incessantly issuing, increasing in breadth as they proceeded, and darting

with inconceivable velocity, such as the eye could scarcely keep pace

with, upwards towards the zenith, and in the same easterly direction

which the former arch had taken. The sky immediately under the spot from

which the light issued appeared, by a deception very common in this

phenomenon, to be covered with a dark cloud, whose outline the

imagination might at times convert into that of the summit of a mountain,

from which the light proceeded like the flames of a volcano. The streams

of light as they were projected upwards did not consist of continuous

vertical columns or streamers, but almost entirely of separate, though

constantly renewed masses, which seemed to roll themselves laterally

onward with a sort of undulating motion, constituting what I have

understood to be meant by that modification of the Aurora called the

“merry dancers,” which is seen in beautiful perfection at the Shetland

Islands. The general colour of the light was yellow, but an orange and a

greenish tinge were at times very distinctly perceptible, the intensity

of the light and colours being always the greatest when occupying the

smallest space. Thus the lateral margins of the band or arch seemed at

times to roll themselves inwards so as to approach each other, and in

this case the light just at the edges became much more vivid than the

rest. The intensity of light during the brightest part of the

phenomenon, which continued three-quarters of an hour, could scarcely be

inferior to that of the moon when full.

We once more remarked in crossing the Atlantic that the Aurora often gave

a great deal of light at night, even when the sky was entirely overcast,

and it was on that account impossible to say from what part of the

heavens the light proceeded, though it was often fully equal to that

afforded by the moon in her quarters. This was rendered particularly

striking on the night of the 5th of October, in consequence of the

frequent and almost instantaneous changes which took place in this way,

the weather being rather dark and gloomy, but the sky at times so

brightly illuminated, almost in an instant, as to give quite as much

light as the full moon similarly clouded, and enabling one distinctly to

recognise persons from one end of the ship to the other. We did not on

any one occasion perceive the compasses to be affected by the Aurora

Borealis.

As we approached the Orkneys, I demanded from the officers, in compliance

with my instructions from my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, all

the logs, journals, drawings, and charts, which had been made during the

voyage. After rounding the north end of the Orkneys on the 10th of

October, we were on the 12th met by a strong southerly wind when off

Peterhead. I, therefore, immediately landed (for the second time) at

that place; and, setting off without delay for London, arrived at the

Admiralty on the 16th.

Notwithstanding the ill success which had attended our late efforts, it

may in some degree be imagined what gratification I experienced at this

time in seeing the whole of the _Hecla’s_ crew, and also those of the

_Fury_ (with the two exceptions already mentioned), return to their

native country in as good health as when they left it eighteen months

before. The _Hecla_ arrived at Sheerness on the 20th of October, where

she was detained for a few days for the purpose of Captain Hoppner, his

officers, and ship’s company, being put upon their trial (according to

the customary and indispensable rule in such cases) for the loss of the

_Fury_; when, it is scarcely necessary to add, they received an

honourable acquittal. The _Hecla_ then proceeded to Woolwich, and was

paid off on the 21st of November.

ACCOUNT OF THE ESQUIMAUX OF MELVILLE PENINSULA AND THE ADJOINING ISLANDS,

More particularly of Winter Island and Igloolik.

The number of individuals composing the tribe of Esquimaux assembled at

Winter Island and Igloolik was two hundred and nineteen, of whom

sixty-nine were men, seventy-seven women, and seventy-three children.

Two or three of the men, from their appearance and infirmities, as well

as from the age of their children, must have been near seventy; the rest

were from twenty to about fifty. The majority of the women were

comparatively young, or from twenty to five-and-thirty, and three or four

only seemed to have reached sixty. Of the children, about one-third were

under four years old, and the rest from that age upwards to sixteen or

seventeen. Out of one hundred and fifty-five individuals who passed the

winter at Igloolik, we knew of eighteen deaths and of only nine births.

The stature of these people is much below that of Europeans in general.

One man, who was unusually tall, measured five feet ten inches, and the

shortest was only four feet eleven inches and a half. Of twenty

individuals of each sex measured at Igloolik, the range was:—

Men.—From 5 ft. 10 in. to 4 ft. 11 in. The average height, 5 ft. 5⅓ in.

Women.—From 5 ft. 3½ in. to 4 ft. 8¾ in. The average height, 5 ft. ½in.

The women, however, generally appear shorter than they really are, both

from the unwieldy nature of their clothes and from a habit, which they

early acquire, of stooping considerably forward in order to balance the

weight of the child they carry in their hood.

In their figure they are rather well-formed than otherwise. Their knees

are indeed rather large in proportion, but their legs are straight, and

the hands and feet, in both sexes, remarkably small. The younger

individuals were all plump, but none of them corpulent; the women

inclined the most to this last extreme, and their flesh was, even in the

youngest individuals, quite loose and without firmness.

Their faces are generally round and full, eyes small and black, nose also

small and sunk far in between the cheek bones, but not much flattened.

It is remarkable that one man, _Tē-ă_, his brother, his wife, and two

daughters had good Roman noses, and one of the latter was an extremely

pretty young woman. Their teeth are short, thick, and close, generally

regular, and in the young persons almost always white. The elderly women

were still well furnished in this way, though their teeth were usually a

good deal worn down, probably by the habit of chewing the seal-skins for

making boots.

In the young of both sexes the complexion is clear and transparent, and

the skin smooth. The colour of the latter, when divested of oil and

dirt, is scarcely a shade darker than that of a deep brunette, so that

the blood is plainly perceptible when it mounts into the cheeks. In the

old folks, whose faces were much wrinkled, the skin appears of a much

more dingy hue, the dirt being less easily, and therefore less

frequently, dislodged from them. Besides the smallness of their eyes,

there are two peculiarities in this feature common to almost all of them.

The first consists in the eye not being horizontal as with us, but coming

much lower at the end next the nose than at the other. Of the second an

account by Mr. Edwards will be given in another place.

By whatever peculiarities, however, they may in general be distinguished,

they are by no means ill-looking people; and there were among them three

or four grown-up persons of each sex who, when divested of their

skin-dresses, their tattooing, and, above all, of their dirt, might have

been considered pleasing-looking, if not handsome, people in any town in

Europe. This remark applies more generally to the children also; several

of whom had complexions nearly as fair as that of Europeans, and whose

little bright black eyes gave a fine expression to their countenances.

The hair both of males and females is black, glossy, and straight. The

men usually wear it rather long, and allow it to hang about their heads

in a loose and slovenly manner. A few of the younger men, and especially

those who had been about the shores of the _Welcome_, had it cut straight

upon the forehead, and two or three had a circular patch upon the crown

of the head, where the hair was quite short and thin, somewhat after the

manner of Capuchin friars. The women pride themselves extremely on the

length and thickness of their hair; and it was not without reluctance on

their part, and the same on that of their husbands, that they were

induced to dispose of any of it. When inclined to be neat they separate

their locks into two equal parts, one of which hangs on each side of

their heads and in front of their shoulders. To stiffen and bind these

they use a narrow strap of deerskin attached at one end to a round piece

of bone, fourteen inches long, tapered to a point, and covered over with

leather. This looks like a little whip, the handle of which is placed up

and down the hair, and the strap wound round it in a number of spiral

turns, making the tail thus equipped very much resemble one of those

formerly worn by our seamen. The strap of this article of dress, which

is altogether called a _tŏglēēgă_, is so made from the deerskin as to

show, when bound round the hair, alternate turns of white and dark fur,

which give it a very neat and ornamental appearance. On ordinary

occasions it is considered slovenly not to have the hair thus dressed,

and the neatest of the women never visited the ships without it. Those

who are less nice dispose their hair into a loose plait on each side, or

have one _tŏglēēgă_ and one plait; and others again, wholly disregarding

the business of the toilet, merely tucked their hair in under the breast

of their jackets. Some of the women’s hair was tolerably fine, but would

not in this respect bear a comparison with that of an Englishwoman. In

both sexes it is full of vermin, which they are in the constant habit of

picking out and eating; a man and his wife will sit for an hour together

performing for each other that friendly office. The women have a comb,

which, however, seems more intended for ornament than use, as we seldom

or never observed them comb their hair. When a woman’s husband is ill

she wears her hair loose, and cuts it off as a sign of mourning if he

dies—a custom agreeing with that of the Greenlanders. It is probable

also, from what has been before said, that some opprobrium is attached to

the loss of a woman’s hair when no such occasion demands this sacrifice.

The men wear the hair on the upper lip and chin, from an inch to an inch

and a half in length, and some were distinguished by a little tuft

between the chin and lower lip.

The dresses both of male and female are composed almost entirely of

deer-skin, in which respect they differ from those of most Esquimaux

before met with. In the form of the dress they vary very little from

those so repeatedly described. The jacket, which is close, but not

tight, all round, comes as low as the hips, and has sleeves reaching to

the wrist. In that of the women, the tail or flap behind is very broad,

and so long as almost to touch the ground; while a shorter and narrower

one before reaches half-way down the thigh. The men have also a tail in

the hind part of their jacket, but of smaller dimensions; but before it

is generally straight or ornamented by a single scollop. The hood of the

jacket, which forms the only covering for their head, is much the largest

in that of the women, for the purpose of holding a child. The back of

the jacket also bulges out in the middle to give the child a footing, and

a strap or girdle below this, and secured round the waist by two large

wooden buttons in front, prevents the infant from falling through, when,

the hood being in use, it is necessary thus to deposit it. The sleeves

of the women’s jackets are made more square and loose about the shoulders

than those of the men, for the convenience, as we understood, of more

readily depositing a child in the hood; and they have a habit of slipping

their arms out of them, and keeping them in contact with their bodies for

the sake of warmth, just as we do with our fingers in our gloves in very

cold weather.

In winter every individual, when in the open air, wears two jackets, of

which the outer one (_Cāppĕ-tēggă_) has the hair outside, and the inner

one (_Attēēgă_) next the body. Immediately on entering the hut the men

take off their outer jacket, beat the snow from it, and lay it by. The

upper garment of the females, besides being cut according to a regular

and uniform pattern, and sewed with exceeding neatness, which is the case

with all the dresses of these people, has also the flaps ornamented in a

very becoming manner by a neat border of deer-skin, so arranged as to

display alternate breadths of white and dark fur. This is, moreover,

usually beautified by a handsome fringe, consisting of innumerable long

narrow threads of leather hanging down from it. This ornament is not

uncommon also in the outer jackets of the men. When seal-hunting they

fasten up the tails of their jackets with a button behind.

Their breeches, of which in winter they also wear two pairs, and

similarly disposed as to the fur, reach below the knee, and fasten with a

string drawn tight round the waist. Though these have little or no

waist-band, and do not come very high, the depth of the jackets, which

considerably overlap them, serves very effectually to complete the

covering of the body.

Their legs and feet are so well clothed, that no degree of cold can well

affect them. When a man goes on a sealing excursion he first puts on a

pair of deer-skin boots (_Allĕktēēgă_) with the hair inside and reaching

to the knee, where they tie. Over these come a pair of shoes of the same

material; next a pair of dressed seal-skin boots perfectly water-tight;

and over all a corresponding pair of shoes, tying round the instep.

These last are made just like the moccasin of a North American Indian,

being neatly crimped at the toes, and having several serpentine pieces of

hide sewn across the sole to prevent wearing. The water-tight boots and

shoes are made of the skin of the small seal (_neitiek_), except the

soles, which consist of the skin of the large seal (_oguke_); this last

is also used for their fishing-lines. When the men are not prepared to

encounter wet they wear an outer boot of deer-skin with the hair outside.

The inner boot of the women, unlike that of the men, is loose round the

leg, coming as high as the knee-joint behind, and in front carried up, by

a long pointed flap, nearly to the waist, and there fastened to the

breeches. The upper boot, with the hair as usual outside, corresponds

with the other in shape, except that it is much more full, especially on

the outer side, where it bulges out so preposterously as to give the

women the most awkward, bow-legged appearance imaginable. This

superfluity of boot has probably originated in the custom, still common

among the native women of Labrador, of carrying their children in them.

We were told that these women sometimes put their children there to

sleep; but the custom must be rare among them, as we never saw it

practised. These boots, however, form their principal pockets, and

pretty capacious ones they are. Here, also, as in the jackets,

considerable taste is displayed in the selection of different parts of

the deer-skin, alternate strips of dark and white being placed up and

down the sides and front by way of ornament. The women also wear a

moccasin (_Itteegĕgă_) over all in the winter time.

One or two persons used to wear a sort of ruff round the neck, composed

of the longest white hair of the deerskin, hanging down over the bosom in

a manner very becoming to young people. It seemed to afford so little

additional warmth to persons already well clothed, that I am inclined

rather to attribute their wearing it to some superstitious notion. The

children between two and eight or nine years of age had a pair of

breeches and boots united in one, with braces over their shoulders to

keep them up. These, with a jacket like the others and a pair of

deer-skin mittens, with which each individual is furnished, constitute

the whole of their dress. Children’s clothes are often made of the skins

of very young fawns and of the marmot, as being softer than those of the

deer.

The Esquimaux, when thus equipped, may at all times bid defiance to the

rigour of this inhospitable climate; and nothing can exceed the

comfortable appearance which they exhibit even in the most inclement

weather. When seen at a little distance the white rim of their hoods,

whitened still more by the breath collecting and freezing upon it, and

contrasted with the dark faces which they encircle, render them very

grotesque objects; but while the skin of their dresses continues in good

condition they always look clean and wholesome.

To judge by the eagerness with which the women received our beads,

especially small white ones, as well as any other article of that kind,

we might suppose them very fond of personal ornament. Yet of all that

they obtained from us in this way at Winter Island, scarcely anything

ever made its appearance again during our stay there, except a ring or

two on the finger, and some bracelets of beads round the wrist: the

latter of these was probably considered as a charm of some kind or other.

We found among them, at the time of our first intercourse, a number of

small black and white glass beads, disposed alternately on a string of

sinew, and worn in this manner. They would also sometimes hang a small

bunch of these, or a button or two, in front of their jackets and hair;

and many of them, in the course of the second winter, covered the whole

front of their jackets with the beads they received from us.

The most common ornament of this kind, exclusively their own, consists in

strings of teeth, sometimes many hundred in number, which are either

attached to the lower part of the jacket, like the fringe before

described, or fastened as a belt round the waist. Most of these teeth

are of the fox and wolf, but some also belong to the musk-ox

(_ōōmĭngmŭk_), of which animal, though it is never seen at Winter Island,

we procured from the Esquimaux several of the grinders and a quantity of

the hair and skin. The bones of the _kāblĕĕ-ārioo_, supposed to be the

wolverine, constitute another of their ornaments; and it is more than

probable that all these possess some imaginary qualities, as specific

charms for various purposes. The most extraordinary amulet, if it be

one, of this kind was a row of foxes’ noses attached to the fore-part of

a woman’s jacket like a tier of black buttons. I purchased from Iligliuk

a semicircular ornament of brass, serrated at the upper edge and brightly

polished, which she wore over her hair in front and which was very

becoming. The handsomest thing of this kind, however, was understood to

be worn on the head by men, though we did not learn on what occasions.

It consisted of a band two inches in breadth, composed of several strips

of skin sewn together, alternately black and yellow; near the upper edge

some hair was artfully interwoven, forming with the skin a very pretty

chequer-work: along the lower edge were suspended more than a hundred

small teeth, principally of the deer, neatly fastened by small double

tags of sinew, and forming a very appropriate fringe.

Among their personal ornaments must also be reckoned that mode of marking

the body called tattooing, which, of the customs not essential to the

comfort or happiness of mankind, is perhaps the most extensively

practised throughout the world. Among those people it seems to be an

ornament of indispensable importance to the women, not one of them being

without it. The operation is performed about the age of ten, or

sometimes earlier, and has nothing to do with marriage, except that,

being considered in the light of a personal charm, it may serve to

recommend them as wives. The parts of the body thus marked are their

faces, arms, hands, thighs, and in some few women the breasts, but never

the feet as in Greenland. The operation, which by way of curiosity most

of our gentlemen had practised on their arms, is very expeditiously

managed by passing a needle and thread (the latter covered with

lamp-black and oil) under the epidermis, according to a pattern

previously marked out upon the skin. Several stitches being thus taken

at once, the thumb is pressed upon the part while the thread is drawn

through, by which means the colouring matter is retained, and a permanent

dye of a blue tinge imparted to the skin. A woman expert at this

business will perform it very quickly and with great regularity, but

seldom without drawing blood in many places, and occasioning some

inflammation. Where so large a portion of the surface of the body is to

be covered, it must become a painful as well as tedious process,

especially as, for want of needles, they often use a strip of whalebone

as a substitute. For those parts where a needle cannot conveniently be

passed under the skin they use the method by puncture, which is common in

other countries, and by which our seamen frequently mark their hands and

arms. Several of the men were marked on the back part of their hands;

and with them we understood it to be considered as a souvenir of some

distant or deceased person who had performed it.

In their winter habitations, I have before mentioned that the only

materials employed are snow and ice, the latter being made use of for the

windows alone. The work is commenced by cutting from a drift of hard and

compact snow a number of oblong slabs, six or seven inches thick and

about two feet in length, and laying them edgeways on a level spot, also

covered with snow, in a circular form, and of a diameter from eight to

fifteen feet, proportioned to the number of occupants the hut is to

contain. Upon this as a foundation is laid a second tier of the same

kind, but with the pieces inclining a little inwards, and made to fit

closely to the lower slabs and to each other, by running a knife adroitly

along the under part and sides. The top of this tier is now prepared for

the reception of a third by squaring it off smoothly with a knife, all

which is dexterously performed by one man standing within the circle and

receiving the blocks of snow from those employed in cutting them without.

When the wall has attained a height of four or five feet, it leans so

much inward as to appear as if about to tumble every moment; but the

workmen still fearlessly lay their blocks of snow upon it, until it is

too high any longer to furnish the materials to the builder in this

manner. Of this he gives notice by cutting a hole close to the ground in

that part where the door is intended to be, which is near the south side,

and through this the snow is now passed. Thus they continue till they

have brought the sides nearly to meet in a perfect and well-constructed

dome, sometimes nine or ten feet high in the centre; and this they take

considerable care in finishing, by fitting the last block or keystone

very nicely in the centre, dropping it into its place from the outside,

though it is still done by the man within. The people outside are in the

meantime occupied in throwing up snow with the _pŏoāllĕrāy_, or

snow-shovel, and in stuffing in little wedges of snow where holes have

been accidentally left.

The builder next proceeds to let himself out by enlarging the proposed

doorway into the form of a Gothic arch three feet high, and two feet and

a half wide at the bottom, communicating with which they construct two

passages, each from ten to twelve feet long and from four to five feet in

height, the lowest being that next the hut. The roofs of these passages

are sometimes arched, but more generally made flat by slabs laid on

horizontally. In first digging the snow for building the hut, they take

it principally from the part where the passages are to be made, which

purposely brings the floor of the latter considerably lower than that of

the hut, but in no part do they dig till the bare ground appears.

The work just described completes the walls of a hut, if a single

apartment only be required; but if, on account of relationship, or from

any other cause, several families are to reside under one roof, the

passages are made common to all, and the first apartment (in that case

made smaller) forms a kind of ante-chamber, from which you go through an

arched doorway, five feet high, into the inhabited apartments. When

there are three of these, which is generally the case, the whole

building, with its adjacent passages, forms a tolerably regular cross.

For the admission of light into the huts a round hole is cut on one side

of the roof of each apartment, and a circular plate of ice, three or four

inches thick and two feet in diameter, let into it. The light is soft

and pleasant, like that transmitted through ground glass, and is quite

sufficient for every purpose. When after some time these edifices become

surrounded by drift, it is only by the windows, as I have before

remarked, that they could be recognised as human habitations. It may,

perhaps, then be imagined how singular is their external appearance at

night, when they discover themselves only by a circular disc of light

transmitted through the windows from the lamps within.

The next thing to be done is to raise a bank of snow, two and a half feet

high, all round the interior of each apartment, except on the side next

the door. This bank, which is neatly squared off, forms their beds and

fireplace, the former occupying the sides, and the latter the end

opposite the door. The passage left open up to the fireplace is between

three and four feet wide. The beds are arranged by first covering the

snow with a quantity of small stones, over which are laid their paddles,

tent-poles, and some blades of whalebone; above these they place a number

of little pieces of network, made of thin slips of whalebone, and,

lastly, a quantity of twigs of birch and of the _andromeda tetragona_.

Their deer-skins, which are very numerous, can now be spread without risk

of their touching the snow; and such a bed is capable of affording not

merely comfort but luxurious repose, in spite of the rigour of the

climate. The skins thus used as blankets are made of a large size, and

bordered, like some of the jackets, with a fringe of long narrow slips of

leather, in which state a blanket is called _kēipik_.

The fire belonging to each family consists of a single lamp, or shallow

vessel of _lapis ollaris_, its form being the lesser segment of a circle.

The wick, composed of dry moss rubbed between the hands till it is quite

inflammable, is disposed along the edge of the lamp on the straight side,

and a greater or smaller quantity lighted, according to the heat required

or the fuel that can be afforded. When the whole length of this, which

is sometimes above eighteen inches, is kindled, it affords a most

brilliant and beautiful light, without any perceptible smoke or any

offensive smell. The lamp is made to supply itself with oil, by

suspending a long thin slice of whale, seal, or sea-horse blubber near

the flame, the warmth of which causes the oil to drip into the vessel

until the whole is extracted. Immediately over the lamp is fixed a rude

and rickety framework of wood, from which their pots are suspended, and

serving also to sustain a large hoop of bone, having a net stretched

tight within it. This contrivance, called _Innĕtăt_, is intended for the

reception of any wet things, and is usually loaded with boots, shoes, and

mittens.

The fireplace, just described as situated at the upper end of the

apartment, has always two lamps facing different ways, one for each

family occupying the corresponding bed-place. There is frequently also a

smaller and less-pretending establishment on the same model—lamp, pot,

net, and all—in one of the corners next the door; for one apartment

sometimes contains three families, which are always closely related, and

no married woman, or even a widow without children, is without her

separate fireplace.

With all the lamps lighted and the hut full of people and dogs, a

thermometer placed on the net over the fire indicated a temperature of

38°; when removed two or three feet from this situation it fell to 31°,

and placed close to the wall stood at 23°, the temperature of the open

air at the time being 25° below zero. A greater degree of warmth than

this produces extreme inconvenience by the dropping from the roofs. This

they endeavour to obviate by applying a little piece of snow to the place

from which a drop proceeds, and this adhering is for a short time an

effectual remedy; but for several weeks in the spring, when the weather

is too warm for these edifices, and still too cold for tents, they suffer

much on this account.

The most important perhaps of the domestic utensils, next to the lamp

already described, are the _ōōtkŏŏsĕĕks_ or stone pots for cooking.

These are hollowed out of solid _lapis ollaris_, of an oblong form, wider

at the top than at the bottom, all made in similar proportion, though of

various sizes, corresponding with the dimensions of the lamp which burns

under it. The pot is suspended by a line of sinew at each end to the

framework over the fire, and thus becomes so black on every side that the

original colour of the stone is in no part discernible. Many of them

were cracked quite across in several places, and mended by sewing with

sinew or rivets of copper, iron, or lead, so as, with the assistance of a

lashing and a due proportion of dirt, to render them quite water-tight.

I may here remark that as these people distinguish the Wager River by the

name of _Oōtkŏŏsĕĕksălik_, we were at first led to conjecture that they

procured their pots, or the material for making them, in that

neighbourhood; this, however, they assured us was not the case, the whole

of them coming from Akkoolee, where the stone is found in very high

situations. One of the women at Winter Island, who came from that

country, said that her parents were much employed in making these pots,

chiefly it seems as articles of barter. The asbestos, which they use in

the shape of a roundish pointed stick called _tatko_ for trimming the

lamps, is met with about Repulse Bay, and generally, as they said, on low

land.

Besides the ootkooseeks, they have circular and oval vessels of whalebone

of various sizes, which, as well as their ivory knives made out of a

walrus’s tusk, are precisely similar to those described on the western

coast of Baffin’s Bay in 1820. They have also a number of smaller

vessels of skin sewed neatly together, and a large basket of the same

material, resembling a common sieve in shape, but with the bottom close

and tight, is to be seen in every apartment. Under every lamp stands a

sort of “save-all,” consisting of a small skin basket for catching the

oil that falls over. Almost every family was in possession of a wooden

tray very much resembling those used to carry butcher’s meat in England,

and of nearly the same dimensions, which we understood them to have

procured by way of Noowook. They had a number of the bowls or cups

already once or twice alluded to as being made out of the thick root of

the horn of the musk-ox. Of the smaller part of the same horn they also

form a convenient drinking-cup, sometimes turning it up artificially

about one-third from the point, so as to be almost parallel to the other

part, and cutting it full of small notches as a convenience in grasping

it. These, or any other vessels for drinking, they call _Immōōchiuk_.

Besides the ivory knives, the men were well supplied with a much more

serviceable kind, made of iron, and called _panna_. The form of this

knife is very peculiar, being seven inches long, two and a quarter broad,

quite straight and flat, pointed at the end, and ground equally sharp at

both edges; this is firmly secured into a handle of bone or wood, about a

foot long, by two or three iron rivets, and has all the appearance of a

most destructive spear-head, but is nevertheless put to no other purpose

than that of a very useful knife, which the men are scarcely ever

without, especially on their sealing excursions. For these, and several

knives of European form, they are probably indebted to an indirect

communication with our factories in Hudson’s Bay. The same may be

observed of the best of their women’s knives (_ooloo_), on one of which,

of a larger size than usual, were the names of “Wild and Sorby.” When of

their own manufacture, the only iron part was a little narrow slip let

into the bone and secured by rivets. It is curious to observe in this,

and in numerous other instances, how exactly, amidst all the diversity of

time and place, these people have preserved unaltered their manners and

habits as mentioned by Crantz. That which an absurd dread of innovation

does in China, the want of intercourse with other nations has effected

among the Esquimaux.

Of the horn of the musk-ox they make also very good spoons much like ours

in shape; and I must not omit to mention their marrow spoons

(_pattēkniuk_, from _pāttĕk_, marrow), made out of long, narrow, hollowed

pieces of bone, of which every housewife has a bunch of half a dozen or

more tied together, and generally attached to her needle-case.

For the purpose of obtaining fire the Esquimaux use two lumps of common

iron pyrites, from which sparks are struck into a little leathern case

containing moss well dried and rubbed between the hands. If this tinder

does not readily catch, a small quantity of the white floss of the seed

of the ground willow is laid above the moss. As soon as a spark has

caught, it is gently blown till the fire has spread an inch around, when,

the pointed end of a piece of oiled wick being applied, it soon bursts

into a flame, the whole process having occupied perhaps two or three

minutes.

Among the articles in their possession, which must have been obtained by

communication along shore with Hudson’s Bay, were two large copper

kettles, several open knives with crooked wooden handles, and many

fragments of copper, iron, and old files. On a small European axe was

observed the name of “Foster.”

In enumerating the articles of their food, we might perhaps give a list

of every animal inhabiting these regions, as they certainly will at times

eat any one of them. Their principal dependence, however, is on the

reindeer (_tōōktoŏ_), musk-ox (_ōōmĭngmŭk_)(in the parts where this

animal is found), whale (_āggăwĕk_), walrus (_ēi-ŭ-ĕk_), the large and

small seal (_ōgŭke_ and _nēitiek_), and two sorts of salmon, the

_ēwĕe-tārŏke_ (_salmo alpinus_?) and _ichlūŏwŏke_. The latter is taken

by hooks in freshwater lakes, and the former by spearing in the shoal

water of certain inlets of the sea. Of all these animals they can only

procure in the winter the walrus and small seal upon this part of the

coast; and these at times, as we have seen, in scarcely sufficient

quantity for their subsistence.

They certainly in general prefer eating their meat cooked, and while they

have fuel they usually boil it; but this is a luxury and not a necessary

to them. Oily as the nature of their principal food is, yet they

commonly take an equal proportion of lean to their fat, and unless very

hungry do not eat it otherwise. Oil they seldom or never use in any way

as a part of their general diet; and even our butter, of which they were

fond, they would not eat without a due quantity of bread. They do not

like salt meat as well as fresh, and never use salt themselves; but

ship’s pork, or even a red herring, did not come amiss to them. Of

pea-soup they would eat as much as the sailors could afford to give them;

and that word was the only one, with the exception of our names, which

many of them ever learned in English. Among their own luxuries must be

mentioned a rich soup called _kāyŏ_, made of blood, gravy, and water, and

eaten quite hot. In obtaining the names of several plants, we learned

that they sometimes eat the leaves of sorrel (_kōngŏlek_), and those of

the ground willow; as also the red berries (_paōōna-rootik_) of the

_vaccinium uliginosum_, and the root of the _potentilla pulchella_; but

these cannot be said to form a part of their regular diet; scurvy grass

they never eat.

Their only drink is water; and of this, when they can procure it, they

swallow an inconceivable quantity; so that one of the principal

occupations of the women during the winter is the thawing of snow in the

ootkooseks for this purpose. They cut it into thin slices, and are

careful to have it clean, on which account they will bring it from a

distance of fifty yards from the huts. They have an extreme dislike to

drinking water much above the temperature of 32°. In eating their meals

the mistress of the family, having previously cooked the meat, takes a

large lump out of the pot with her fingers, and hands it to her husband,

who placing a part of it between his teeth cuts it off with a large knife

in that position, and then passes the knife and meat together to his next

neighbour. In cutting off a mouthful of meat the knife passes so close

to their lips, that nothing but constant habit could ensure them from the

danger of the most terrible gashes; and it would make an English mother

shudder to see the manner in which children, five or six years old, are

at all times freely trusted with a knife to be used in this way.

The length of one of the best of seven canoes belonging to these

Esquimaux was twenty-five feet, including a narrow-pointed projection,

three feet long at each end, which turns a little upward from the

horizontal. The extreme breadth, which is just before the circular hole,

was twenty-one inches, and the depth ten inches and a half. The plane of

the upper surface of the canoe, except in the two extreme projections,

bends downwards a little from the centre towards the head and stern,

giving it the appearance of what is in ships called “broken-backed.” The

gunwales are of fir, in some instances of one piece, three or four inches

broad in the centre and tapering gradually away towards the ends. The

timbers, as well as the fore-and-aft connecting pieces, are of the same

material, the former being an inch square, and sometimes so close

together as to require between forty and fifty of them in one canoe:

which when thus “in frame” is one of the prettiest things of the kind

that can be imagined. The skin with which the canoe is covered is

exclusively that of the _neitiek_, prepared by scraping off the hair and

fat with an _ooloo_, and stretching it tight on a frame over the fire;

after which and a good deal of chewing, it is sewn on by the women with

admirable neatness and strength. Their paddles have a blade at each end,

the whole length being nine feet and a half; the blades are covered with

a narrow plate of bone round the ends to secure them from splitting: they

are always made of fir, and generally of several pieces scarfed and

woolded together.

In summer they rest their canoes upon two small stones raised four feet

from the ground; and in winter, on a similar structure of snow; in one

case to allow them to dry freely, and in the other to prevent the

snow-drift from covering, and the dogs from eating them. The difficulty

of procuring a canoe may be concluded from the circumstance of there

being at Winter Island twenty men able to manage one, and only seven

canoes among them. Of these indeed only three or four were in good

repair, the rest being wholly or in part stripped of the skin, of which a

good deal was occasionally cut off during the winter, to make boots,

shoes, and mittens for our people. We found no _oomiak_, or women’s

boat, among them, and understood that they were not in the habit of using

them, which may in part be accounted for by their passing so much of the

summer in the interior; they knew very well, however, what they were, and

made some clumsy models of them for our people.

In the weapons used for killing their game there is considerable variety,

according to the animal of which they are in pursuit. The most simple of

these is the _ōōnăk_, which they use only for killing the small seal. It

consists of a light staff of wood, four feet in length, having at one end

the point of a narwhal’s horn, from ten to eighteen inches long, firmly

secured by rivets and wooldings; at the other end is a smaller and less

effective point of the same kind. To prevent losing the ivory part in

case of the wood breaking, a stout thong runs along the whole length of

the wood, each end passing through a hole in the ivory, and the bight

secured in several places to the staff. In this weapon, as far as it has

yet been described, there is little art or ingenuity displayed; but a

considerable degree of both in an appendage called _siātkŏ_, consisting

of a piece of bone three inches long, and having a point of iron at one

end, and at the other end a small hole or socket to receive the point of

the oonak. Through the middle of this instrument is secured the _āllek_,

or line of thong, of which every man has, when sealing, a couple of

coils, each from four to six fathoms long, hanging at his back. These

are made of the skin of the _oguke_ as in Greenland, and are admirably

adapted to the purpose, both on account of their strength, and the

property which they possess of preserving their pliability even in the

most intense frost.

When a seal is seen, the siatko is taken from a little leathern case, in

which, when out of use, it is carefully enclosed, and attached by its

socket to the point of the spear; in this situation it is retained by

bringing the allek tight down and fastening it round the middle of the

staff by what seamen call a “slippery hitch,” which may instantly be

disengaged by pulling on the other end of the line. As soon as the spear

has been thrown, and the animal struck, the siatko is thus purposely

separated; and being slung by the middle, now performs very effectually

the important office of a barb, by turning at right angles to the

direction in which it has entered the orifice. This device is in its

principle superior even to our barb; for the instant any strain is put

upon the line it acts like a toggle, opposing its length to a wound only

as wide as its own breadth.

The _āklĕak_, or _aklēēgă_, used for the large seal, has a blown bladder

attached to the staff, for the purpose of impeding the animal in the

water. The weapon with two long parallel prongs of bone or iron,

obtained from the natives of the Savage Islands, these people also called

_akleak_, and said it was for killing seals.

The third and largest weapon is that called _katteelik_, with which the

walrus and whale are attacked. The staff of this is not longer but much

stouter than that of the others, especially towards the middle, where

there is a small shoulder of ivory securely lashed to it for the thumb to

rest against, and thus to give additional force in throwing or thrusting

the spear. The ivory point of this weapon is made to fit into a socket

at the end of the staff, where it is secured by double thongs, in such a

manner as steadily to retain its position when a strain is put upon it in

the direction of its length, but immediately disengaging itself with a

sort of spring, when any lateral strain endangers its breaking. The

siatko is always used with this spear; and to the end of the allek, when

the animal pursued is in open water, they attach a whole seal-skin

(_hŏw-wūt-tă_), inflated like a bladder, for the purpose of tiring it out

in its progress through the water.

They have a spear called _īppoo_ for killing deer in the water. They

described it as having a light staff and a small head of iron, but they

had none of these so fitted in the winter. The _nūgŭee_, or dart for

birds, has, besides its two ivory prongs at the end of the staff, three

divergent ones in the middle of it, with several small double barbs upon

them turning inwards; they differ from the _nuguit_ of Greenland, and

that of the Savage Islands, in having these prongs always of unequal

lengths. To give additional velocity to the bird-dart, they use a

throwing-stick (_noke-shak_) which is probably the same as the

“hand-board” figured by Crantz. It consists of a flat board about

eighteen inches in length, having a groove to receive the staff, two

others and a hole for the fingers and thumb, and a small spike fitted for

a hole in the end of the staff. This instrument is used for the

bird-dart only. The spear for salmon or other fish, called kākĕe-wĕi,

consists of a wooden staff with a spike of bone or ivory, three inches

long, secured at one end. On each side of the spike is a curved prong,

much like that of a pitchfork, but made of flexible horn, which gives

them a spring, and having a barb on the inner part of the point turning

downwards. Their fish-hooks (_kakliōkia_) consist only of a nail crooked

and pointed at one end, the other being let into a piece of ivory to

which the line is attached. A piece of deer’s horn or curved bone, only

a foot long, is used as a rod, and completes this very rude part of their

fishing-gear.

Of their mode of killing seals in the winter I have already spoken in the

course of the foregoing narrative, as far as we were enabled to make

ourselves acquainted with it. In their summer exploits on the water, the

killing of the whale is the most arduous undertaking which they have to

perform; and one cannot sufficiently admire the courage and activity

which, with gear apparently so inadequate, it must require to accomplish

this business. Okotook, who was at the killing of two whales in the

course of a single summer, and who described the whole of it quite _con

amore_, mentioned the names of thirteen men who, each in his canoe, had

assisted on one of these occasions. When a fish is seen lying on the

water, they cautiously paddle up astern of him, till a single canoe,

preceding the rest, comes close to him on one quarter, so as to enable

the man to drive the _katteelik_ into the animal with all the force of

both arms. This having the _siatko_, a long _allek_, and the inflated

seal-skin attached to it, the whale immediately dives, taking the whole

apparatus with him except the _katteelik_ which, being disengaged in the

manner before described, floats to the surface and is picked up by its

owner. The animal re-appearing after some time, all the canoes again

paddle towards him, some warning being given by the seal-skin buoy

floating on the surface. Each man being furnished like the first, they

repeat the blows as often as they find opportunity, till perhaps every

line has been thus employed. After pursuing him in this manner,

sometimes for half a day, he is at length so wearied by the resistance of

the buoys, and exhausted by loss of blood, as to be obliged to rise more

and more often to the surface, when, by frequent wounds with their

spears, they succeed in killing him, and tow their prize in triumph to

the shore. It is probable that with the whale, as with the smaller

sea-animals, some privilege or perquisite is given to the first striker;

and, like our own fishermen, they take a pride in having it known that

their spear has been the first to inflict a wound. They meet with the

most whales on the coast of _Einwīllik_.

In attacking the walrus in the water they use the same gear, but with

much more caution than with the whale, always throwing the _katteelik_

from some distance, lest the animal should attack the canoe and demolish

it with his tusks. The walrus is in fact the only animal with which they

use any caution of this kind. They like the flesh better than that of

the seal; but venison is preferred by them to either of these, and indeed

to any other kind of meat.

At Winter Island they carefully preserved the heads of all the animals

killed during the winter, except two or three of the walrus, which we

obtained with great difficulty. There is probably some superstition

attached to this, but they told us that they were to be thrown into the

sea in the summer, which a Greenlander studiously avoids doing; and,

indeed, at Igloolik, they had no objection to part with them before the

summer arrived. As the blood of the animals which they kill is all used

as food of the most luxurious kind, they are careful to avoid losing any

portion of it; for this purpose they carry with them on their excursions

a little instrument of ivory called _tŏopōōtă_, in form and size exactly

resembling a “twenty-penny” nail, with which they stop up the orifice

made by the spear, by thrusting it through the skin by the sides of the

wound, and securing it with a twist. I must here also mention a simple

little instrument called _keipkūttuk_, being a slender rod of bone nicely

rounded, and having a point at one end and a knob or else a laniard at

the other. The use of this is to thrust through the ice where they have

reason to believe a seal is at work underneath. This little instrument

is sometimes made as delicate as a fine wire, that the seal may not see

it; and a part still remaining above the surface informs the fishermen by

its motion whether the animal is employed in making his hole: if not, it

remains undisturbed, and the attempt is given up in that place.

One of the best of their bows was made of a single piece of fir, four

feet eight inches in length, flat on the inner side and rounded on the

outer, being five inches in girth about the middle, where, however, it is

strengthened on the concave side, when strung, by a piece of bone ten

inches long, firmly secured by tree-nails of the same material. At each

end of the bow is a knob of bone, or sometimes of wood covered with

leather, with a deep notch for the reception of the string. The only

wood which they can procure not possessing sufficient elasticity combined

with strength, they ingeniously remedy the defect by securing to the back

of the bow, and to the knobs at each end, a quantity of small lines, each

composed of a plait or “sinnet” of three sinews. The number of lines

thus reaching from end to end is generally about thirty; but besides

these, several others are fastened with hitches round the bow, in pairs,

commencing eight inches from one end, and again united at the same

distance from the other, making the whole number of strings, in the

middle of the bow sometimes amount to sixty. These being put on with the

bow somewhat bent the contrary way, produce a spring so strong as to

require considerable force as well as knack in stringing it and giving

the requisite velocity to the arrow. The bow is completed by a woolding

round the middle and a wedge or two, here and there, driven in to tighten

it. A bow in one piece is, however, very rare; they generally consist of

from two to five pieces of bone of unequal lengths, secured together by

rivets and tree-nails.

The arrows vary in length from twenty to thirty inches, according to the

materials that can be commanded. About two-thirds of the whole length is

of fir rounded, and the rest of bone let by a socket into the wood, and

having a head of thin iron, or more commonly of slate, secured into a

slit by two tree-nails. Towards the opposite end of the arrow are two

feathers, generally of the spotted oval, not very neatly lashed on. The

bow-string consists of from twelve to eighteen small lines of three-sinew

sinnet, having a loose twist, and with a separate becket of the same size

for going over the knobs at the end of the bow.

We tried their skill in archery by getting them to shoot at a mark for a

prize, though with bows in extremely bad order, on account of the frost,

and their hands very cold. The mark was two of their spears stuck

upright in the snow, their breadth being three inches and a half. At

twenty yards they struck this every time; at thirty, sent the arrows

always within an inch or two of it; and at forty or fifty yards, I should

think, would generally hit a fawn if the animal stood still. These

weapons are perhaps sufficient to inflict a mortal wound at something

more than that distance, for which, however, a strong arm would be

required. The animals which they kill with the bow and arrow for their

subsistence are principally the musk-ox and deer, and less frequently the

bear, wolf, fox, hare, and some of the smaller animals.

It is a curious fact that the musk-ox is very rarely found to extend his

migrations to the eastward of a line passing through Repulse Bay, or

about the meridian of 86° west, while in a northern direction we know

that he travels as far as the seventy-sixth degree of latitude. In

Greenland this animal is known only by vague and exaggerated report; on

the western coast of Baffin’s Bay it has certainly been seen, though very

rarely, by the present inhabitants; and the eldest person belonging to

the Winter Island tribe had never seen one to the eastward of Eiwillik,

where, as well as at Akkōōleĕ, they are said to be numerous on the banks

of fresh-water lakes and streams. The few men who had been present at

the killing of one of these creatures seemed to pride themselves very

much upon it. Toolooak, who was about seventeen years of age, had never

seen either the musk-ox or the _kābleĕ-ārioo_, a proof that the latter

also is not common in this corner of America.

The reindeer are killed by the Esquimaux in great abundance in the summer

season, partly by driving them from islands or narrow necks of land into

the sea, and then spearing them from their canoes; and partly by shooting

them from behind heaps of stones raised for the purpose of watching them

and imitating their peculiar bellow or grunt. Among the various

artifices which they employ for this purpose, one of the most ingenious

consists in two men walking directly from the deer they wish to kill,

when the animal almost always follows them. As soon as they arrive at a

large stone, one of the men hides behind it with his bow, while the

other, continuing to walk on, soon leads the deer within range of his

companion’s arrows. They are also very careful to keep to leeward of the

deer, and will scarcely go out after them at all when the weather is

calm. For several weeks in the course of the summer some of these people

almost entirely give up their fishery on the coast, retiring to the banks

of lakes several miles in the interior, which they represent as large and

deep and abounding with salmon, while the pasture near them affords good

feeding to numerous herds of deer.

The distance to which these people extend their inland migrations, and

the extent of coast of which they possess a personal knowledge, are

really very considerable. Of these we could at the time of our first

intercourse form no correct judgment, from our uncertainty as to the

length of what they call a _seenik_ (sleep), or one day’s journey, by

which alone they could describe to us, with the help of their imperfect

arithmetic, the distance from one place to another. But our subsequent

knowledge of the coast has cleared up much of this difficulty, affording

the means of applying to their hydrographical sketches a tolerably

accurate scale for those parts which we have not hitherto visited. A

great number of these people, who were born at Amitioke and Igloolik, had

been to _Noowook_, or nearly as far south as Chesterfield Inlet, which is

about the _ne plus ultra_ of their united knowledge in a southerly

direction. Not one of them had been by water round to Akkoolee, but

several by land; in which mode of travelling they only consider that

country from three to five days’ journey from Repulse Bay. Okotook and a

few others of the Winter Island tribe had extended their peregrinations a

considerable distance to the northward, over the large insular piece of

land to which we have applied the name of Cockburn Island; which they

described as high land and the resort of numerous reindeer. Here Okotook

informed us he had seen icebergs, which these people call by a name

(_pīccălōōyăk_) having in its pronunciation some affinity to that used in

Greenland. By the information afterwards obtained when nearer the spot,

we had reason to suppose this land must reach beyond the seventy-second

degree of latitude in a northerly direction; so that these people possess

a personal knowledge of the continent of America and its adjacent

islands, from that parallel to Chesterfield Inlet in 63¾°, being a

distance of more than five hundred miles reckoned in a direct line,

besides the numerous turnings and windings of the coast along which they

are accustomed to travel. Ewerat and some others had been a considerable

distance up the Wager River; but no record had been preserved among them

of Captain Middleton’s visit to that inlet about the middle of the last

century.

Of the continental shore to the westward of Akkoolee, the Esquimaux

invariably disclaimed the slightest personal knowledge; for no land can

be seen in that direction from the hills. They entertain, however, a

confused idea that neither Esquimaux nor Indians could there subsist, for

want of food. Of the Indians they know enough by tradition to hold them

in considerable dread, on account of their cruel and ferocious manners.

When, on one occasion, we related the circumstances of the inhuman

massacre described by Hearne, they crowded round us in the hut, listening

with mute and almost breathless attention; and the mothers drew their

children closer to them, as if to guard them from the dreadful

catastrophe. It is worthy of notice that they call the Indians by a name

(_Eērt-kĕi-lĕe_), which appears evidently the same as that applied by the

Greenlanders to the man-eaters supposed to inhabit the eastern coast of

their country, and to whom terror has assigned a face like that of a dog.

The Esquimaux take some animals in traps, and by a very ingenious

contrivance of this kind they caught two wolves at Winter Island. It

consists of a small house built of ice, at one end of which a door, made

of the same plentiful material, is fitted to slide up and down in a

groove; to the upper part of this a line is attached, and, passing over

the roof, is let down into the trap at the inner end, and there held by

slipping an eye in the end of it over a peg of ice left for the purpose.

Over the peg, however, is previously placed a loose grummet, to which the

bait is fastened, and a false roof placed over all to hide the line. The

moment the animal drags at the bait the grummet slips off the peg,

bringing with it the line that held up the door, and this falling down

closes the trap and secures him.

A trap for birds is formed by building a house of snow just large enough

to contain one person, who closes himself up in it. On the top is left a

small aperture, through which the man thrusts one of his hands to secure

the bird the moment he alights to take away a bait of meat laid beside

it. It is principally gulls that are taken thus; and the boys sometimes

amuse themselves in this manner. A trap in which they catch foxes has

been mentioned in another place.