UPERNAVIK.--HOSPITALITY OF THE INHABITANTS.--DEATH AND BURIAL OF
GIBSON CARUTHERS.--A LUNCH ON BOARD.--ADIEU.
We put to sea early in the morning of the 12th, and in the evening
of the same day were at Upernavik. The entrance to the harbor is
somewhat unsafe, owing to a reef which lies outside the anchorage;
but we were fortunate in obtaining a native pilot at Pröven, and ran
in without accident. This pilot was a character in his way. It seems
that he had been converted from his heathen ways, and rejoiced in the
benefits of baptism and the name of Adam. Dressed in a well-worn suit
of seal-skins, Adam had about him little of the sailor trigness; yet,
though not a Palinurus, no pilot in all the world had ever a higher
appreciation of his personal importance. His appearance, however, was
not calculated to inspire any great degree of confidence in his skill;
and the sailing-master plied him so incessantly with questions that he
at length grew impatient; and, concentrating his vanity and knowledge
into one short sentence, which signified plainly, "I am master of the
situation," he informed that officer that there was "plenty water all
de times, no rocks altogeder," and retired with every mark of offended
dignity. He was correct in his information, if not in his English.
We found the Danish brig _Thialfe_ lying snugly moored in the harbor,
and we anchored close beside her. This was the first vessel we had seen
since leaving the fishing-smacks off Cape Cod. She was taking in oil
and skins for Copenhagen, and her commander, Mr. Bordolf, informed me
that he expected to sail in a few days,--a chance, at last, for letters
to the anxious ones at home.
The people of the Colony were already much excited over the arrival
of the "Danske skip," and two vessels in the port at once was a sight
which they had not for a long time witnessed. The moss-covered hill
which slopes from the town to the beach was covered with a motley-group
of men, women, and children, presenting quite a picturesque appearance
as we approached the anchorage.
Mr. Hansen received me with true Scandinavian heartiness; and,
escorting me to the government-house, introduced me to the retiring
Chief Trader, Dr. Rudolph, a very gentlemanly representative of the
Danish Army, who was about returning home in the _Thialfe_. Over a
jug of home-brewed beer and a Dutch pipe, we were soon discussing the
prospect of obtaining dogs and the state of the ice to the northward.
[Sidenote: UPERNAVIK]
[Sidenote: THE PARSONAGE]
Upernavik differs but little in its general appearance from Pröven.
There are a few more huts and a few more inhabitants; and, from being
the residence of the Chief Trader for the "Upernavik district," which
includes Pröven and its dependencies, it has attached to it something
more of importance. Perhaps this is, in a measure, due to a quaint
little church and a parsonage. To the parsonage I quickly found my
way, for I fancied that from behind the neat muslin curtains of its
odd little windows I detected a female face. I tapped at the door,
and was ushered into a cosy little apartment, (the fastidious neatness
of which left no doubt as to the sex of its occupants,) by the oddest
specimen of woman-kind that ever answered bell. She was a full-blown
Esquimau, with coppery complexion and black hair, which was twisted
into a knot on the top of her head. She wore a jacket which extended to
her waist, seal-skin pantaloons, and boots reaching above the knees,
dyed scarlet and embroidered in a manner that would astonish the girls
of Dresden. The room was redolent of the fragrant rose and mignonette
and heliotrope, which nestled in the sunlight under the snow-white
curtains. A canary chirped on its perch above the door, a cat was
purring on the hearth-rug, and an unmistakable gentleman put out a soft
white hand to give me welcome. It was the Rev. Mr. Anton, missionary
of the place. Mrs. Anton soon emerged from a snug little chamber
adjoining. Her sister came in immediately afterward, and we were soon
grouped about a home-like table; a genuine bottle of Lafitte, choice
coffee, Danish fare, and Danish heartiness, quickly made us forget the
hardships of our cramped life in the little tempest-tossed schooner.
My visit to Mr. Anton had, however, an association of much sadness. A
valued member of my party, Mr. Gibson Caruthers, had died during the
previous night, and I called to ask the missionary to officiate at the
funeral service. His consent was promptly given, and the hour of burial
was fixed for the following day.
The burial of a companion, at any time painful, was doubly so to us,
isolated as we were from the world. The deceased had endeared himself
to all on board by his excellent qualities of head and heart; and the
suddenness of his death made the impression upon his late associates
all the more keenly felt. He had retired the night before in perfect
health, and was found dead in his berth next morning. To the expedition
he was a serious loss. Besides Mr. Sonntag, he was the only member of
my party who had been in the Arctic seas, and I had counted much upon
his knowledge and intelligence. He had served under De Haven in the
First Grinnell Expedition of 1850-51, and had brought home an excellent
record for fortitude and daring.
[Sidenote: AN ARCTIC SEPULCHRE.]
The burial-ground at Upernavik is a sad place for human sepulchre. It
lies on the hill-side above the town, and is dreary and desolate past
description. It is made up of a series of rocky steps, on which lie,
covered over with piles of stones, (for there is no earth,) a few rude
coffins,--mournful resting-place for those who sleep here their last
sleep in the everlasting winter. The body of poor Caruthers lies upon a
ledge overlooking the sea, which he loved so well, and the beating surf
will sing for him an eternal requiem.
We were detained four days at Upernavik, collecting dogs and
accumulating the elements of an Arctic wardrobe. This last consisted
of reindeer, seal, and dog skins, a quantity of which had been
obtained at Pröven, and placed in the hands of the native women, to be
converted into suitable garments. The boots required the longest time
to manufacture. They are made of tanned seal-skin, sewed with sinew,
and are "crimped" and fitted to the foot in a very ingenious manner.
When properly made they are perfectly water-proof. The boot worn by the
half-civilized native women is really a pretty as well as serviceable
piece of cunning needlework. The tanned seal-skin, by alternate
freezing and thawing, and exposure to the sun, becomes perfectly
bleached, and in that condition is readily stained with any color which
woman's caprice may suggest, or the Chief Trader may happen to have in
his store-room. The women of Greenland are not exempt from the graceful
vanities of other lands. They are fond of gay colors, and do not
disdain admiration. Red boots, or white, trimmed with red, seemed to be
most in vogue, though, indeed, there is no more an end to the variety
than there is to the strangeness of the fancy which suggests it. It
would be difficult to imagine a more ludicrous sight than was presented
by the crowd of red and yellow and white and purple and blue legged
women who crowded along the beach as we entered the harbor.
[Sidenote: POPULATION OF UPERNAVIK.]
The population of Upernavik numbers about two hundred souls, comprising
about twenty Danes, and a larger number of half-breeds, the remainder
being native Greenlanders, that is, Esquimaux. I shall have more to say
of them hereafter, my purpose now being to carry the reader as rapidly
as possible to the scene of our explorations. He may indeed have as
much anxiety to get away from Upernavik as I had.
[Sidenote: NEW RECRUITS.]
Through the kindness of Mr. Hansen, I obtained here three native
hunters, and also an interpreter. This latter had taken passage by the
_Thialfe_ for Copenhagen, but he could not withstand the tempting offer
which I made him, and he quickly transferred himself from the Danish
brig to our crowded cabin. He was a hearty, strong man, had lived in
Greenland for ten years; and, being more than usually intelligent,
had picked up on board the English whale-ships a sufficient knowledge
of the English language to insure his being a very useful member of
my party in the event of our falling in with Esquimaux, with whose
language he was perfectly familiar. Besides, he was an excellent hunter
and dog-driver; and, by joining me, I secured his team of dogs, the
finest in all North Greenland. But unfortunately this involved another
halt, for they were sixty miles up the coast, at Tessuissak, a small
hunting station of which he was Trader at the time of obtaining his
leave of absence to go home for the year. I also shipped two Danish
sailors, thus increasing my party to twenty souls. As the new recruits
will figure frequently in these pages, I give their names:--
Peter Jensen, Interpreter and dog-manager.
Carl Emil Olswig, Sailor.
Carl Christian Petersen, Sailor and Carpenter.
Peter (converted Esquimau), Hunter and dog-driver.
Marcus, " " " "
Jacob, " " " "
I owe much to the kindly disposition of the inhabitants of Upernavik.
Their simple though cordial hospitality was a refreshing incident
of our cruise; and the constant desire to supply my wants, and the
pains which they took to furnish what I so much needed, is gratefully
remembered. If those in authority had allowed me to shift for myself I
should have been badly off indeed. I mention it to their credit that
they refused compensation of every kind; and it was not without great
effort that I could prevail upon any of them to accept so much as a
barrel of flour or a box of canned food. "You will want them more than
we," was the uniform answer. The Chief Trader actually sent aboard a
present I had made him in return for the fine team of dogs which I owed
to his generosity.
[Sidenote: A LUNCH ON BOARD.]
It was in some measure to show my appreciation of the spirit which
prompted these warm-hearted people that I resolved to signalize
our departure with a _lunch_ to the representatives of King
Frederick the Seventh, at this most northern outpost of Christian
settlement. Accordingly I sent my secretary, Mr. Knorr, out with some
formal-looking invitations, gotten up in all the dignity of Parisian
paper and rose-scented wax. He came back in a few hours with three
couples. Two of the ladies were from the parsonage; the other was the
wife of the Chief Trader. Dr. Rudolph, Mr. Hansen, and the missionary,
were their escorts. The master of the _Thialfe_ was already on board.
Meanwhile our old Swedish cook had gone half crazy, and the steward
kept him company. To prepare a lunch for ladies in these high latitudes
was not within their conception of the hard-fisted requirements of
exploration dignity. They "could _not_ understand it." The steward
contrived, however, to stow away in the bunks the seal-skins which
encumbered the cabin, and thus got rid of all our Greenland rubbish
but the odor. But it was not until the clean white table-cloth, which
he produced from some out-of-the-way locker, was covered with the
smoking dishes which his ingenuity had contrived, that his face was
lit up with any thing approaching the kindly. Being, however, in a
general way a mild-mannered man, his ferocious looks did not materially
affect the progress of the preparations; and the solemn face with
which he predicted, in great confidence, to the cook that "such folly
would bring us all to ruin, indeed it would," at length wore a ghastly
smile, and finally exhibited decided manifestations of a forgiving
disposition. Indeed, he was in the end very proud of his "spread."
[Sidenote: A LUNCH ON BOARD.]
In truth, the spread was a very creditable affair. The contents of our
hermetically sealed cans furnished a welcome variety to these dwellers
in the land of seals; the lakes of Greenland supplied some noble
salmon, and my lockers contributed something from sunny France and
golden Italy, and the materials for an excellent punch from Santa Cruz.
At first we got on badly with the conversation, but by and by English,
Danish, German, and bad Latin became mixed harmoniously together like
the ingredients of the punch; healths were drunk,--to the King, to the
President, to all good fortune, to ourselves, and speeches were made,
in which were duly set forth the glorious memories of the children of
Odin. The merriment was waxing warm. Some one, stimulated perhaps by a
recent tribute of praise to the valiant Harold and the Russian Maiden,
and the fights and loves of the vikings generally, had just proposed
that best toast of the sailor, "sweethearts and wives," and obtained a
fitting response, when the heavy thump of a pair of mammoth sea-boots
was heard on the companion-ladder, and the master's mate broke in upon
us like the ghost of Banquo.
"The officer of the deck directs me to report, sir, that the dogs are
all aboard, sir, and that he is hove short on the anchor, as ordered,
sir."
"How's the wind?"
"Light, and southerly, sir."
[Sidenote: FAREWELL TO UPERNAVIK.]
There was no help for it. The guests must be got away. The ladies'
"things" were hunted up; the ladies themselves were hurried over
the gangway into the boat; Dr. Rudolph took charge of our letters,
promising to deliver them to the American consul at Copenhagen; "click,
click," went the windlass; up went our white wings, and the last link
which bound us to the world--the world of love and warm skies and green
meadows--was fairly broken, when we caught from the hill-top the last
glimpse of a gay ribbon and the last flutter of a white handkerchief.
[Illustration]