Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed.
Words printed in italics are marked with underscores: _italics_. Words
printed in bold are marked with tildes: ~bold~.
[Illustration: "NO USE, LADS! THE BOAT HAS BEEN SWEPT AWAY"
(See page 37)]
Among the Esquimaux
OR
Adventures under the Arctic Circle
BY
EDWARD S. ELLIS, A.M.
AUTHOR OF "The Campers Out," Etc., Etc.
PHILADELPHIA
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
1894
COPYRIGHT 1894 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I TWO PASSENGERS ON THE "NAUTILUS" 7
II A COLOSSAL SOMERSAULT 16
III AN ALARMING SITUATION 27
IV ADRIFT 38
V AN ICY COUCH 46
VI MISSING 55
VII A POINT OF LIGHT 64
VIII HOPE DEFERRED 73
IX A STARTLING OCCURRENCE 82
X AN UGLY CUSTOMER 91
XI LIVELY TIMES 99
XII FRED'S EXPERIENCE 108
XIII THE FOG 117
XIV A COLLISION 126
XV THE SOUND OF A VOICE 135
XVI LAND HO! 144
XVII DOCAK AND HIS HOME 153
XVIII A NEW EXPEDITION 162
XIX A WONDERFUL EXHIBITION 171
XX THE HERD OF MUSK OXEN 180
XXI CLOSE QUARTERS 189
XXII FRED'S TURN 198
XXIII IN THE CAVERN 207
XXIV UNWELCOME CALLERS 216
XXV THE COMING SHADOW 225
XXVI WALLED IN 234
XXVII "COME ON!" 243
XXVIII A HOPELESS TASK 251
XXIX TEN MILES 260
XXX THE LAST PAUSE 269
XXXI ANOTHER SOUND 278
XXXII THE WILD MEN OF GREENLAND 287
XXXIII CONCLUSION 301
AMONG THE ESQUIMAUX
CHAPTER I
TWO PASSENGERS ON THE "NAUTILUS"
The good ship "Nautilus" had completed the greater part of her voyage
from London to her far-off destination, deep in the recesses of
British America. This was York Factory, one of the chief posts of the
Hudson Bay Company.
Among the numerous streams flowing into Hudson Bay, from the frozen
regions of the north, is the Nelson River. Near the mouth of this and
of the Hayes River was erected, many years ago, Fort York, or York
Factory. The post is not a factory in the ordinary meaning of the
word, being simply the headquarters of the factors or dealers in furs
for that vast monopoly whose agents have scoured the dismal regions to
the north of the Saskatchewan, in the land of Assiniboine, along the
mighty Yukon and beyond the Arctic Circle, in quest of the fur-bearing
animals, that are found only in their perfection in the coldest
portions of the globe.
The buildings which form the fort are not attractive, but they are
comfortable. They are not specially strong, for, though the structure
has stood for a long time in a country which the aborigines make their
home, and, though it is far removed from any human assistance, its
wooden walls have never been pierced by a hostile bullet, and it is
safe to say they never will be. Somehow or other, our brethren across
the northern border have learned the art of getting along with the
Indians without fighting them.
The voyageurs and trappers, returning from their journeys in canoes or
on snow-shoes to the very heart of frozen America, first catch sight
of the flag floating from the staff of York Factory, and they know
that a warm welcome awaits them, because the peltries gathered amid
the recesses of the frigid mountains and in the heart of the land of
desolation are sure to find ready purchasers at the post, for the
precious furs are eagerly sought for in the marts of the Old and of
the New World.
It is a lonely life for the inhabitants of the fort, for it is only
once a year that the ship of the company, after breasting the fierce
storms and powerful currents of the Atlantic, sails up the great mouth
of Baffin Bay, glides through Hudson Strait, and thence steals across
the icy expanse of Hudson Bay to the little fort near the mouth of the
Nelson.
You can understand how welcome the ship is, for it brings the only
letters, papers, and news from home that can be received until another
twelvemonth shall roll around. Such, as I have said, is the rule,
though now and then what may be termed an extra ship makes that long,
tempestuous voyage. Being unexpected, its coming is all the more
joyful, for it is like the added week's holiday to the boy who has
just made ready for the hard work and study of the school-room.
You know there has been considerable said and written about a railway
to Hudson Bay, with the view of connection thence by ship to Europe.
Impracticable as is the scheme, because of the ice which locks up
navigation for months every year, it has had strong and ingenious
advocates, and considerable money has been spent in the way of
investigation. The plan has been abandoned, for the reasons I have
named, and there is no likelihood that it will ever be attempted.
The "Nautilus" had what may be called a roving commission. It is easy
to understand that so long as the ships of the Hudson Bay Company have
specific duties to perform, and that the single vessel is simply
ordered to take supplies to York Factory and bring back her cargo of
peltries, little else can be expected from her. So the staunch
"Nautilus" was fitted out, placed under the charge of the veteran
navigator, Captain McAlpine, who had commanded more than one Arctic
whaler, and sent on her westward voyage.
The ultimate destination of the "Nautilus" was York Factory, though
she was to touch at several points, after calling at St. John,
Newfoundland, one of which was the southern coast of Greenland, where
are located the most famous cryolite mines in the world, belonging,
like Greenland itself, to the Danish Government.
There is little to be told the reader about the "Nautilus" itself or
the crew composing it, but it so happened that she had on board three
parties, in whose experience and adventures I am sure you will come to
feel an interest. These three were Jack Cosgrove, a bluff, hearty
sailor, about forty years of age; Rob Carrol, seventeen, and Fred
Warburton, one year younger.
Rob was a lusty, vigorous young man, honest, courageous, often to
rashness, the picture of athletic strength and activity, and one whom
you could not help liking at the first glance. His father was a
director in the honorable Hudson Bay Company, possessed considerable
wealth, and Rob was the eldest of three sons.
Fred Warburton, while displaying many of the mental characteristics of
his friend, was quite different physically. He was of much slighter
build, not nearly so strong, was more quiet, inclined to study, but as
warmly devoted to the splendid Rob as the latter was to him.
Fred was an orphan, without brother or sister, and in such straitened
circumstances that it had become necessary for him to find some means
of earning his daily bread. The warm-hearted Rob stated the case to
his father, and said that if he didn't make a good opening for his
chum he himself would die of a broken heart right on the spot.
"Not so bad as that, Rob," replied the genial gentleman, who was proud
of his big, manly son; "I have heard so much from you of young Mr.
Warburton that I have kept an eye on him for a year past."
"I may have told you a good deal about him," continued Rob, earnestly,
"but not half as much as he deserves."
"He must be a paragon, indeed, but, from what I can learn, my son, he
has applied himself so hard to his studies while at school that he
ought to have a vacation before settling down to real hard work; what
do you think about it, Robert?"
"A good idea, provided I take it with him," added the son, slyly.
"I see you are growing quite pale and are losing your appetite,"
continued the parent, with a grave face, which caused the youth to
laugh outright at the pleasant irony.
"Yes," said the big boy, with the same gravity; "I suffer a great loss
of appetite three or four times every day; in fact, I feel as though I
couldn't eat another mouthful."
"I have observed that phenomenon, my son, but it never seems to attack
you until the table has been well cleared of everything on it. Ah, my
boy!" he added, tenderly, laying his hand on his head; "I am thankful
that you are blessed with such fine health. Be assured there is
nothing in this world that can take its place. With a conscience void
of offense toward God and man, and a body that knows no ache nor pain,
you can laugh at the so-called miseries of life; they will roll from
you like water from a duck's back."
"But, father, have you thought of any way of giving Fred a vacation
before he goes to work? You know he is as poor as he can be, and can't
afford to do nothing and pay his expenses."
"The plan I have in mind," replied the father, leaning back in his
chair and twirling his eyeglasses, "is this: next week the 'Nautilus,'
one of the company's ships, will leave London for York Factory, which
is a station deep in the heart of British America. She will touch at
St. John, Greenland, and several other points on her way, and may stop
several weeks or months at York Factory, according to circumstances.
If it will suit your young friend to go with her, I will have him
registered as one of our clerks, which will entitle him to a salary
from the day the 'Nautilus' leaves the dock. The sea voyage will do
him good, and when he returns, at the end of a year or less, he can
settle down to hard work in our office in London. Of course, if Fred
goes, you will have to stay at home."
Rob turned in dismay to his parent, but he observed a twitching at the
corners of his mouth, and a sparkle of the fine blue eyes, which
showed he was only teasing him.
"Ah, father, I understand you!" exclaimed the big boy, springing
forward, throwing an arm about his neck and kissing him. "You wouldn't
think of separating us."
"I suppose not. There! get along with you, and tell your friend to
make ready to sail next week, his business being to look after you
while away from home."
And that is how Rob Carrol and Fred Warburton came to be
fellow-passengers on the ship "Nautilus" on the voyage to the far
North.