THE PEARY PLAN--A RAIN OF ROCKS--MY FRIENDS THE ESQUIMOS
The story of the winter at Cape Sheridan is a story unique in the
experience of Arctic exploration. Usually it is the rule to hibernate as
much as possible during the period of darkness, and the party is
confined closely to headquarters. The Peary plan is different; and
constant activity and travel were insisted on.
There were very few days when all of the members of the expedition were
together, after the ship had reached her destination. Hunting parties
were immediately sent out, for it was on the big game of the country
that the expedition depended for fresh meat. Professor Marvin commenced
his scientific work, and his several stations were all remote from
headquarters; and all winter long, parties were sledging provisions,
equipment, etc., to Cape Columbia, ninety-three miles northwest, in
anticipation of the journey to the Pole. Those who remained at
headquarters did not find life an idle dream. There was something in the
way of work going on all of the time. I was away from the ship on two
hunting trips of about ten days each, and while at headquarters, I
shaped and built over two dozen sledges, besides doing lots of other
work.
Naturally there were frequent storms and intense cold, and in regard to
the storms of the Arctic regions of North Greenland and Grant Land, the
only word I can use to describe them is "terrible," in the fullest
meaning it conveys. The effect of such storms of wind and snow, or rain,
is abject physical terror, due to the realization of perfect
helplessness. I have seen rocks a hundred and a hundred and fifty pounds
in weight picked up by the storm and blown for distances of ninety or a
hundred feet to the edge of a precipice, and there of their own momentum
go hurtling through space to fall in crashing fragments at the base.
Imagine the effect of such a rainfall of death-dealing bowlders on the
feelings of a little group of three or four, who have sought the base
of the cliff for shelter. I have been there and I have seen one of my
Esquimo companions felled by a blow from a rock eighty-four pounds in
weight, which struck him fairly between the shoulder-blades, literally
knocking the life out of him. I have been there, and believe me, I have
been afraid. A hundred-pound box of supplies, taking an aërial joy ride,
during the progress of a storm down at Anniversary Lodge in 1894, struck
Commander Peary a glancing blow which put him out of commission for over
a week. These mighty winds make it possible for the herbivorous animals
of this region to exist. They sweep the snow from vast stretches of
land, exposing the hay and dried dwarf-willows, that the hare,
musk-oxen, and reindeer feed on.
The Esquimo families who came north to Cape Sheridan with us on the
_Roosevelt_ found life much more ideal than down in their native land.
It was a pleasure trip for them, with nothing to worry about, and
everything provided. Some of the families lived aboard ship all through
the winter, and some in the box-house on shore. They were perforce much
cleaner in their personal habits than they were wont to be in their own
home country, but never for an instant does the odor or appearance of an
Esquimo's habitation suggest the rose or geranium. The aroma of an East
Side lunch-room is more like it.
There were thirty-nine Esquimos in the expedition, men, women and
children; for the Esquimo travels heavy and takes his women and children
with him as a matter of course. The women were as useful as the men, and
the small boys did the ship's chores, sledging in fresh water from the
lake, etc. They were mostly in families; but there were several young,
unmarried men, and the unattached, much-married and divorced Miss
"Bill," who domiciled herself aboard the ship and did much good work
with her needle. She was my seamstress and the thick fur clothes worn on
the trip to the Pole were sewn by her. The Esquimos lived as happily as
in their own country and carried on their domestic affairs with almost
the same care-free irregularity as usual. The best-natured people on
earth, with no bad habits of their own, but a ready ability to
assimilate the vices of civilization. Twenty years ago, when I first
met them, not one used tobacco or craved it. To-day every member of the
tribe has had experience with tobacco, craves it, and will give most
everything, except his gun, to get it. Even little toddlers, three and
four years old, will eat tobacco and, strange to say, it has no bad
effect. They get tobacco from the Danish missionaries and from the
sailors on board the whaling, seal, and walrus-ships. Whisky has not yet
gotten in its demoralizing work.
It is my conviction that the life of this little tribe is doomed, and
that extinction is nearly due. It will be caused partly by themselves,
and partly by the misguided endeavors of civilized people. Every year
their number diminishes; in 1894, Hugh J. Lee took the census of the
tribe, and it numbered two hundred and fifty-three; in 1906, Professor
Marvin found them to have dwindled to two hundred and seven. At this
writing I dare say their number is still further reduced, for the latest
news I have had from the Whale Sound region informs me that quite a
number of deaths have occurred, and the birth-rate is not high. It is
sad to think of the fate of my friends who live in what was once a land
of plenty, but which is, through the greed of the commercial hunter,
becoming a land of frigid desolation. The seals are practically gone,
and the walrus are being quickly exterminated. The reindeer and the
musk-oxen are going the same way, for the Esquimos themselves now hunt
inland, when, up to twenty years ago, their hunting was confined to the
coast and the life-giving sea.
They are very human in their attributes, and in spite of the fact that
their diet is practically meat only, their tempers are gentle and mild,
and there is a great deal of affection among them. Except between
husband and wife, they seldom quarrel; and never hold spite or
animosity. Children are a valuable asset, are much loved, never scolded
or punished, and are not spoiled. An Esquimo mother washes her baby the
same way a cat washes her kittens. There are lots of personal habits the
description of which might scatter the reading circle, so I will desist
with the bald statement, that, for them, dirt and filth have no
terrors.