THE HUT.
WE now made for Cape Parry with all speed, though this was slow speed.
The young ice which covered the bay was too old for us, or, at any rate,
it was too strong for easy progress. It was sunset when we reached the
cape. Beyond this there had been open water seen by us for many days
past, from the elevated points of observation which we had sought. From
this point, therefore, we expected free sailing southward, and rapid
progress toward safety and our homes. But here we were at last at Cape
Parry against a pack which extended far southward. In our desperation we
tried to force the boats through. The "Ironsides" was badly battered,
and the "Hope" made sadly leaky by the operation, and no progress was
made. We then pushed slowly down the shore through a lead, and having
gone about seven miles, darkness and the ice brought us to a stand, and
we drew up for the night.
In the morning we observed a lead going south from the shore at a point
twelve miles distant. For six days, bringing us to the twenty-seventh of
September, we fought hard to reach the lead, but failed. We could now
neither retreat nor go forward. Ice and snow were every-where. The sun
was running low in the heavens, seeming to rise only to set; and soon
the night, which was to have no sunrise morning until February, would be
upon us. Our food was sufficient for not more than two weeks, and our
fuel of blubber for the lamp only was but enough for eight or ten days.
Our condition seemed almost without hope, but it had entered into our
calculations as a possible contingency, and we girded ourselves for the
struggle for life, trusting in the Great Deliverer.
We were about sixteen miles below Cape Parry, and about midway between
Whale Sound and Wolstenholme Sound. We pitched our tent thirty yards
from the sea on a rocky upland. After securing in a safe place the boats
and equipments, we began to look about us for a place to build a hut. It
was, indeed, a dreary, death-threatening region. Time was too pressing
for us to think of building an Esquimo hut, if, indeed, our strength and
skill was sufficient.
While we were looking round and debating what to build and where, one of
our party found a crevice in a rock. This crevice ran parallel with the
coast, and was opposite to, and near, the landing. It was eight feet in
width, and level on the bottom. The rock on the east side was six feet
high, its face smooth and perpendicular, except breaks in two places,
making at each a shelf. On the other--the ocean side--the wall was
scarcely four feet high, round and sloping; but a cleft through it made
an opening to the crevice from the west.
We at once determined to make our hut here, as the natural walls would
save much work in its construction. The only material to be thought of
was rocks. These we had to find beneath the snow, and then loosen them
from the grasp of the frost. For this we fortunately had an
ice-chisel--a bar of iron an inch in diameter and four feet long, bent
at one end for a handle, and tempered and sharpened at the other. With
this Bonsall loosened the rocks, and others bore them on their shoulders
to the crevice. When a goodly pile was made we began to construct the
walls. Instead of mortar we had sand to fill in between the stones. This
was as hard to obtain as the stones themselves, as it had to be first
picked to pieces with the ice-chisel, then scooped up with our tin
dinner plates into cast-off bread-bags, and thus borne to the builders.
This work was done by four of us only, the other four being engaged in
hunting, to keep away threatened starvation. In two days our walls were
up. They run across the crevice, that is, east and west, were fourteen
feet apart, four feet high, and three thick. The natural walls being
eight feet apart, our hut was thus in measurement fourteen feet by
eight. The entrance was through the cleft, from the ocean side. We laid
across the top of this door-way the rudder of the "Hope," and erected on
it the "gable." One of the boat's masts was used for a ridgepole, and
the oars for rafters. Over these we laid the boats' sails, drew them
tightly, and secured them with heavy stones. Being sadly deficient in
lumber, Petersen constructed a door of light frame-work and covered it
with canvas; he hung it on an angle, so that when opened it shut of its
own weight. A place was left for a window over the door-way, across
which we drew a piece of old muslin well greased with blubber, and
through which the somber light streamed when there was any outside.
We then endeavored to thatch the roof and "batten" the cracks
every-where with moss. But to obtain this article we had to scour the
country far and near, dig through the deep snow, having tin dinner
plates for shovels, wrench it from the grip of the frost with our
ice-chisel, put it in our bread-bags and "back it" home.
In four days, in spite of all obstacles, our hut assumed a homelike
appearance--at least homelike compared with our present quarters. We
said: "To-morrow we shall move into it and be comparatively
comfortable." But that day brought the advance force of a terrific storm
of wind and snow. It caught some of us three miles from the tent. We
huddled together in our thin hemp canvas tent and slept as best we
could. Two of our company crawled out in the morning to prepare our
scanty meal. They found the hut half full of snow, which had sifted
through the crevices. But they brought to the tent's company a hot
breakfast after some hours' toil; we ate and our spirits revived.
We tried all possible expedients to pass away the time, but the hours
moved slowly. The storm continued to howl and roar about us with
unceasing fury for four days. Our little stock of food was diminishing,
our hut was unfinished, and winter was upon us in earnest. Our situation
was one of almost unmitigated misery.
On Friday, October sixth, the storm subsided, and nature put on a
smiling face. We renewed our work on the hut, clearing it of snow with
our dinner-plate shovels, and then, under greater difficulties than
ever, because the snow was deeper and our strength less, we finished it.
The internal arrangements were as follows: an aisle or floor, three feet
wide, extended from the door across the hut. On the right, as one
entered, was a raised platform of stone and sand about eighteen inches
high. On this we spread our skins and blankets. Here five of us were to
sleep. On the back corner of the other side was a similar platform, or
"breck" as the Esquimo would call it; here three men were to sleep. In
the left-hand corner, near the door, Petersen had extemporized a stove
out of some tin sheathing torn from the "Hope," with a funnel of the
same material running out of the roof. This sort of fire-place stove
held two lamps, a saucepan, and kettle. On a post which supported the
roof hung a small lamp.
Into this hut we moved October ninth. Compared with the tent it was
comfortable. It was evening when we were settled. At sundown Petersen
came in with eight sea-fowl, so we celebrated the occasion with a stew
of fresh game, cooked in our stove with the staves of our blubber kegs,
and we added to our meal a pot of hot coffee.
The supper done, we talked by the dim light of our moss taper. A storm,
which was heralded during the day, was raging without in full force,
burying us in a huge snow-bank. We discussed calmly our duties and
trials, and we all lay down prayerfully to sleep.
What shall we do now? was the question of the morning. Indeed, it was
the continual question. John reported our stores thus: "There's three
quarters of a small barrel of bread, a capful of meat biscuit, half as
much rice and flour, a double handful of lard--and that's all." Our
vigilant hunting thus far had resulted in seventeen small birds; that
was all. Some of us had tried to eat the "stone moss," a miserable
lichen which clung tenaciously to the stones beneath the snow. But it
did little more than stop for awhile the gnawings of hunger, often
inducing serious illness; yet this seemed our only resort.
The storm still raged. We were all reclining upon the brecks except
John, who was trying to cook by a fire which filled our hut with smoke,
when we were startled by a strange sound. "What is it?" we asked. We
could not get out, so we listened at the window. "It was the wind," we
said, for we could hear nothing more. In a half hour it was repeated
clearer and louder. We opened the door by drawing the snow into the
house, and made a little opening through the drift so we could see
daylight. "It was the barking of a fox," says one. "No," said another,
"it was the growling of a bear." Whipple, who was half asleep,
muttered, "It was just nothing at all."
While these remarks were being made the Esquimo shout was clearly
recognized. Petersen put his mouth to the aperture in the snow and
shouted, "Huk! huk! huk!" After much shouting, two bewildered Esquimo
entered our hut. They were from Netlik, the village we had last left,
and one was Kalutunah. Their fur dress had a thick covering of snow,
and, hardy though they were, they looked weary almost to faintness. They
each held in one hand a dog-whip, and in the other a piece of meat and
blubber. They threw down the food, thrust their whip-stocks under the
rafters, hung their wet outer furs upon them, and at once made
themselves at home. The chief hung around Dr. Hayes, saying fondly,
"Doctee! doctee!"
John put out his smoking fire, at the Angekok's request, and used his
blubber in cooking a good joint of the bear meat. We all had a good meal
at our guests' expense. Necessity was more than courtesy with hungry
men.
While the cooking and eating were going on, we listened to the marvelous
story of the Esquimo. They left Netlik, forty miles north, the morning
of the previous day on a hunting excursion with two dog-sledges. The
storm overtook them far out upon the ice in search of bear, and they
sheltered themselves in a snow hut for the night. Fearing the ice might
break up they turned to the land, which they happened to strike near our
boats and tent. Knowing we must be near, they picketed their dogs under
a sheltering rock and commenced tramping and shouting.
The supper eaten, the story told, and the curiosity of our visitors
satisfied in closely observing every thing, we made for them the best
bed possible, tucked them in, and they were soon snoring lustily.
In the morning we tunneled a hole from our door through the snow.
Kalutunah and Dr. Hayes went to the sea-shore. The dogs were howling
piteously, having been exposed to all the fury of the storm during the
night without the liberty of stirring beyond their tethers. Besides,
they had been forty-eight hours without food, having come from home in
that time through a widely deviating track. Every thing about them was
carefully secured which could be eaten, and they were loosened.
Dr. Hayes turned toward the hut, and having reached the snow-tunnel he
was about to stoop down to crawl through it, when he observed the whole
pack of thirteen snapping, savage brutes at his heels. Had he been on
his knees they would have made at once a meal of him. They stood at bay
for a moment, but seeing he had no means of attack, one of them
commenced the assault by springing upon him. Dr. Hayes caught him on his
arm, and kicked him down the hill. This caused a momentary pause. No
help was near, and to run was sure death. It was a fearful moment, and
his blood chilled at the prospect of dying by the jaws of wolfish dogs,
whose fierce and flashing eyes assured him that hunger had given them a
terrible earnestness. His eye improved the moment's respite in sweeping
the circle of the enemy for the means of escape, and he caught a glimpse
of a dog-whip about ten feet off. Instantly he sprang as only a man thus
situated could spring, and clearing the back of the largest of the dogs,
seized the whip. He was now master of the situation. Never amiable, and
terribly savage when prompted by hunger, yet the Esquimo dog is always a
coward. Dr. Hayes's vigorous blows, laid on at right and left with much
effect and more sound and fury, sent the pack yelping away.
In our discussions of the question of subsistence, we had about decided
that we must draw our supplies from the Esquimo or perish. Our hunting
was a failure, and our supply of food was about exhausted. So when
Kalutunah came back we proposed to him through Petersen to purchase
blubber and bear meat with our treasures of needles, knives, etc., so
valuable in the eyes of the natives. He looked at our sunken cheeks and
desolate home with a knowing twinkle of his eye, and a crafty expression
on his besotted face. This was followed by the questions, "How much
shoot with mighty guns? how much food you bring from ship?" These
questions, and the speaking eye and tell-tale face, were windows through
which we saw into the workings of his dark heathen mind. They meant, as
we understood them, "If you are going to starve we had better let you.
We shall then get your nice things without paying for them."
But Petersen understood and outmanaged the crafty chief.
"How we going to live?" he boldly exclaimed, facing the questioner.
"Live! Shoot bear when we get hungry, sleep when we get tired; Esquimo
will bring us bear, we shall give them presents, and sleep all the time.
White man easily get plenty to eat. Always plenty to eat, plenty sleep."
The glory of life from the Esquimo point of view is plenty to eat and
nothing to do. They held those who had attained to this high estate in
profound respect. The starving could scarcely be brought within the
range of their consideration. Hence the policy adopted by Petersen, and
it had its desired effect. Kalutunah and his companion tarried another
night, and departed promising to return with such food as the hunt
afforded, and exchange it for our valuables.
Two weeks--days of misery--passed before their return. We set fox-traps,
constructed much after the style of the rabbit-traps of the boys at
home, tramping for this purpose over the coast-line for ten miles. One
little prisoner only rewarded our pains, while the saucy villains showed
themselves boldly by day, barking at us from the top of a rock, dodging
across our path at the right and left, and even following us within
sight of the hut. But all this was done at a safe distance from our
guns.
Petersen went far out to sea on the ice, but neither bear nor seal
rewarded his toil. We had burned up our lard keg for our semi-daily fire
to cook our scanty meals, and now, with a sorrow that went to our
hearts, began to break up the "Hope." We knew this step argued badly for
the future, but what could we do? Besides, it was poor, water-soaked
fuel, and would last but a little while. We saved the straightest and
best pieces for trade with the Esquimo.
Our scanty meals, badly helped by the stone moss, told upon our health.
Stephenson gasped for breath with a heart trouble; Godfrey fainted, and
was happily saved a serious fall by being caught in John's arms.