SEEKING THE ESQUIMO.
DECEMBER twenty-fifth came, and our ice-bound, darkness-enshrouded,
sick, or, in a measure, health-broken explorers tried to make it a merry
Christmas. They all sat down to dinner together. "There was more love
than with the stalled ox of former times, but of herbs none." They
tried, at least, to forget their discomforts in the blessings they still
retained, and to look hopefully on the long distance, and the many
conflicts between them and their home and friends.
Immediately after Christmas a series of attempts were commenced to open
a communication with the Esquimo at Etah, ninety-one miles away. The
supply of fresh meat was exhausted. The traps yielded nothing, and
Hans's hunting could not go on successfully in the dark. The
scurvy-smitten men were failing for the want of it, and so every thing
must be periled to make the journey. The first thing to be done was to
put the dogs, if possible, into traveling order. They were now few in
number, for fifty had died, and the survivors had been kept on short
rations. Their dead companions, which had been preserved in a frozen
state, were boiled and fed to them for fresh food. Dog _did_ eat dog,
and relished and grew stronger on the diet.
Dr. Kane and Petersen made the first attempt, starting on the
twenty-ninth of December. They had scarcely reached the forsaken huts of
Anoatok, "the wind-loved spot," so often used as a resting place, when
the dogs failed. A storm, with a bitter, pelting snow-drift, confined
them awhile. An incident occurred here--one of the many which happened
to the explorers--which shows plainly the unseen, but ever present, eye
and hand which attended them.
They were just losing themselves in sleep when Petersen shouted:
"Captain Kane, the lamp's out!" His commander heard him with a thrill of
horror! The storm was increasing, the cold piercing, and the darkness
intense. The tinder had become moist and was frozen solid. The guns were
outside, to keep them from the moisture of the hut. The only hope of
heat was in relighting the lamp. A lighted lamp and heat they _must_
have. Petersen tried to obtain fire from a pocket-pistol, but his only
tinder was moss, and after repeated attempts he gave it up. Dr. Kane
then tried. He says:--
"By good luck I found a bit of tolerably dry paper in my jumper; and,
becoming apprehensive that Petersen would waste our few percussion caps
with his ineffectual snappings, I took the pistol myself. It was so
intensely dark that I had to grope for it, and in doing so touched his
hand. At that instant the pistol became distinctly visible. A pale,
bluish light, slightly tremulous but not broken, covered the metallic
parts of it, the barrel, lock, and trigger. The stock too was clearly
discernible, as if by the reflected light, and, to the amazement of both
of us, the thumb and two fingers with which Petersen was holding it, the
creases, wrinkles, and circuit of the nails, clearly defined upon the
skin. The phosphorescence was not unlike the ineffectual fire of the
glowworm. As I took the pistol my hand became illuminated also, and so
did the powder-rubbed paper when I raised it against the muzzle.
"The paper did not ignite at the first trial, but the light from it
continuing, I was able to charge the pistol without difficulty, rolled
up my paper into a cone, filled it with moss sprinkled over with powder,
and held it in my hand while I fired. This time I succeeded in producing
flame, and we saw no more of the phosphorescence."
When the storm subsided they made further experiment to reach Etah. But
dogs and men found the wading impossible, and they returned to the brig,
the dogs going ahead and the men walking after them. They made the
forty-four miles of their circuitous route in sixteen hours!
Thus closed the year 1854.
The three following weeks were mainly occupied by Dr. Kane in a careful
preparation for another attempt to reach Etah, this time with Hans. Old
Yellow, one of the five dogs on which success in a measure depended,
stalked about the deck with "his back up," as much as to say, "I must
have more to eat if I am going." Jenny, a mother dog, had quite a family
of little ones. Yellow being very hungry, and not seeing the use of such
young folks, gobbled one of them down before his master could say,
"Don't you." Dr. Kane taking the hint, and thinking that the puppies
would not be dogs soon enough for his use, shared with Yellow the rest
of the litter. So both grew stronger for the journey.
The new year, 1855, came in with a vail of darkness over the prospects
of our explorers. The sick list was large, and threatened to include the
whole party. A fox was caught occasionally, and beyond this stinted
supply there was no fresh meat. On Tuesday, January twenty-third, the
commander and Hans, with the dog-team, turned their faces toward the
Esquimo. All went well for a while, until hope rose of accomplishing the
journey, getting savory walrus, and cheering their sinking comrades.
Suddenly, Big Yellow, in spite of nice puppy soup, gave out, and went
into convulsions. Toodla, the next best animal, failed soon after. The
moon went down, and the dark night was upon the beset but not confounded
heroes. Groping for the ice-foot, they trudged fourteen wretched hours,
and reached the old _igloe_ at Anoatok. The inevitable storm arose, with
its burden of snow driven by a strange, moistening southeast wind,
burying the hut deep and warm. The temperature rose seventy degrees! An
oppressive sensation attacked Dr. Kane and Hans, and alarming symptoms
were developed. Water ran down from the roof, the doctor's sleeping bag
of furs was saturated, and his luxurious eider down, God's wonderful
cold defier, was "a wet swab."
After two days in this comfortless hut, the storm having subsided, they
once again pushed toward Etah! Their sick, failing comrades were the
spur to this desperate effort. But it was in vain, for the deep, moist
snow, the hummocks and the wind, defied even desperate courage. They
returned to the hut and spent another wretched night.
In the morning, in spite of short provisions, exhaustion, continued
snowing, they climbed the ice-foot, and for four haltless hours faced
toward the Esquimo! But in vain. Dr. Kane says: "My poor Esquimo, Hans,
adventurous and buoyant as he was, began to cry like a child. Sick, worn
out, strength gone, dogs fast and floundering, I am not ashamed to admit
that, as I thought of the sick men on board, my own equanimity was at
fault."
Dr. Kane scrambled up a familiar hill that was near and reconnoitered.
He was delighted to see, winding among the hummocks, a level way! He
called Hans to see it. With fresh dogs and fresh supplies, they could
certainly reach Etah. So, after another night at the hut, they returned
to the brig, comforting the sick with the assurance that success would
come on the next trial.
The month closed with only five effective men, including the commander,
and of these some were about as much sick as well. Dr. Kane could not
be spared from his patients, so, February third, Petersen and Hans tried
another Etah adventure. In three days they returned, with a sorrowful
tale from poor Petersen of heroic efforts ending in exhaustion and
defeat.
But God always sent many rays of light through the densest darkness
besetting our explorers to cheer them and inspire hope. The yellow tints
of coming sunlight were at noonday faintly painted on the horizon. The
rabbits prophesied the spring by appearing abroad, and two were shot.
They yielded a pint of raw blood, which the sickest drank as a grateful
cordial. Their flesh was also eaten raw, and with great thankfulness.
Following these moments of comfort came a dismal and anxious night.
Thick clouds over-spread the sky, a heavy mist rendered the darkness
appalling, followed by a drifting snow and a fearful storm. The wind
howled and shrieked through the rigging of the helpless, battered brig,
as if in mockery of her condition and the sufferings of her inmates.
Goodfellow had gone inland with his gun during the brief day, and had
not returned. Roman candles and bluelights were burned to guide him
homeward. Altogether it was a night to excite the superstitious fears of
the sailors, and they proved to be not beyond the reach of such fears.
Tom Hickey, the cook, having been on deck while the gale was in its full
strength, to peer into the darkness for him, ran below declaring that he
had seen Goodfellow moving cautiously along the land-ice and jump down
on the floe. He hurried up his supper to give the tired messmate a warm
welcome, but no one came. Dr. Kane went out with a lantern, looked
carefully around for some hundreds of yards, but found no fresh
footsteps. Tom seriously insisted that he had seen Goodfellow's
apparition!
Such was the state of things when one of the sailors went on deck. There
was hanging in the rigging an old seal-skin bag containing the remnant
of the ship's furs. Its ghostly appearance in ordinary darkness had been
the occasion of much jesting. Now, to the excited imagination of the
sailor, it pounded the mast like the gloved fist of a giant boxer,
glowed with a ghastly light, and muttered to him an unearthly story. He
did not stop to converse with it, but hastened below with the expression
of his fears. His messmates laughed and jeered at his tale, but their
merriment was but the whistling to inspire their own courage.
The morning came and so did Goodfellow, none the worse for his night's
experience. The storm subsided, Hans killed three rabbits, they all
tasted a little and felt better, and the seal-skin bag was never known
from that time to utter a word. _Fears_ may endure for a night but joy
cometh in the morning! Dr. Kane devoutly remarks: "See how often relief
has come at the moment of extremity; see, still more, how the back has
been strengthened to its increasing burden, and the heart cheered by
some unconscious influence of an unseen POWER."