THE WONDERFUL DRIFT.
EARLY in November Captain Tyson saw through his glass, about twelve
miles off to the southeast, the Cary Islands, so they were in the "North
water" of Baffin Bay, and south-west from Cape Parry, where we have been
so many times. From this cape, or a little south of it, it would not be
a great sledge trip to where they last saw the "Polaris," and where they
had reason to think she now was. So our party made one more effort to
reach the shore. The boats being in readiness the night before, they
started early in the morning. Of course their day was now only a noon
twilight, and the _morning_ was most midday. But the floe was not in a
favoring mood. The hummocks were as hard in their usage of the boats and
men as usual. The deceitful cracks in the ice at one time put the lives
of the dogs and men in great peril; and, as if these obstacles were not
enough, a storm brought up its forces against them. They had dragged the
boats half way to the shore when they retreated "before superior
forces."
Their huts being of perishable material, were reconstructed. A little
later the men built a large snow hut as "a reserve." All were weak
through insufficient food. Mr. Meyers was nearly prostrate, and went to
live with the men; Captain Tyson, whose scanty clothing, added to care
and short rations, caused him to suffer much, took up his quarters with
Joe and Hannah, and their little Puney. Not the least of the trial in
the Esquimo huts were the piteous cries of the children for food. Joe
and Hans were out with their guns every day during the three hours'
twilight, hunting seals. The first one captured was shot by Joe,
November sixth. Nearly two weeks passed before any further success
attended the hunters; then several were shot, and Captain Tyson, who was
ready to perish, had one full meal--a meal of uncooked seal meat, skin,
hair, and all, washed down with seal blood. _Some_ others had not been
so long without a full meal, as the bread continued to be stolen.
The _home_ Thanksgiving Day came. A little extra amount of the canned
meat was allowed each one, and all had a taste of mock-turtle soup and
canned green corn, kept for this occasion, to which was added a few
pieces of dried apple. How far it all fell short of the _home_ feast may
be judged by the fact that Captain Tyson, to satisfy the fierce hunger
which remained after dinner, finished "with eating strips of frozen
seals' entrails, and lastly seal skin, hair and all."
The hunters had seen tracks of bears, so they were on the lookout for
them while they hunted seal. One day Joe and Hans went out as usual with
their guns. They lost sight of each other and of the camp. Joe returned
quite late, expecting to find Hans already in his hut. When he learned
that he had not returned, he, as well as others, felt concerned about
him. Accompanied by one of the men, he went in search of him. As the
two, guns in hand, were stumbling over the hummocks, they saw in the
very dim twilight, as they thought, a bear. Their guns were instantly
leveled and brought to the sight, and their mouths almost tasted a
bear-meat supper. "Hold on there! That's not a bear! what is it?" "Why,
it's Hans!" Well, he _did_ look in the darkness like a bear, as in his
shaggy coat he clambered, on all-fours, over the ice-hills.
December came in with its continuous night. Seals could not be
successfully hunted in the darkness, and where seals could not be seen
bears would not make their appearance. The rations became smaller than
ever, and ghastly, horrid starvation seemed encamped among our drifting,
forlorn party. Under these circumstances a specter even _worse_ than
starvation appeared to Joe. To him, at least, it was a terrifying
reality. It was the demon form of Cannibalism! He had looked into the
eyes of the men in the big hut, and they spoke to him of an intention to
save themselves by first killing and eating Hans and family, and then
taking him and his. He and Hannah were greatly terrified, and he handed
his pistol to Captain Tyson, which he was not willing to part with
before. He was assured that the least child should not be touched for so
horrid a purpose without such a defense as the pistol could give.
Christmas came. The last ham had been kept for this occasion, and it was
divided among all, with a few other dainties, in addition to the usual
morsel.
The shore occasionally appeared in the far away distance. They were
drifting through Baffin Bay toward the _western_ side, so that their
craft evidently did not intend to land them at any of the familiar ports
of Greenland. It seemed to have an ambition to drop them nearer home.
As the year was going out, and Joe's family were gnawing away at some
_dried_ seal skin, submitted, to be sure, to a process Hannah called
cooking, a shout was heard from him. "Kayak! kayak!" he cried. He had
shot a seal, and it was floating away. Fortunately the kayak was at
hand, and the game was bagged. As usual, it was divided among all. The
_eyes_ were given to Charlie Polaris, and they were nice in his eyes,
and mouth, too.
New Year's came, and Captain Tyson dined on two feet of frozen seal
entrails, and a little seal fat. There was now nothing to burn except
what little seal blubber they could spare for that purpose. One boat had
been burned, their only sled had gone the same way, and the reckless,
desperate men could hardly be restrained from burning the only one now
remaining, and thus cut off all good hope of final escape. To be sure,
their provocation to this act was very great; the temperature was
thirty-six below zero! In their strait, the desperate expedient was
entertained of trying to get to land. The emaciated men would have to
drag the loaded boat over the hummocky ice without a sledge. The women
and children must be added to the load or abandoned. It would be a
struggle for life against odds more fearful than that which now
oppressed them. But what _should_ they do! God knew! Hark! what shout is
that! "Kayak! kayak!" The kayak was at hand, but it had to be carried a
mile. Yet it paid, for a seal shot by Joe was secured just in time to
keep the men from utter desperation. To this item of comfort another was
added a few days later. The sun reappeared January nineteenth, after an
absence of eighty-three days, and remained shining upon them two hours.
He brought hope to fainting hearts. Through January there was a seal
taken at long intervals, but one always came just before it was too
late! The men continued to grumble and deceive themselves with the idea
of soon getting to Disco, "where rum and tobacco were plenty." How sad
that man can sink _below_ the brute, which, however hungry, never cries
out for "rum and tobacco!"
Leaving for a moment the white men, let us look into the Esquimo huts
and see how the terrible condition of things affects them. The men are
almost always out hunting, but just now, as we step into Joe's snow
dwelling, he is at home. The only light or fire is that which comes from
the scanty supply of seal oil. Captain Tyson is trying to write with a
pencil in his journal, but he appears cold in his scanty covering of
furs, and looks weak and hungry. Joe and Hannah are striving to pass
away the weary hours by playing checkers on an old piece of canvas which
the captain has marked into squares with his pencil. They are using
buttons for men, and seem quite interested in the game. Little Puney is
sitting by, wrapped in a musk-ox skin, uttering at intervals a low,
plaintive cry for food. It is the most cheerful home "on board" the
floe, but surely it is cheerless enough.
We shall not wish to tarry long in the hut of Hans, for besides the
unavoidable misery of the place, Mr. and Mrs. Hans are noted for the
boarders they keep--about their persons. Under the most favorable
circumstances they regard bathing as one of the barbarous customs of
civilization. The reader will recollect that the first experience Mrs.
Hans had of a personal cleansing was on board Dr. Hayes's vessel, and
she then thought it a joke imposed by the white people's religion, too
grievous to be borne. On another exploring vessel she and her husband
were cruelly required to put off their long-worn garments, wash and put
on clean ones, and put the old "in a strong pickle," for an obvious
reason. It is not certainly known that they were ever washed at any
other times.
Mrs. Hans's hut is not in the most tidy order, but the circumstances
must be taken into the account, and also the fact of the sad neglect of
her early domestic education. We have just drifted from her native
land--or, rather, _ice_--where she was married, in Dr. Kane's time, it
being a runaway match, at least on the part of the husband.
Well, here they are, father, mother, and four children, on a voyage
unparalleled in the history of navigation. Mr. and Mrs. Hans do not play
any household games; they do not know what to do at home, except to eat,
and feed the children, and make and mend skin clothing. We know full
well to what sad disadvantage the eating is subjected at the time of our
call, and we are authorized to say, to the credit of Mrs. Hans, that as
to the making and mending, she has been of real service to the men on
this voyage.
The children of Hans cannot fail to attract our attention and sympathy.
Augustina, the first-born, usually fat and rugged if not ruddy, is thin
and pale now, and sits chewing a bit of dried seal skin, or something of
the sort, and trying to get from it a drop of nourishment; her brother,
Tobias, has thrown his head into her lap as she sits on the ground. The
poor little fellow has been sick, unable to eat even the small allowance
of meat given him, and has lived, one hardly knows how, on a little dry
bread. Succi, the four-year-old girl, squats on the ground--that is, the
canvas-covered ice floor--hugging her fur skin about her, and in a low,
moaning tone repeats, "I is _so_ hungry!" Her mother is trying to pick
from the lamp, for the children, a few bits of "tried-out" scraps of
blubber. Little Charlie's head is just discernible in the fur hood
which hangs from the mother's neck at her back. If he gets enough to
eat, which we fear is not the case, he is sweetly ignorant of the perils
of this, his first trip, in the voyage of life. We shall not want to
stay longer in this sad place.
February was a dreadful month on board the floe. The huts were buried
under the snow. It was with difficulty that Joe and Hans, almost the
entire dependence of the party, could go abroad for game, and when they
did they secured a few seals only, very small, and now and then a
dovekie, a wee bit of a pensive sea-bird. Norwhal, the sea unicorn, were
shot in several instances, but they sunk in every case and were lost.
Hunger and fear seemed to possess the men in the large tent, and Joe and
Hannah began to be again terrified by the thought that these hunger-mad
men would kill and eat them.
Now, will not God appear to help those in so helpless a condition? Yes,
his hand has ever been wonderfully apparent in all Arctic perils. On the
second of March, just when the dark cloud of these drifting sufferers
was never darker, it parted, and a flood of light burst upon their camp.
Joe shot an _oogjook_, belonging to the largest species of seal. He was
secured and dragged by all hands to the huts. He measured nine feet,
weighed about seven hundred pounds, and contained, by estimation, thirty
gallons of oil. There was a shout of seal in the camp! The warm blood
was relished like new milk, and drank freely. All eat and slept, and
woke to eat again, and hunger departed for the time from the miserable
huts it had so long haunted. Joe and Hannah dismissed their horrid
visions of cannibalism. God was, the helper of these hungry ones, and
they _were_ helped.