Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter XIV
CHAPTER XIV.
Visited by more Innuits—Perils on the Ice—Innuits carried out to Sea—Starvation—Dogs eaten—Three months away from Land—Return of the Party, mere Skeletons—Thrilling Incidents—An Innuit carried down by a Whale and afterwards saved—A Man's Leg snapped off—Suzhi's Husband killed by an Avalanche—Incidents of White Men's Perils and Escapes—Heavy Snowstorm—Danger to Mate Rogers and his Innuit Guide—Dog Barkekark saves them—Commencement of Spring—Author's Occupations—Makes some Instruments for his Use in exploring—Plans—Strange Information gathered from the Natives—Tradition concerning White Men—Frobisher's Expedition.
For several days after the search which was made for poor Brown on the 17th of March, I was much troubled with boils, the result of eating the ship's salt meats, which caused great prostration, and rendered me unable to do anything but take a few observations and register the weather. It was noticed by every one that I had considerably decreased in weight; indeed, my whole frame showed signs of hard usage, and that I was getting emaciated; but, having a good constitution, I soon recruited, and after a short period of rest, I was able to get about my work again.
On the 20th of March several of our Innuit friends arrived from various places where they had been hunting and sealing, thus striving to find means of subsistence.
The Innuits are, as I have frequently said, most persevering sealers, and will go, with their dogs, even in the very coldest of weather, and under most dangerous circumstances, to hunt for seal-holes. The sagacious dog, on snuffing the air and finding it charged with seal odour, follows it to the windward till he leads his master to the very spot where a seal has its hole. The man then proceeds prospecting with his spear through one to three feet depth of snow, until he finds the small opening in the ice leading to the main seal-hole. The hole found, the long spindle shank of the spear is withdrawn, carefully avoiding all disturbance of the snow. Then the sealer remains silently and patiently listening for a seal's "blow."
On hearing the second or third "puff," the spear is forcibly struck through the snow to the seal-hole, the harpoon penetrating the unseen seal's head. The seal instantly dives, and runs out the full length, say six to ten fathoms, of the line
AN ESQUIMAUX AND HIS SEAL DOG.
that connects the harpoon to the harpooner. The seal's breathing-hole is then "unsnowed" and enlarged to the size of the main, when the prize is drawn forth.
Thus seal-holes are found and seals captured during the long winters of the North.
Among the Innuits just referred to as now arrived were Ugarng, Ebierbing, and Tookoolito; and I was glad to find them well, though the latter two had suffered considerably since I had been with them.
Tookoolito informed me that a short time after my departure from Cornelius Grinnell Bay, the Innuit "Jack," while out sealing, had nearly lost his life by falling through the ice into the swiftly-running tide. He only saved himself by catching his chin on to the edge of some firm ice just as the current was sweeping him under, but his gun, powder, and everything else belonging to him was carried away. She also told me that the angeko, whom I have formerly mentioned as being so lazy, had, with his two wives and this same "Jack," nearly perished by being driven out to sea on some ice that broke away. They had gone on a sealing excursion several miles up the coast, northerly and easterly of where I had spent my time during the trip of January and February All at once the ice on which they were became detached, and away they drifted to sea. In a few days wind and tide set the floe back again, and thus they escaped a terrible death.
Ebierbing related to me several incidents of the fearful exposure of his Innuit friends, who had, at various times, been swept away from land on the sea-ice.
In the winter of 1859, the Innuit "Sampson," and a party of fifteen others, were out walrus hunting on the ice in Frobisher Bay, when a gale came on, and drove the ice out to sea. Escape was impossible. On and on the ice moved. The despairing Innuits erected an igloo, and then awaited their fate. The cold was so terribly severe that most of the dogs perished. Two survived for some time, but had finally to be eaten as food. Thus for thirty days the Innuits continued, until at length the ice upon which they were floating united to some near the land, and they were enabled to reach an island in the bay. Thence they got upon the main shore, and returned to their families alive, but such skeletons in form that they were hardly recognisable by their friends. One of the party, from weakness, had fallen into the sea, but was taken out again, his garments immediately freezing hard upon him. The Innuits, Sharkey, Kop-e-o, whom I called "Dick," and most of those now at the lower village, were of this company.
Another incident mentioned to me was that a party of Innuits, a few years ago, went out on the sea-ice walrus hunting, and being driven away from land, were unable to reach it for three months! Fortunately for them, however, they did not suffer as the others had done. Walruses were caught, and thus they were enabled to exist.
Not a winter passes but similar occurrences take place among the Innuits. Indeed, during our stay in Rescue Harbour several persons were carried away on the ice, but in a day or two afterward succeeded in getting ashore again.
Numerous anecdotes of remarkable escapes were at different times related to me by the Innuits. One or two may be aptly brought forward here. The following was told me by Tookoolito.
In the spring of 1857, a company of Esquimaux, natives of Northumberland Inlet, were far out on the floe, by open water, for the purpose of whaling. A whale was at length seen moving leisurely along within striking distance, when the Esquimaux succeeded in making fast to it by four harpoons, each of which was fastened by a ten to fifteen fathom line of ookgook hide to a drug made of an uncut sealskin inflated like a life-preserver.
By some incautious act of one of the harpooners, one of his legs became entangled in the line, and quick as thought the whale dragged him down into the sea out of sight. His companions were horror-stricken, and for awhile all around was still as death. The whole party earnestly peered out upon the blue waters far and near, looking for the reappearance of their comrade. They paced to and fro; when at last a shout came from one of their number—"The lost is found!"—which brought all to one spot.
The circumstance which led to this fortunate discovery was the sight simply of the finger-tips of one hand clinging to the top edge of the floe. The rescuers, on looking over the verge, found the almost dead man moving his lips, as if crying for aid, but his voice was gone; not even a whisper responded to his most desperate struggles to articulate. Another minute, it was certain, would have sealed his fate—an ocean grave.
It seems that, on coming up from the "great deep," the unfortunate harpooner had attempted to draw himself on to the floe, but this he was too enfeebled to do. When this whale turned flukes, as it instantly did on being struck, it went down perpendicularly for soundings, as the Mysticetus (Greenland whale) generally does. Its great speed, and the resistance of the "drug," with that of the drag of the victim's body, caused such a strain upon the line that it parted. On this very fortunate moment the buoyant "drug" shot up like an arrow, bringing with it its precious freight—a living soul. A few weeks after this same whale, with the four harpoons fast to it, was found in drift ice dead. The Esquimaux state that whenever a harpoon penetrates to the flesh of the whale, it will surely die. Harpoons struck into the blubber, and remaining there, will not prove fatal; it is only so when it goes through the blubber into the "krang," (flesh).
Another incident, but of a most fatal character, occurred not many years ago in Field Bay. A party of Innuits were out in two oo-mi-ens (large skin boats) when a whale was struck. The line, in running out, whipped round a leg of the harpooner, instantly tearing it from the body at the hip-joint! The shock capsized the boat and all that were therein. The sea all around the victim became thick with oug (blood). A landing was early sought and effected, but the poor creature soon died.
The following sad accident was also related to me: Koo-ou-le-arng's wing-a (husband) was killed, when Ebierbing was a boy, at Kingaite, in Northumberland Inlet. He was out sealing near the base of the high land (Kingaite signifies high land), when an avalanche of snow came suddenly upon him, not only overwhelming him, but a large extent of ice, carrying it and him down, far down into the sea. Being missed, he was tracked to the fatal spot, but no other traces of him were ever discovered.
While on this subject I may as well relate one or two occurrences narrated to me by whaling captains, which show that white men often do go through seven perils, and endure the same sort of life as the Esquimaux.
Captain Sisson, on one occasion, told me of a shipwreck that occurred in September, 1853, forty miles north of Cape East, in Kamtschatka. The crew were obliged to remain about eleven months on shore, living among the natives in a perfectly helpless condition, and without anything of value. Yet they were well treated, and soon acquired the habits of the natives, eating the same food, and living in the same manner; and finally, without the loss of a man, came away quite fat and healthy.
Again, another case may be mentioned as reported to me. In the fall of 1851, Captain Quayle, of the M'Clelland, whaler, from New London, entered a harbour in Northumberland Inlet, but, not meeting with success, it was proposed that some of the ship's company should winter there with a view to commence whaling in the spring, if that should be practicable. The first mate, now Captain S. O. Budington, and W. Sterry, with ten other volunteers, agreed to do so. Except the first officer, the whole were single young men.
The understanding was that the M'Clelland should return for them by the next July; and meanwhile provisions, two boats, and various other effects, were placed on shore for their use.
The twelve men now went to work to make preparation for their stay. A house was built of stone, filling in the walls with turf, and snow on the outside, making a total thickness of six feet. The roof was made of sealskins sewed together and placed on poles. For a window, which was in the roof, intestines of the whale answered well. The stove served for cooking and heating, and coal had been left for fuel; but this becoming exhausted by the end of December, an admirable substitute was found in some skeletons of whales, which were discovered frozen in the ice some thirty miles distant, and were transported to the house by means of dogs and sledges. The bone burned well, being full of oil, and it was easily cut up with an axe.
An incident connected with the transport of this bone is worthy of record. One day in February, a younger brother of Captain Quayle, with a companion, set out for the bone dépôt on a dog-sledge. On their return a furious snow-storm came on, and the dogs, as well as the men, lost their way. Darkness overtaking them, they determined to rest till morning under the lee of an island, but during the whole night it was a terrible battle for life. The only salvation for them was in pounding each other, wrestling, tumbling, kicking, &c. Occasionally the "death-sleep" would be found creeping over them, when all their strength and resolution were called into action in the manner just described. The next day they arrived in safety at the house.
The stock of provisions left with the party was exhausted before any ship arrived, but whale-meat, seals, venison, and ducks were found in abundance. The natives also were very kind, sharing with them whatever game they found. Thus they lived until September, 1852, when Captain Parker, in an English whaler, took them away.
On March 27th another man came near being frozen to death. Strangely enough, it was Bruce, the very companion of the unfortunate Brown!
It appeared that Bruce, who was still under attacks of scurvy, had again gone to the Innuit settlement at Oopungnewing, but one morning suddenly determined upon returning to the ship. Esquimaux "Bob," with whom he was staying, insisted upon his remaining that day, as the weather was too bad. But no; Bruce would go, and at once started off alone.
Seeing that the white man was apparently bent on his own destruction, or did not know what he was about, the dark-skinned but spotless-hearted and noble-minded Esquimaux "Bob," being himself unable to leave, engaged an Innuit woman, whom we called Bran New, to accompany Bruce The good creature readily did so, and by her means (as Bruce admitted) he was enabled to reach the vessel in safety.
Another circumstance occurred, which, though not very serious in results, might have proved so, had it not been for my dog Barbekark.
On the 28th of March Mate Rogers started for the whaling dépôt in Frobisher Bay. He had with him sundry articles required for spring operations, and a sledge and dogs, driven by Koojesse. Among the dogs was my Greenlander, Barbekark.
They left at 6 a.m. the weather then moderate; but at noon it was blowing a hard gale from the north-east, with thick-falling snow, which continued during the day.
At half-past nine in the evening one of the ship's officers, Mr. Lamb, going upon deck, heard the cry of dogs, and soon found that Mr. Rogers was returning. In a few moments, to our astonishment, for the gale was severe, he and Koojesse, with the sledge, arrived alongside, and soon afterward the mate was down in the cabin, but so completely overpowered by exhaustion that he could hardly speak. His face was the only spot, in appearance, human about him, and even this was covered with snow-wreaths pelted at him by the ruthless storm.
After sufficient time for restoration, he related the incidents of the past fifteen hours. It appears that, as they passed from Chapell Inlet to Field Bay, at about 1 o'clock p.m. it blew quite a gale, and the air was so filled with snow that they could hardly see the dogs before them. Here Koojesse advised that they should build an igloo, and remain in it until the end of the gale, but Mr. Rogers thought it better they should return home to Rescue Harbour, after resting a few minutes and refreshing themselves with some snow-water. This, with some difficulty, they obtained, and at two they started back for the vessel.
At first they got on pretty well as far as Parker's Bay, keeping the ridge of mountains running south-east and north-west on their left, and within sight. On reaching Parker's Bay, they then struck across the ice toward the ship. This was almost fatal to them. Esquimaux dogs are often unmanageable when it is attempted to force them in the teeth of a storm, and so it proved now. The leader of the team, a dog belonging to the Innuit Charley, lost his way, and confused all the rest. The snow-storm was upon them in all its fury, and men, as well as dogs, were becoming blinded. Presently the leading dog directed the team towards some islands near the head of the bay; but, on approaching them, it was seen that Barbekark was struggling to make a different route, and these islands convinced the two human minds that dog sagacity, when known to be true, was best when left to itself in such emergencies. Accordingly, Barbekark was allowed to have his own way, and in a short time he led them direct to the ship.
I asked Mr. Rogers what they had intended to do if the vessel could not be found. His reply was, that when it became dark, Koojesse had once proposed to stop for the night on the ice, and, to insure as much safety as possible, they were to throw themselves among the dogs, cover themselves with the two bearskins they had, and thus try to preserve life until daylight would help to show them where they were.
The end of this adventure was, that Koojesse remained so far blind for days that he could not see to do anything; and Mr. Rogers's face, in its uncovered portions, had actually turned to a deep dark red, while the shielded parts were perfectly white, thus showing what contrasts these Northern storms can paint in one short day.
A lesson to be gathered from this, as I then thought, and still believe, is to allow the natives to do what they consider best in such times. They thoroughly understand the way to prepare for and withstand the warring elements of their own regions, and it is well for white men always to heed their advice, however unreasonable it may seem to be at the time.
On the 8th of April the cooking apparatus and other material were moved up from below, where they had been during the whole winter, and thus what we might call symptoms of spring (though there is no real spring in those regions) presented themselves. But here a few extracts from my diary at this time may be suitable.
"April 8th, 1861.—This p.m. the party of eight which left the George Henry last Sunday for Frobisher Bay, to trade for walrus meat, returned. They were accompanied by the Innuit Sharkey, a man as dark-coloured as a negro. A large quantity of walrus meat was obtained, which furnished us with abundant fresh food for ourselyes, and plenty for the dogs. To-day we had venison for dinner."
The First Traditionary History gained from the Esquimaux relating to Frobisher's Expedition.
About the 1st of April, 1861, there was quite an intelligent Esquimaux, named Koojesse, in the neighbourhood where I was (Rescue Harbour), who occasionly, in his communications, made reference, in a vague way, to a certain matter which at first excited but little of my attention, and yet, in the sequel, it will be seen that it related to what was of the most important character. I had several conversations with this Esquimaux in the presence of Captain Budington, who, being more proficient at that time than myself in the Innuit vernacular, assisted me as interpreter.
This native spoke of a time long, long ago, when kod-lu-nas (white men) built a vessel on an island in the bay lower down (Frobisher Bay). Spoke also of brick ("mik-e-oo-koo-loo oug," small red pieces), timber, chips, &c. as having been left there.
The idea of a vessel having been built in those regions seemed too improbable to be entertained for a moment. So unreasonable did the story appear of constructing a ship in such a perfectly woodless country, that I thought it a waste of time and paper to make a record of it; therefore what transpired in the first two or three interviews with the Esquimaux Koojesse, in relation to this subject, is not in my original notes. Finally, in a few days, I began in my reflections to connect the Esquimaux report with the time when Martin Frobisher made his discoveries, and simultaneously commenced to make record of whatever was stated to be in subsequent interviews.
The commencement of said notes is under date of April 9th, 1861. I now extract them from my original journal, as made immediately after an interview with the Esquimaux Koojesse on the p.m. of same date:—
"Among the traditions handed down from one generation to another, there is this: that many—very many years ago, some white men built a ship on one of the islands of Frobisher Bay, and went away.
"I think I can see through this in this way: Frobisher, in 1578, assembled a large part of his fleet in what he called 'Countess of Warwick Sound' (said to be in that bay below us), when a council was held on the 1st of August, at which it was determined to send all persons and things on shore upon 'Countess of Warwick Island!' and on August 2d orders were proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, for the guidance of the company during their abode thereon. For reasons stated in the history, the company did not tarry here long, but departed for 'Meta Incognita,' and thence to England.
"Now, may not the fact of timbers, chips, &c. &c. having been found on one of the islands (within a day's journey of here) many years ago, prove that the said materials were of this Frobisher's company, and that hence the Innuit tradition?
"In a few days I hope to be exploring Frobisher Bay. I may thereafter have something to add to the matter above referred to."—I now turn to other matters in my journal.
"April 9th.—As I write, the main cabin table of the ship is surrounded by natives playing dominoes. There are Ebierbing, Miner and his wife, Charley and his wife, Jim Crow with his wife.
"The gale of to-day has been terrific. One would have to contest sharply with the elements in order to breathe, if outside of the cabin for a moment. In the afternoon an alarm was raised that Sharkey's wife had fallen down the forecastle steps and was dying. It seems that in mounting the stairs leading therefrom with her semi-white child, she was taken with a fainting-fit, in which she fell. Though no bones were fractured, yet she was so severely injured that she has been in a critical condition ever since, and some of the time unconscious.
"April 10th.—This day Sterry left for Frobisher Bay settlement, to remain awhile among the natives. Parties are now very often going backward and forward, conveying ship's material to the intended whaling depot at Cape True.[1] In the evening there was another magnificent display of the aurora. At 9 o'clock a long line or arch, extending from the west to the east, began to rise from the horizon. I noticed a peculiarity of this night's display worthy of record. When the centre of the auroral arch had risen about three degrees above the horizon, a long line of narrow black clouds rested parallel with the base of the aurora. Slowly the arch mounted the heavens, the clouds all this time becoming less and less black, until they were finally exhausted. The clouds were as dark as 'thunder-clouds' when I first saw them. In half an hour the stars shone brightly where they had been. They seemed to follow upward as the arch lifted. When the arch became elevated 25°, other belts of aurora sprang into action, so that there was a sight worth the admiration of beings even superior to man!
"To-day I have purchased of the captain the chronometer that had belonged to the Rescue. I intend to make record of all the observations I take, leaving most of them to be worked up on my return home. Some undoubtedly will prove to be erroneous; but I shall do what I can to make all my observations reliable. There is nothing that has weighed more heavily upon me than the want of a good time-piece. When I make my journey westward and northward to King William's Land, I shall require the chronometer. Indeed, I need it in my journey up Frobisher Bay this spring. I am anxious to perform work that shall redound to the credit of those who have so generously, so nobly assisted me in my outfit for the voyage I am making here in the North. God giving me health and help in the prosecution of my work, I will do my duty as a geographer and a humanitarian.
"April 12th.—This morning is gloriously fine. I must do out-door work to-day. I will off for a trip up Budington Mount, and from its peak take some angles and bearings of prominent places around and about the bay. * * * Just returned, and a fine time I have had of it. It was, however, dangerous business going up the mountain's steep, icy, and hard, snow-covered sides, but it was even worse coming down. Any one who is experienced in mountain excursions, especially in these regions, must know that the latter is far more difficult than the former.
"When at the summit it was very interesting. I had an Innuit companion with me, and, while I took my observations, he slept on a bed of snow, and seemed as comfortable as any white man on a bed of down. As we descended, he made steps for us with a long, sharp stone which he had picked up for the purpose; but even then we had to exercise great caution. A mishap might have endangered our lives, and also my instruments.
"To-night the aurora is beautiful as usual. Its rays shoot up somewhat more dome-like than before. It extends northwest around to the south, and thence to the east. How many are the times I am blessed with the sight of this phenomenon. Its changes are constantly going on. I never see it twice alike. Every moment the scene changes. In bright disorder, the heavens are almost nightly painted with the blaze of this incomparable, incomprehensible light. As its brightness oft is mirrored by my eyes and soul, I often feel that I am truly
"'Arrayed in glory and enthroned in light.'
"Eleven o'clock, night.—A few minutes ago I came from deck. The aurora then spanned the heavens near to the zenith; a few minutes later—I have just been on deck again—all is gone; not a beam anywhere visible. The stars have it now all to themselves, Jupiter bearing the palm, as he outshines them all.
"April 15th.—Have had a long tramp to-day round the head of Field Bay, triangulating and making observations. Koojesse accompanied me for awhile, but the charms of sealing soon took him away, and some time afterward, when I was on a mountain peak, I saw him at a distance, by the aid of my glass, most unmercifully punishing his dog, probably because the poor animal could not find a seal igloo. The Innuits, when they do punish dogs, beat them cruelly.
"April 17th.—Yesterday I took my first lunar observation. I did it alone, expecting only to obtain an approximation to the true longitude of this place. To-day I have taken another, with assistants to measure altitudes at the same time.
"I have had equally unexpected success in making some of my own instruments. Being without a protractor, I made one, the other day, from a piece of copper which had formed a portion of the Rescue's sheathing; and this served a double purpose, being useful in my chart-work, and also remaining as a relic of the once memorable expedition schooner. Another instrument I had also to make, and succeeded in making, though it occupied much time, namely, an artificial horizon. I constructed it with various contrivances of my own, and now I have both these instruments by me as pleasing mementoes of my sojourn in these dreary regions, where no stores exist to supply me with articles so indispensable.
April 19th.—To-day I was not a little amused to see the rig in which the laughing Innuit Sharkey appeared. A present was made him of a new wool shirt, edged all round, except the flaps, with scarlet—bright flaming red. He proudly strutted around among us white folk with this on the outside of all his other clothes, wearing it like a frock!
"April 20th.—To-day the snow embankment around the ship has been taken away, and the crew are busy putting the vessel in complete order for service. Paint and varnish are now freely used in the process of renovation.
April 21st.—I am preparing to go over to-morrow to the Innuit settlement on Frobisher Bay, intending to explore around the waters mapped out by the geographers as Frobisher Strait. My wish is to chart the lands around that place within the next month, and even to do much more. Koojesse has promised to go over with me if the weather will permit.
"I have omitted to mention the 'spot' on the sun that I first saw on the 19th when taking observations. At the moment I thought it was a defect in my sextant glass, but afterward found it to be on the face of old Sol.
"Twenty minutes before midnight.—I have just returned from deck entranced by the fires that are burning in the heavens! A new play to-night by the aurora—at least so to me. Going up, I saw that the moon was struggling to penetrate, with her borrowed light, the white clouds that enshrouded her. Looking around, I found the heavens covered with petite dancers clothed in white. My powers of description of this peculiar appearance and workings of the aurora at this time are inadequate. There is no colour in the aurora to-night; it is simply white, like the world beneath it.
"Midnight.—I have been on deck again. I am now satisfied that I have occasionally seen the aurora during this month in the daytime, when the sun was well up in its course and shining brightly.
"I now retire to my couch for some refreshing sleep, preparatory to making an effort in the morning for commencing the exploration of Frobisher Bay."
- ↑ So named after Benjamin C. True, of Cincinnati, Ohio. Cape True is in lat. 62° 33′ N. long. 64° 55′ W.