Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter III
CHAPTER III.
Our consort, the Rescue, having rejoined us, it was determined by Captain Budington to depart for his whaling-ground on west side Davis's Straits directly all the necessary preparations about the ship were completed for navigating among the ice. Meanwhile I availed myself of the spare time to frequently visit the shore, and take rambles in the neighbourhood. But, though I find many things in my journal that might be worth mentioning at this period, yet there is so much to be said elsewhere, when I arrive on the actual field of my labours, that I must now hurriedly go over what more occurred at Holsteinborg.
I here make a few extracts from my journal:—
"July 13th.—This afternoon Governor Elberg, with his lieutenant and wife, visited us, and were welcomed to the best of our power. I had promised the governor to show him a collection of Arctic charts brought with me, and also the British Parliamentary Reports of the Searching Expeditions, and the works of Kane, Franklin, Parry, &c. He was greatly interested, making many inquiries that I took pleasure in answering. A map of the United States much attracted his attention, and he asked several questions as to our home progress, and the rise of new cities, inventions, &c. Street-railroads were quite new to him, he never having heard of such in the Old Country.
"He inquired very much about Mr. Grinnell, whose name is as familiar in Greenland as it is in the United States and Europe.
"At our tea the governor partook of two dishes which he then tasted for the first time in Greenland, viz. fresh lobsters and cranberry preserves. He pronounced them 'very good.' American cheese—with which he keeps himself well supplied—he also likes much.
"After an interchange of friendly gifts—that from the governor being an Esquimaux suit of water-proof sealskin—our visitors took their departure, and were rowed on shore by girls, two of them very neatly attired in their native costume.
"This day, in presence of Captain Budington and Lars Kleijt, I have had a prolonged conversation with Adam Beck, an Esquimaux who acted as interpreter for Sir John Ross in 1850–1. Lars can talk much more fluently the English language than Adam Beck. The latter said:—
"'Captain Phillips' (who was with Sir John Ross) 'speak: "Adam Beck, plenty lie." Beck then paused a moment and added, "Sir John Ross very good man—plenty pray—plenty eat—Carl Petersen no speak Husky (Esquimaux) quick—not good Husky speak—small speak Husky!"'
"Adam farther continued, and said, 'he spoke with the Esquimaux at Cape York. They told him two ships had been seen there; that there were plenty of officers and men—much butter and much bread—ships go all to pieces—all die. Adam Beck speak to Peterson, lie! Petersen speak Adam Beck, lie! Carl Petersen plenty lie—d—d lie!'
"Both Captain B and myself are satisfied that Adam Beck told to Sir John Ross exactly what York-Cape Esquimaux told to him. It seems that Commander Phillips and Carl Petersen repeatedly told Beck that he was a liar, and otherwise abused this now almost wreck of a man! The treatment Adam Beck received from Sir John Ross is remembered kindly to this day. Poor Beck was the instrument of communicating fabrications of Cape York Esquimaux, and for this English historians have written him down as the author, when it is not probable that he was, taking all the circumstances into consideration. The stigma cast upon him burns to his very heart's core to this day. Even here his name is blackened by the public notoriety given him abroad as the man who fabricated falsehoods relative to the destruction of two ships near Cape Dudley Digges, and the violent deaths of the officers and men supposed to refer to Sir John Franklin's Expedition.
"Who of us that has not done an act worthy to be so generally condemned could stand up against this tide? Not one in a thousand would do it! Adam Beck is of the 999. He lives on the 'don't care principle.' He has lost all self-respect, for all shun him. I pity him from the bottom of my heart. Would that cheering words like those Sir John Ross were wont to utter when living could be whispered in his ear. Adam Beck is wretched—poor. He has an old, rickety, leaky boat, that some one has abandoned. That is all he has in this world, save the old skins on his back that once warmly covered him. I will strive to show him the respect due as a human being. Though he be an outcast, I know there is in his breast a chord that will vibrate to kindness and humanity.
"Saturday, July 14th.—This afternoon I started out for the mountains accompanied by Adam Beck. I had with me, swinging from my shoulders, my sextant and my glass, and in my pockets, tape-line, geological hammer, chisel, and other traps.
"After some distance we came to a river that it was necessary to cross, but for three miles we could find no practicable ford. At length I determined to strip and wade over, carrying my clothes and effects on my head. The water was intensely cold, and two winds met exactly in my passage, yet the scene was extraordinarily beautiful! The golden sand under my feet—the diamond-shaped waves caused by the angular breezes—the arctic sun pouring down its bright, warm rays from just above the peaks of Greenland's mountains, and reflected from the sparkling waters around me, will never be forgotten.
"On landing, I replaced my clothes and trudged along, gathering many beauteous flowers by the way. Up, up the mountain—steep following steep—away we went, leaving piles of stones—three stones in each (I said in my thoughts, 'Faith, Hope, and Charity')—to mark the way on our downward path, for our route was heretofore unknown by the native or the European population. At length we came to the top of all save the last mountain, which was covered with snow. Here we found the steepness to be such that for a moment I hesitated; but, determined to try and ascend yet higher, I made the attempt. Adam looked up and shook his head, actually falling to the ground, saying he 'would not, could not accompany me for the whole world!' Therefore I had to go alone.
"The peak I was about to climb had the name of 'Woman's Hood,' and I started on my way up it with great caution, erecting piles of 'Faith, Hope, and Charity' at intervals, to guide me back. Every now and then I was obliged to desist. The sun in the northwest was pouring on my back compound rays, in addition to the dazzling glare reflected from the sea. The exertion made was immense. Frequently I had to dig out cracks between the rocks for both fingers and toes to hold on by. I dared not look around. I was unable to do anything but go on. At length I reached a lofty peak, and to my dismay beheld another beyond it, with a precipice between! For a moment I hung to the rock upon which I stood. I closed my eyes. I gradually opened them, with shaded hands. I gazed upon the awful depths below; then, glancing round, I saw one of Nature's grand and mighty scenes. Mountains upon mountains, with great breaks between, burst on my view. On one side, the lake, river, and valley below, with Davis's Straits in the distance; on the other, peak upon peak, to some five hundred, towering upward to the skies. Mount Cunningham, as the highest was called, was evidently inaccessible, and to attempt it would have been foolhardy. I therefore ended my journey here, erected a pile of stones, and then marking my name, began the descent.
"I found Adam Beck anxiously waiting me, and, in due course, together we reached the town, where I procured a boat and got safely on board, well tired, but satisfied with my journey."
Adam informed me that his children had no food, and though I had paid him well, and did for him all in my power, yet that could not help him much. The next day he, his wife, two children, and an infant at her back, went out in their rickety canoe to try and catch fish for "poor picaninnies."
The following is a fac-simile of Adam Beck's writing, when I asked him to put down his name and date of birth, which he did, adding the name of Sir John Ross.
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There is no C in the Greenland-Esquimaux alphabet, as already explained, and this accounts for its omission in the above.
On the 16th of July we endeavoured to return the many kindnesses shown us by the good people of Holsteinborg by inviting them to a ball. The lieutenant-governor and lady, the schoolmaster, and his wife, with their infant child at her back, and most all the town, were there. Never did the George Henry and her crew look happier, gayer, or present a more varied scene. With warm hearts, honest faces, and a ready mood for the fullest mirth of the hour, did we enter upon the festive day.
The vessel was decorated for the occasion, and it would amuse many friends and readers at home were I able to give at length all that occurred. In this merry dance the Esquimaux did their very best, and our bold sailor-boys showed themselves not a whit behind. Even Captain B, Mate Rogers, and—myself! had to join in the dizzy whirl. As for myself, I was positively forced into it. In a jocular yet impressive manner, one and all insisted upon my treading on "the light fantastic toe." My hands were placed in those of two Esquimaux ladies, when I was fairly dragged into the dance; and dance I did! Yes, I danced,—that is, I went through certain motions which in courtesy to me were called dancing; but what would the belles of my own country have
DANCE ON BOARD THE GEORGE HENRY.
said of it? I blush to think. However, it so happened that nobody was hurt, except a few of the Holsteinborg maidens, upon whose feet I had rather clumsily trod, and who afterward went away limping, with a remark, "That man may be a good dancer" (I never danced before in all my life), "but he's very heavy and far-reaching on his pedals!" As for the dancing, let me honestly confess that I felt the better for it. I am sure that many evils in my nature then found a way out at my feet.
After the ball on deck, we succeeded in getting up some singing below in the cabin. Among the Esquimaux, the schoolmaster—who is really a capital fellow—was the leader, and his singing was truly excellent. There was, however, this singularity in it—many of the songs were to church tunes! On our side, we had the national airs, "Hail Columbia," "Star-spangled Banner," &c. which were vociferously cheered. While the latter was sung, I raised the silk emblem of our beloved country that was given me by a dear one at home to erect over Franklin's grave. The schoolmaster, finding in "Ross's Second Voyage" some Esquimaux verses, first read and then sang them most admirably.
During the whole evening unbounded happiness reigned on board. Several presents were made, especially to the schoolmaster's wife, who received them with much modesty and pleasure. At length the party broke up, when our visitors departed for the shore in their numerous kyacks and family boats.
On the 18th of July occurred the sun's eclipse. The view in Holsteinborg Harbour was fine, though a part of the time it was obscured by clouds. The Esquimaux were generally out looking at it with pieces of glass dipped in water!
A singular fact in connexion with this, eclipse was told me by Mate Rogers. He said that "during it he and his party could catch no fish, though before and after it there was abundance obtained!"
In the afternoon it began to blow a gale, and at the time nearly all hands were away on some duty or other. Mate Rogers and men were catching cod in Davis's Straits, and only Captain B, myself, and the young seaman, John Brown, were on board. The vessel began to drag her anchor, and, though we contrived to drop another, yet we were within a stone's throw of the rocky coast before she again held on. The three of us worked for our lives. John Brown put forth the strength of a giant, and myself and the captain did the same. Meantime our crew on shore had hastened off in a boat, and the governor had, in the midst of the gale, kindly sent another boat, with his superintendent and men, to our assistance. These enabled us to make all secure on board; but our anxiety now was no longer for the ship, but for Mate Rogers and those with him out seaward in Davis's Straits. It seemed impossible that any small craft could survive in such a storm. Our chances had been doubtful, even in a good harbour; what, then, had we reason to expect for the fate of those in a boat ourside? We felt dismayed, and eagerly were our glances bent in the direction our poor comrades had taken in the morning. Every glass was in requisition to catch a sight of them, but only the mountain waves dashing against the rock-ribbed coast, and sending their spray full fifty feet in the air, met our view. At last Captain B, who was aloft, cried out, "There they come! there they come!" and, sure enough, we now saw them at a distance, struggling bravely, perseveringly, desperately, amid the roar and fierce turmoil of the wild sea threatening to ingulf them. Presently they emerge from the confused mass of waters, and we behold them more distinctly. Oh, how they seem to strain each nerve! How desperate their all but Herculean efforts to try and save themselves! One moment they appear to be lost; the next we notice them again struggling on as determinedly as ever. "Pull, pull, for dear life's sake, my good men!" was the involuntary cry of each on board; and right bravely did they pull. On they came, thrown about and driven about in the very maddest of revengeful sport that Ocean and Wild Storm could devise. At length they near the ship. A few strokes more—a well-directed movement of the steering-oar, and our beaten and exhausted comrades are alongside! Hurrah! thank God, we have them safe on board!
It appeared that the gale had overtaken them suddenly, and at first they attempted to land upon an island, but this the breakers would not admit. There was no alternative, therefore, but to make for the ship as best they could. In doing so, a heavy sea struck the boat, overwelming it and them. But now was the time for trial of the will and arm of man against winds and waves. Brave souls were in that boat, and Mate Rogers proved himself fully equal to the occasion. The boat was cleared, and stern, bold hearts defiantly pulled her onward to the ship, which they finally reached, utterly worn out by their fearful exertions. Now that they were safe, all their power was gone. A child could have overpowered the whole together. Wet, cold, and enfeebled—their case required immediate attention. Dry clothing, warm drinks, and stimulants were at once supplied; and thus, with careful treatment, they soon recovered.
At 10 p.m. the gale had died away to a calm, and we all retired to sleep, completely exhausted with our bodily and mental labours of the past few hours.
About this time I enjoyed a rare sight. One of the Esquimaux turned summersets in the water seated in his kyack!
ESQUIMAUX FEAT—A SUMMERSET.
Over and over he and his kyack went, till we cried "Enough!" and yet he wet only his hands and face! This is a feat performed only by a few. It requires great skill and strength to do it. One miss in the stroke of the oar as they pass from the centre (when their head and body are under water) to the surface might terminate fatally. No one will attempt this feat, however, unless a companion in his kyack is near. The next feat I witnessed was for an Esquimaux to run his kyack, while seated in it, over another. Getting some distance off, he strikes briskly and pushes forward. In an instant he is over, having struck the upturned peak of his own kyack nearly amidships, and at right angles, of the other. These feats were rewarded by a few plugs of tobacco.
The day after the gale we had a mishap on board that threatened to prove serious, and, as it was, it detained us some days longer in Holsteinborg. Our anchors fouled, and, in trying to get one of them, the windlass gear broke.
At this time our deck was crowded by the crews of both vessels, and Esquimaux men, women, and children, besides some dogs I had purchased for my future sledge travelling. These together presented a remarkably stirring picture, while the howling of the dogs, the sailors singing in chorus as they pulled on the ropes, with the varied voices of Americans, Esquimaux, French, Danish, and Dutch, made a confusion of tongues somewhat akin to Babel.
By noon all attempts to get the anchor, now the windlass was defective, proved vain. It was therefore decided to call upon the governor and ask him for his blacksmith to aid our Sterry in repairing the gear. Permission was instantly granted; but the injury done was of such a nature as to require days to make it good. The following day, however, we succeeded in hoisting up our faithful anchor, and it was then determined, as soon as the windlass was ready, to sail for the west or opposite side of Davis's Straits.
While pulling on the ropes side by side with Esquimaux, I was strongly reminded of the opinion many civilized persons have of their savage and cruel nature. Why, instead of that, they are glorious good fellows. As for eating a man up, they would sooner let a hungry man eat them out of all, without saying a word, unless it was, "Welcome, stranger! as long as I have, you shall share with me." This is just their nature. The time I was at Holsteinborg I saw much of the inhabitants, and my opinion as to their honesty, good-nature, good-will, and genuine hospitality is strong and unmixed. They possess these virtues to an eminent degree. The vices so prominent and prevalent in more civilized communities are all but unknown here. The test they were put to on board the George Henry was enough to satisfy any man that they are honest. Numbers of Esquimaux, of all ages and of both sexes, were almost constantly on board, yet not the slightest thing was missed by any of us. We never thought it necessary to "keep an eye" on this or that, though their desire for any of our trinkets was ever so great. Wherever we placed an article, there we found it.
Among other incidents well remembered of my stay at Holsteinborg, I must not forget the garden attached to Governor Elberg's house. He was very proud of this garden, though there was but little in it. One evening he took me there. The radishes and turnips looked flourishing, but they were diminutive in the extreme. Those I tasted were good. I relished them exceedingly, tops and all.
I have mentioned purchasing here some dogs for sledge-work. They were six in number, and the governor kindly gave me his experience in selecting the best animals. I bought the six for about ten Danish dollars, equivalent to five dollars American. As these dogs will be frequently alluded to in my narrative, I here append a list of their Greenland names: 1. Kingo; 2. Barbekark; 3. Ei—pronounced Ee; 4. Me-lak-tor—the leader; 5. Me-rok; 6. Me-lâk, or Ki-o-koo-lik, afterward called Flora.
For their food I purchased over two bushels of little dried fish ("capelins") for twenty-five cents.
At length the repairs of our windlass were complete, and on Tuesday, July 24th, a fair wind gave notice we were about to take our departure. Two pilots—Otto and Lars—came on board, and as some of our men had gone ashore, the colours were hoisted for their return. All was excitement. My letters for home had to be finished, and my last farewell uttered to kind friends.
As I wrote in the cabin below, there was at my side a beautiful bouquet of arctic flowers in great variety, sent me by several of the Holsteinborg young ladies; and I could not but feel, as I then expressed in my letter, astonished at the profuseness of Nature's productions in that part of the world.
Having finished my letters all but a few concluding lines, I was soon in a boat rowed by Esquimaux, and carried to the landing-place at the foot of a hill leading to the town.
As we neared the shore, all the inhabitants—including dogs and goats as well as Esquimaux and Danes—covered the place. On the beach were the George Henry's men just about to leave, having paid their farewell visit to the warm-hearted people. Hearty cheers from the boat as it pushed off signified most clearly that not in words alone, but from the very soul, was meant "Farewell, good friends; we thank you for your kindness, and will remember you for ever!" To this the Greenlanders responded by similar cheers, and I am sure with similar feelings. Indeed, the parting exhibited several scenes worthy of notice. Almost every evening during our stay in the harbour, our "boys" had been invited to dances with the Esquimaux. Acquaintance ripened as interviews increased. Friendships became firmly established, and, in some cases, love finally ruled supreme. On this parting I saw more than one pair of eyes moistened. I say it to no one's discredit. Many eyes of our people also were darkened as the gloom of separation came upon them. I hastened up to the governor's house with my letters. He and his deputy met me, and I was heartily pressed to enter. Every one knew of our early departure, and numerous boats full of Esquimaux were seen hastening to the vessel. But my own feelings at the time will be better expressed by the following extract from my private journal.
"Seated in the office-room, I added a few words to my correspondence home—to my dear ones, and to my noble friend, Henry Grinnell. I then sealed up my letters and gave them to the governor, who kindly offered himself to carry the packet to Godhaab, which place he soon intended to visit, and from whence a government vessel was to sail for Copenhagen in September. I was then invited down into the room where I had spent many pleasant hours with Governor Elberg. There I found awaiting the three parting glasses—one for me, one for the governor, and one for the lieutenan-tgovernor. Each had some good saying to utter. Blessings must and will follow to us all if kindly prayers can avail. With all my heart I thanked the governor for his great and increasing kindness to me while within his harbour; ay, more, I thanked him for his hospitality, which was overwhelming.
"My time was short. The lieutenant-governor took me to his domicile. Then I hastened to the priest's, to bid Mrs. Kjer and Miss Bülou farewell. I then found the governor had ordered his boat to take me on board, he and the lieutenant-governor intending to accompany me. The ladies walked down to the landing with us, where I expressed a hope to have the pleasure of again seeing them after three or four years' time in the United States. I especially promised that the lady who sometimes here is 'blue with cold' should never be so while there. A warm—a last shake of the hand, and I bid them an affectionate adieu. I was then carried away, amid the sorrowing hearts of many. * * *
"On the 7th day of this month I rejoiced when I first put my foot where I was now bidding farewell in tears. Then I rejoiced that God had brought me in safety, that I might put my foot upon arctic ground. Not a soul did I know in the whole North. In seventeen days I was acquainted with all Holsteinborg. I now leave it with regret. I sorrow at parting from so noble a people! * * * *
"Kyacks in large numbers danced around us as we made our way to the ship. I remarked to the governor that with all the progress in ship and boat building of civilization, we had nothing in way of rowing with which we could equal the speed of a kyack. This is so. One Esquimaux with his kyack can outstrip any man or men among our people—or any other of the enlightened world—in rowing our boats.
"When we got on board they were heaving up the anchor, and had nearly succeeded in getting under way, when, to the general consternation, our windlass broke again in a second place. Here was a dilemma. What to do was for a moment doubtful. To delay longer would be almost giving up the voyage; to go to sea thus would be unwise. One remedy alone was open to us. Sterry declared he could manage it if we had the screw-plate and certain gear in the blacksmith's shop that had been used in the repairs before. It was left to me to broach the subject to the governor, and after a consultation with him he generously granted what was desired. A boat was sent off for the articles, and upon its return sail was made on the ships. A last leave-taking in the cabin took place, and finally the governor, his officials, and all the good people of Holsteinborg left us under repeated cheers. A few minutes later, and Otto and Lars, the two noble pilots, also departed, and we were once more alone to ourselves, the Rescue following us.
"After our friends had gone I watched with long and eager gaze the receding mountains, especially the one I had ascended on July 14th. It was midnight, and the northern sky flooded in crimson light—the east and the west tinged with mellower hue—the long ridge of mountains, reaching far south, and far north sharply cutting their contour upon the sky, formed a glorious picture to the eye! The mountains looked black as Erebus in contrast with the red and glowing clouds that were behind, so that only a profile could be taken of them. As they faded in the distance, so was shut out the very spot where Holsteinborg lay; but not so was effaced the memory of it and its generous inhabitants while life exists within me!"