Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter XIII
CHAPTER XIII.
Irksome Change from a Snow House to the Ship's Cabin—Native Village on the Ice—Scurvy an Board—Best Cure for it—A Reindeer Hunt—Dogs in Chase—A Venison Feast for the Ship's Crew—Some of the sick Crew sent to live with the Natives—The Innuit King-wat-che-ung—His Kindness to White Men—One of the Sailors missing—The missing Man's Tracks; his erratic Movements; he gets confused and goes Seaward; has a Rest in the Snow; moves on again, and proceeds Miles from the Ship; his Scramble round an Iceberg—Author and his Companion exhausted—Temptation to lie down and sleep—Sledge arrives from the Ship—Search continued—Tracks lead to the Shore—Signs of a fearful Struggle—Discovery of the Body, frozen stiff—Ground too hard to dig a Grave—Cover the Corpse with Ice and Snow—Return to the Ship.
My first night (February 21st, 1861) on board the George Henry, after forty-three days away in an igloo, was a sleepless one; not from any want of comfort, but in consequence of the superabundance of it. From the pure atmosphere of a snow house to the warm, confined air of a small cabin, the change is great, and I felt it extremely while undergoing the resulting "sweating" process.
The next morning I visited the crew to see how the men were, and was sorry to find one or two cases of scurvy among them. The legs of one man, from his knees down to his feet, were almost as black as coal tar. In reply to a question put to me, I said that forty-three days in an igloo among Innuits was, in my opinion, the best cure for them. I then went on shore with Captain B.
My dogs were all well, and right glad to see me. The wreck of the Rescue still existed, though much of its materials had been used for fuel and other useful purposes.
I found, astern of the George Henry, several igloos built upon the ice, though but few of the natives remained here. Nearly all the inhabitants of both villages had gone away to Frobisher Bay, where they hoped more success would attend their exertions to procure food. Indeed, I understood that not less than a hundred Innuits were located in one place, and doing well.
On the 24th of February Ebierbing returned to Cornelius Grinnell Bay, carrying with him many presents and articles of provisions for himself and wife, given by Captain B and myself. Ugarng also went away well loaded; and Koodloo and his family, Sharkey, with some of our dogs, and one or two other persons, likewise departed for the same place. Sharkey was to come back soon with the dogs, which were only loaned to him for the occasion. Koojesse, Johnny Bull, Kokerzhun, and all the natives that were about the ship on my arrival, or who came over soon afterward from Frobisher Bay, evinced their joy at my return in a way that much pleased me, and showed that I had a hold of no slight nature upon their affections.
Thus two or three days passed away while preparations were being made by the ship's company for their spring whaling, and by myself for another excursion, previous to making an effort toward proceeding on the main object of my voyage.
While thus occupied, an incident occurred that, when related, as here, from notes taken at the time and from facts well-attested, may perhaps, by some of my readers, be deemed almost incredible. But precisely as it took place, just so I narrate it.
About 9 a.m. of March 4th, the Innuit Charley, then on deck, reported reindeer in sight upon the ice. This immediately caused much excitement, and, from captain to cabin-boy, the cry ran through the ship, "Tuktoo! Tuktoo!" Of course we were now all but certain we should get a taste of north country venison, for there were numbers of us to give chase and insure a capture. Guns were charged, and a whole party were going off to the hunt, when it occurred to the more knowing ones that it would be wise to let Koojesse, who offered himself, proceed alone, taking with him only the rifle which I put in his hands. The wind, which was blowing from the north, placed the herd on the windward side of him, thus making his chance more favourable on account of the deer being unable so readily to "scent" the foe.
As Koojesse cautiously proceeded, we all watched him most eagerly. Fifteen minutes saw him "breasted" by a small island toward which the deer approached. When they were within rifle shot he fired, but evidently missed, for the game wheeled round and darted away.
Directly the report was heard, Barbekark, my Greenland dog, bounded off toward the battle-ground, followed by all the other dogs. This was annoying, as it threatened to put an end to any more firing at the game; and if they would have heeded us, we should have instantly recalled them. But it was now useless. The dogs were in full chase, and fears were entertained that if they got too far away, some, if not all of them, would be lost. At length we saw Barbekark pursuing—not in the deer tracks, circuitous, flexuous, mazy in course, but—in a direct line, thus evincing a sagacity most remarkable. The other dogs, not taking the same course, soon fell behind.
On and on went Barbekark, straight for a spot which brought him close upon the deer. The latter immediately changed their course, and so did Barbekark, hot in pursuit after them. Thus it continued for nearly two hours; first this way, then that; now in a circle, then zigzag; now direct, then at right angles, among the numerous islands at the head of the bay.
For awhile nothing more was thought of the affair, save an expression of regret that the dogs would not be able to find their way home, so far had they been led by the enticing game.
A little before twelve, midday, Barbekark was seen coming back, and presently he came on board, with blood around his mouth and over his body. No importance was attached to this beyond supposing that he had come into collision with the deer; but as for killing one, the thought was not entertained for a moment. Those who had often wintered in the arctic regions said they had never known a dog to be of any use in hunting down deer, and therefore we concluded that our game was gone. But there was something in the conduct of Barbekark that induced a few of the men to think it possible he had been successful. He was fidgety, and restlessly bent upon drawing attention to the quarter where he had been chasing.
He kept whining, and going first to one and then another, as if asking them to do something he wanted. The captain even noticed him jumping about, and playing unusual pranks; running toward the gangway steps, then back again. This he did several times, but still no one gave him more than a passing notice. He went to Keeney and tried to enlist his attention, which at last he did so far as to make him come down to me (I was writing in my cabin at the time) and mention it; but I gave no heed, being so much occupied with my work. Perhaps had Barbekark found me, I should have comprehended his actions. As it was, he failed to convey his meaning to anybody. Presently one of the men, called "Spikes," went off to the wreck of the Rescue, and Barbekark immediately followed; but, seeing that Spikes went no farther, the dog bounded off to the northwest, and then Spikes concluded that it was really possible Barbekark had killed the deer. Accordingly, he returned on board, and a party of the ship's crew started to see about it, though the weather was very cold and inclement. They were away two hours; and when they came back, we could observe that each was carrying something like a heavy bundle on his head. Still we could not believe it possible that it was portions of the deer; and only when they came so near that the strange fact was perceptible could we credit our senses. One man, almost Hercules like, had the skin wrapped around him, another had half of the saddle, a third the other half, and the rest each some portion of the deer that we all had especially noticed. In a short time they were on board, and deposited their loads triumphantly on the scuttle-door leading to the cooking department below.
Every officer and man of the ship, all the Innuits and Innuit dogs, then congregated around the tempting pile of delicious fresh meat, the trophy, as it really proved, of my fine Greenland dog Barbekark. The universal astonishment was so great that hardly a man of us knew what to say. At length we heard the facts as follows:—
Our men had followed Barbekark's return tracks for about a mile from the vessel, in a direct line northward; thence
BARBEKARK KILLING THE REINDEER.
westward some two miles farther to an island, where, to their surprise, they found Barbekark and the other Greenland dogs seated upon their haunches around the deer lying dead before them.
On examination, its throat was shown to be cut with Barbekark's teeth as effectually as if any white man or Innuit had done it with a knife. The windpipe and jugular vein had both been severed; more, a piece of each, with a part of the tongue, the skin and flesh covering the same, had actually been bitten out. The moment "Sam," one of the men in advance of the rest, approached, Barbekark jumped from his watchful position close by the head of his victim and ran to meet him, with manifestations of delight, wagging his tail and swinging his head about. At the same time he looked up into Sam's eyes as if saying, "I've done the best I could; I've killed the deer, eaten just one luscious mouthful, and lapped up some of the blood. I now give up what you see, merely asking for myself and these my companions, who have been faithfully guarding the prize, such portions as yourselves may disdain!"
The snow around the spot showed that a terrible fight had taken place before the deer gave up its life. Somehow during the struggle one of the deer's hind legs had got broken; and when our men arrived at the spot, several crows were there picking away at the carcass. But Barbekark and the crow family were always on good terms, and probably this was the reason why he did not drive them away, for sometimes they rested upon his back.
As soon as our men had reached the dead deer and found it ready for them, they skinned it, and then cut it in pieces for carrying on board. They regretted that no harnesses were at hand, so that they might have had the dogs—Barbekark at the head as conqueror—drag the whole carcass to the ship. As soon as the prize was on board, it was fairly distributed among the ship's company fore and aft, and my brave dog was greeted with many a word of praise for his remarkable hunting feat!
In afterward dressing the deerskin, it was seen that the ball from my rifle, fired by Koojesse, had really taken effect. It was found in a piece of the flesh still adhering to the skin, at that part which covered the hip. The ball had gone through the skin, and was flattened by striking the bone. I have that ball, and keep it as a memento of this remarkable affair.
In referring to this incident a day or two afterward, Captain B said to the men, "Boys, who at home, think you, will believe that affair of Barbekark's and the deer-hunt, with what followed?" The general reply was, "Not one in a thousand will believe it." "In fact," added the captain, "I can hardly believe it even now, though it was so." And thus may many others say; yet the facts are precisely as I have related them, and they are evidence of the keen sagacity and almost human intelligence, allied to great bravery, of my faithful Greenland dog Barbekark.
On the 5th of March Sharkey returned from Cornelius Grinnell Bay. He was accompanied by one of the angeko's wives, and brought us information of all my Innuit friends, and also of Nikujar's death, which occurred about two or three days after I had left.
I have before mentioned that this woman, Nikujar, was the family wife No. 1 of Ugarng, and had formerly been the wife of Blind George. Indeed, until he became blind, she was to him a happy and loving partner, giving him the one child, Kookooyer, he now so much doted upon; but when the curtains of an endless night were drawn over him, he lost her. She consented to become the wife of Ugarng, leaving the noble-hearted but now blind "eagle" to be alone.
By Ugarng, Nikujar had another child, Me-noun, but she was always wishing to have her first one, Kookooyer, with her. Thus it was that I so often saw the girl in Ugarng's home, instead of with her own father. Nikujar, however, did not get on quite so well as she had expected. Ugarng's second wife, Kunniu, seemed to be his favourite, probably on account of her being so serviceable to him in hunting and sealing; and Nikujar had frequently to remain by herself, or with wife No. 3, to take care of their home. Disease also laid hold of her. She was sick when I first saw her, and consumption had sown the seeds of death in her frame. Gradually she wasted away, and during my sojourn at the igloo village it was evident to me she could not long survive. It was therefore no surprise when I heard of her decease. To Blind George, however, who was on board when the news arrived, the intelligence was a heavy blow. Notwithstanding her faithlessness, he had always retained his original love for the mother of their dear child; and when he heard she was no more, he went and hid himself, that he might mourn without restraint. When I sought him out, I found he was giving way to almost uncontrollable grief, his eyes streaming with tears, and his lamentations loud and painful to hear. I tried to comfort him, and by soothing words direct his thoughts upward, where the best consolation is ever found.
At this time a very serious event occurred, the narrative of which I here transcribe from my diary:—
"Sunday, March 17th, 1861, 11 o'clock, night.
"A man lost! The man found—dead!! frozen to death!!!
"I am too fatigued, my mind too overwhelmed with the dreadful incidents of the day, to make record of what belongs to this day's journal. I leave all for the morrow, after having said,
"Peace to the soul of John Brown, one of the men of the George Henry!"
"Monday, March 18th, 1861.
"I now resume the painful record of the subject fore-shadowed in the few words of my last night's penning.
"Turning back to the record of last Tuesday (I refer to my MS. journal book), it will be seen that two of the George Henry's men, John Brown (who now sleeps in death) and James Bruce, both afflicted with scurvy, were sent to Oopungnewing, in Frobisher Bay, distant by sledge-route seventeen nautical miles, for the purpose of having them stay with the Innuits for awhile, living exclusively on fresh meat, walrus and seal. They accompanied, as there stated, the Innuit 'Bob' (King-wat-che-ung), with whom Captain B made distinct arrangements to care for them, providing for all their necessities. This Innuit Bob has a noble soul, one that prompts him to noble deeds, continually outpouring in behalf of the poor, the friendless, the unfortunate, and the sick. He is the one to whom Captain B feels himself indebted for saving his life in the disastrous winter here of 1855-6, when he (Captain B) lost thirteen of the crew of his vessel—the Georgiana—by scurvy.
"On Friday last, March 15th, by the journal (my MS. journal), it will also be seen that Koojesse and Charley (Koo-per-ne-ung), went over to the Innuit settlements at Frobisher Bay with the dogs and sledge, for the object of trafficking for walrus tusks and meat. It was expected that they would return by the evening of the same day, but the inclement weather that succeeded their starting out, the gale of the night and next day, prevented their return till twelve meridian of Saturday, at which hour they started.
"John Brown and James Bruce feeling so much relieved of their complaint, they prepared themselves to return with Koojesse and Charley. While the load of walrus skins, walrus meat, &c. was being lashed to the sledge by the two Innuits, Brown and Bruce started on together. They had not proceeded more than half a mile when Bruce proposed that they should return, delaying their journey to another day, as the wind was blowing strong and cold; the indications of the weather being otherwise unpropitious. To this proposal Brown objected. Bruce declared they would be frozen before they could reach the vessel, and this being his honest conviction, he not only decided to go back to the igloo they had just left, but strenuously exerted himself to induce Brown to do likewise. The last words of this unfortunate young man to his companion (Bruce) were, 'I'm going on; for, by G— , I'm determined to have my duff and apple-sauce[1] at to-morrow's dinner.'
"Bruce returned to Bob's igloo, taking from the sledge his sleeping blankets. Brown finally retraced his steps until he met the sledge party, which he joined, continuing his journey homeward to the vessel. The sledge was heavily loaded, so that their progress was very slow. Having proceeded some seven miles, hummocky ice obliged Charley and Koojesse to leave the greater part of the load. To unload and make a deposit under piles of ice was a work of time. Brown was anxious to proceed without the delay requisite to make the cache. He made known his determination to proceed alone. The two Innuits, who foresaw the dangers to which Brown was about to expose himself, advised that he should wait for them. All that these experienced, storm and cold proof men of the North could say in warning him, did not suffice to cool the ardent desire of Brown to join as early as possible his cheer companions at the George Henry.
"Seeing that Brown was about to take his departure, Koojesse and Charley persuaded him to take along one of the dogs, that it might guide him in the direct route to the ship. Koojesse disengaging the single trace from the peto,[2] the same was passed to Brown's hand. Thus he had a guide, a leader in harness, whose instinct was truer than that of any man, with all his boasted intelligence. But this dog Brown exchanged for a younger one unused to the route. With heart bounding with hopeful throbbings that he would soon be among his home companions—that he would soon be participating in the longed-for food of civilization (for which he had acquired a hundred-fold stronger desire than he ever had before, in the course of his brief stay among the Innuits, whose almost sole living is fresh animal food), Brown started on, travelling with vigorous step the rough ice-road before him. Long before the safe ice-covering had been made over the meat deposit, Brown was out of sight of Koojesse and Charley.
"A few minutes after twelve o'clock that night (Saturday) I retired. A little later, I heard first the cry of the dogs; then the loud, peculiar, and unmistakable voice of the Innuit dog-driver; and then the musical sledge, whose glassy bone-shoeing rung to the music of the snows.
"Previous to my turning in, all hands had retired. No one was up to learn the news from Frobisher Bay settlements.
"The sledge was driven up alongside of the George Henry; the dogs were quickly unharnessed; the small portion of the original load was placed on deck, out of reach of the dogs, Charley departing for his igloo near the stern of the vessel; while Koojesse (whose winter quarters are with us) hastened in, divesting himself of his dress, and placing himself alongside of his warm sleeping nuliana, Tu-nuk-der-lien, who had retired hours before I did to the usual place of their tuktoo bed, close beside the door of my sleeping apartment. A few moments found the weary Innuit, my friend Koojesse, in the arms of sleep. The sleep of a tired Innuit is usually accompanied with loud nasal sounds.
"My lateness in retiring on Saturday night, my unquiet sleep, made me a later riser on the following glorious day of days—the Sabbath.
"Breakfast hour with us is eight o'clock. I was up and dressed only half an hour in advance. What was the first news that awaited me? That one of my 'Greenlanders' had been outrageously mutilated by some Innuit, who had cut clean off the animal's left ear. 'King-ok,' a fine dog, was the subject of this wicked act. King-ok's offence was biting harnesses. As I have said before in my journal, let a dog offend an Innuit, and woe be to the dog! Any instrument at hand is used in administering punishment. In this case a snow-knife was seized, and my noble dog King-ok became the terrible sufferer of an ungoverned passion.
"I had allowed my six dogs, in order to complete the team of twelve, to be used in making this Frobisher Bay trip for the advancement of the George Henry's interests. Captain B burned with laudable indignation on learning the sad condition of my dog. What astounded me, and every one of the ship's company, was the discovery of the fact that Koojesse was the Innuit who committed this brutal deed. His only excuse was that his companion Charley had first severed the ear of his dog, and he (Koojesse) thought he must do the same to my dog.
"But what of this—cruel and savage though these two acts were—compared with the terrible story I am yet to relate? Yesterday morning, after breakfast, I went upon deck, and there met Ad Bailey, who said to me, standing by the gangway, 'Charley has just told me that the Frenchman, John Brown, started from the igloos of Frobisher Bay with them (Koojesse and Charley); that he, Brown, finally left them, and came on ahead; that they saw nothing more of Brown; but, as they passed from the land on to the ice of Field Bay, this side, saw his tracks, and wished to know of Bailey what time Brown arrived at the vessel.'
"Bailey had just ascertained from the hands forward, where Brown belonged, that he had not arrived! At once, under a painful apprehension of the real state of the case, I rushed down into the cabin, made my way to the captain's room, where I found him preparing for his usual deck-walk, and announced to him the facts I had just learned, telling him of my immediate readiness to go in search of him who I knew must be lost, suffering, or—as I feared from the cold of the night (57° below the freezing point)—a dead man. Captain B instantly went forward, and learned that what I had told him was too true—that Brown had not arrived. Only a bundle of blankets and fresh walrus-meat was there, just brought in by Charley, the same having been placed on the sledge by Brown on the point of starting home. Captain B ordered Brown's ship companions to go in immediate search. This was responded to cheerfully, of course. Captain B returned to the aft cabin, and told me that parties were getting ready to move. As fast as I could, I made the exchange of civilization dress for my Innuit costume. With my marine glass and compass in hand, I made my way on deck. A company of ten men met me there, prepared for the dangerous work before us. The thought occurred to me that we should take along with us one of the Innuits of the sledge party which came in on Saturday night, either Koojesse or Charley. Seeing the former on deck, I asked him to accompany us. He quickly joined in. Our first work was to go to the spot where the tracks of poor Brown were seen as reported.
"We set out at 8.20 a.m., taking a true W.N.W. course. Our movements were rapid, impelled by the feeling that incited all hearts with the hope we might be in time to save human life. It was only occasionally that we walked—we ran! I felt, Oh that we had wings, and could determine these anxious fears and doubts in a few moments, instead of waiting the hours that it will require to settle them! Koojesse and Sam, both great travellers, were for pressing on with all their immediate strength. I knew this would not do; that by this course they would not only sacrifice their own important services for a long search, which evidently it would be, but also those of all the other men. I therefore repeatedly cautioned them to do only as they and all of us could also do and hold out. But neither reason nor a prudent foresight of the prolonged hours which would be required in this painful service could stay them. One after another of our company fell back. Ere we came within two miles of the tracks, even Koojesse gave out. He was obliged to move with slow steps from his over-exertion. The sequel will show the wisdom of my advice, which was finally acknowledged by all, even Sam. I may as well state here that, after proceeding three miles from the vessel, I saw, away in the distance, objects that appeared moving. I called attention to them. Then I first learned that a party of five had preceded us in this search. Though they had fifteen minutes' start of us, we were soon up with them.
"When we came within a quarter of a mile of the land, the tracks of poor Brown were found by Koojesse, who had seen the same but a few hours before. The distance made from the ship was full six geographic or sea miles in one hour and forty-two minutes, the party arriving at the tracks at 10·10 a.m. Only four out of the ten accomplished this, myself of the number that did. I could not be in the rear, injudicious as I knew to be the over-exertion that we were making.
"Soon as we struck upon the almost obliterated footprints of the lost one, our movements were even quickened. Yet the tracks led, for more than a mile, in a direct course to the vessel, and but a few steps southward of our way up. I have written, a few lines preceding this, the words, 'the almost obliterated footprints of the lost one.' By reference to my journal (MS. journal) of last night, I see that I there noted the following phenomenon, viz., 'Showers of snow while the heavens are clear. Stars shining brightly.' At midnight, the time of my last visit to the deck, I wrote this, though a previous record had been made of the same phenomenon taking place as early as 9 p.m.
"Twelve, midnight, stars shining; all clear over the whole expanse, yet snowing! Thermometer — 12°.'
"This accounted for the filling up of the tracks. Besides, the light wind of this morning had swept the beautiful fine snow-crystals into them.
"We followed on hopefully, some of our number even saying, 'It may be we shall find John has arrived at the vessel ahead of us.' Oh that it had proved so!
"The course of Brown was so near ours outward that those who had fallen behind had but to turn a little southward to reach it. Hence those who were last became first in the search. The upper part of Field Bay is studded with islets. To one of these his footprints were directed. At length they turned around its southwestern side, where he met with hummocks that obstructed his course. Still farther south he bent his steps to get around them. Each of these turns had a tendency to throw him out of the true course to the ship, which at first he evidently had in mind.
"One of the men, finding a place among the ice to which Brown had turned in, actually exclaimed, 'Here he is!' But his outward steps were soon traced, so that this gleam was soon overshadowed.
"Getting out again in full view of the bay. Brown nearly regained his original course. Following this awhile, he again deviates. Now our hearts are cheered again, for he takes a proper course; another minute and we are sad—he diverges. After having taken a wrong course, which overwhelmed all with sorrow as we followed it for seven minutes, he suddenly turned northerly toward a magnificently-pinnacled iceberg that is ice-locked away up the bay. This we thought he had recognized, and that, on reaching it, he would then know where he should direct his steps. But, alas! too soon he turns in another—a wrong direction.
"His tracks by eleven o'clock a.m. showed that he was lost. Up to this hour it was evident to us that John had in mind nearly the proper direction in which the harbour of the vessel lay. It is true that now and then his tracks led in a direction that indicated doubt, but mainly otherwise. When John Brown first made Field Bay, passing from the land over which he had just come from Frobisher Bay, it must have been nine o'clock last night. He could have been but a little in advance of the sledge party he had left in Frobisher Bay. Hence it was not by daylight that he was struggling to reach the vessel; for, not being used to travelling alone, nor familiar with the route, and it being by night he was travelling, no wonder at his deviations, as indicated to us up to the hour I have named, to wit, eleven o'clock a.m. But at this hour I exclaimed, 'See! see! he who made those tracks was lost.' They were tortuous, zigzag, circular, this way and that—every way but the right way.
"At length John took a course S.S.W. leading him obliquely to the opposite side of the bay from where the vessel lay. How our hearts ached at this. Making, finally, a large circular sweep—having perhaps seen the dark, black, buttress-like mountains before him, which he must have known were not on the side of the bay he wished to make—he then took a S.S.E. course, which was the proper one, had he not been making the southing which he had. But this he did not long follow. Another and another bend in his steps, all leading him out of the way.
"I here state that, in following the tortuous tracks leading southwesterly, Sam Wilson and Morgan continued a direct course southeast. Soon the alarm was raised that Sam and Morgan had sighted the object of our search. We looked in that direction, and concluded they had, for they were under a full run. A piece of dark-coloured ice, raised up from the main, had, however, deceived them.
"On, on we followed the steps of the lost for miles, leading generally southeast.
"Some distance ahead of me and William Johnston were Morgan, Sam Wilson, and 'Fluker.' I felt that I was acting the judicious part, and therefore kept up a rapid walk—a gait that I could sustain for hours. Occasionally I cast my eyes back. Groups were still following after, some of them far behind. At 12 o'clock, I was pained to see that all in our rear had become exhausted, and were directing their steps toward the vessel. Out of twenty men in all who left the ship, but five of us now continued the search.
"I must confess that the race of the morning had seriously exhausted my strength. Nothing but the hope of saving human life could have induced me to take another step at twelve. By occasional rests, myself and my companion were reinvigorated. By this prudence, and that of avoiding farther over-exertion in running, we found that we were fast gaining upon the three ahead of us.
"Thirst—burning thirst continually harassed me. Seeing an iceberg at our right, we turned to it. Seating ourselves by it, with our knives we chipped off piece after piece, with which our thirst was partially allayed. The first piece which I put into my mouth froze it fast. Tongue, palate, and lips refused further service until the ice became of freezing water temperature. The cause of this of course was that the ice contained a degree of coldness even far lower than the temperature of the air then around us. The air at twelve and one o'clock was only 42° below freezing point, while the berg was 60°—that is, 28° below zero. I took the precaution of holding succeeding pieces in my mittened hand until I raised their temperature to near freezing point, when I could with perfect safety introduce them to my parched tongue.
"By-the-bye, I found one serious obstacle to my stopping to rest. Cramps of a most excruciating character in the calves of my legs threatened to overpower me. After 1 o'clock p.m. I suffered less from them. This grievous affliction arose, undoubtedly, from the over-exertion upon our setting out.
"At 1 o'clock p.m. I and William Johnston saw the three ahead of us (Morgan, Sam, and Fluker) throw themselves flat on the ice. By this we knew they had become exhausted. Fifteen minutes later found us with them, and flat beside them. Oh, how glad I was to make my bed for awhile upon this bosom of the deep! how refreshed we all were by that prostration of our weary limbs! While we were resting, Sam exclaimed, 'Well, come, let us eat dinner;' these words being accompanied by the act of drawing out of his pocket two sea-biscuits. One of the other men drew out another. These three cakes of bread made us a feast, though weighing but three quarters of a pound total. The foresight that could make this provision should have kept in reserve the strength which the exigencies of our undertaking required.
"We were all invigorated by the repast, and by resting, though only for the space of fifteen minutes.
"At 1.30 p.m. we resumed our march. We were now on dangerous ice, near the mouth of Field Bay, the tracks of the lost one still leading us seaward. A heavy sea might take us beyond our power to return. Every one felt that if Brown continued the course in which we were then following him, he must have arrived at a point where he had been carried out to sea on some floe.
"Most of our little company felt that they could not go farther, so exhausted were they. Sam Wilson was the first of the five to declare he would not; he said he could not go farther, although he was one of the forward ones of the morning. Yet he did continue on with us until ten minutes past two p.m. They felt they had tried to perform their duty. This was a terrible blow to me. I felt that I could not give it up so, discouraging as was my condition. I resolved, that, so long as God should spare me strength, I would follow on and on; and knowing the risk, I did not feel that I could take the responsibility of persuading any one to accompany me. Up to this time the course of the tracks was tortuous— now sweeping almost in circles, now to southeast, now to the south, but mainly leading to the open sea, far to the east. I regretted much that some one of us had not thought to bring a snow-knife. With this simple instrument in hand, I would have taken the responsibility of inducing some one to continue on with me. With this we could have erected an igloo for the night, or any other time, if we should be overtaken by a gale or storm before our return. Fifteen minutes after two p.m. I left my companions, who had resolved to return, and proceeded on alone. I knew God would be with me in my work. I had not proceeded far before I was overtaken by William Johnston, who said, 'I have resolved that I will accompany you rather than return now. I do not feel that I have more than strength enough left than would enable me to return to the vessel; but I may feel better soon. John was my shipmate, and I loved him. I shall ever regret, perhaps, if I return now.'
"As we passed on together, we were soon encouraged by finding the tracks bending away from the direction of Davis's Straits. Our feelings of hope were soon increased almost to those of joy, for we found the main course of the tracks now led west, as if John had seen the mountains westward, and to them was attempting to make his way, and then follow them up to the point where he left the land. But how soon was this cup dashed from our hopeful lips! The steps of the lost soon circle around to the southeast, then east, carrying us back again. For fifteen minutes we followed a true course west. Hope lifted us up again, and quickened our steps. At last they turned, circling to the south; thence around all the points of the compass, crossing, for the first time, his own tracks. This occurred one hour after parting company with our men, whom we had left to return. Having followed his footprints around this circle of twenty rods radius, in less than three minutes another circle occurs. He now strikes due north. With bounding, almost happy hearts, we follow, for this course leads almost directly to the vessel. The channel of water leading to Bear Sound of Frobisher was only ten miles due south of us. This place, though of historical and geographical interest to me, was as naught in the work I was now performing.
"But how oft is man doomed to disappointment! The tracks turn again in a circle. Now they come in rapid succession. Round and round the bewildered, terror-stricken, and almost frozen one makes his way. Five circles, one interlocking another, does the lost man make; then strikes out, and continues two more—in all, twelve circles did John make within less than two miles.
"During our protracted search, I and my companion often threw ourselves flat upon the hard snow that covered the sea-ice. This gave us rest. At one of these resting-places I fell instantly into a sound sleep. Had I been alone, I know not what would have been the result; but Johnston roused me after considerable exertion, and we pressed on. Every now and then we came to places where the lost one had seated himself to rest. In all, we found eight such places. Just before the company parted, we came to a spot where John had made a hole down into the snow, evidently with the desire to get some of the most compact with which to quench his thirst. During this whole search we made frequent calls on 'John' by loud shouting.
"At four o'clock, while following the tracks, which were then tending northward, I thought I heard the cry of dogs. I threw back my hood, which is attached to the jacket in the Innuit way, and listened. I asked Johnston if he had heard anything. He answered nay; adding, he thought it only my imagination. I saw that my companion was getting exhausted. Here we were far from the vessel, the sun sinking lower and lower, and the cold increasing.
"Somehow I felt that, upon the return of the three who left us a little after two o'clock, the captain would send out a native with kummitie (sledge) and dogs, suitably provided to co-operate with me in keeping up the search. I regretted, indeed, that I had not sent word by Morgan for the captain to do this. It would be an easy matter to find us, as the tracks of the three would lead to ours, whence we could be traced.
"Fifteen minutes after 4 p.m. the tracks of John turned south. Johnston had said he would continue with me till we should reach the coast on the west side of Field Bay, if John's track should continue there. Now they turned from the vessel south. Here, for the first time, I solicited him to go with me as far as a point of land toward which we were headed. He acquiesced. Passing two miles south, a magnificent mountain of ice—an iceberg—stood a little way to the left. As we came in line with it—the berg bearing east—we found the footprints of John Brown squarely turned toward it. At any other time, how I should have enjoyed the sight before me—a pile of alabaster, pinnacled as no human mind could design or human art execute—here and there a covering of cream colour, the side facing the descending sun reflecting dazzling prismatic colours. To this, in the darkness of night, John had directed his steps. As we arrived at its base, we found that this berg was evidently grounded, the ice between it and the sea-ice being in fragments, from the rise and fall of the tides. We feared we might find that poor John had lost his life about this berg, for his tracks showed that he had ventured where no man by daylight would dare to put his foot. One place gave palpable evidence where he had followed around to the south side and there fallen in. But from this he had extricated himself, and continued around to the east side, where he again ventured. From appearances, I thought John in search of some place where he could be protected from the wind and cold, where he could sleep. He passed across the dangerous broken ice floating amid sea water on to a tongue of the berg. He walked along a little cove that was roofed by overhanging ice; he finds no safe place there. But where are his outward steps? For a while we thought it certain that John was either in some of the recesses of this vast berg, or had made a false step, and gone down into the deep. Passing northerly, I finally descried returning tracks. He had made a fearful, desperate leap from a shelving alcove to the main or sea-ice, and thence, after passing a few rods east, he turned again to his course south, which he had pursued before turning to the berg.
"It was now half-past 4 p.m. On we continued, though the steps of my companion were growing moderate. Down again we threw ourselves flat upon the ice. While we were thus resting listlessly, Johnston cried out, 'Hark! I do hear the dogs.' No sooner had he spoken this than the driver's cry came to our ears. We jumped up—looked away to the northeast. Thank God! Captain Budington has sent us help. New life was ours. Kummitie and dogs, and two co-helpers, are fast approaching. I cannot express the thankful joyfulness of heart I felt, even in the still doubtful issue of our search. Still on and on, to the south, we followed John's tracks. As I knew Johnston would soon be overtaken, I quickened my steps, and soon left him far behind. I turned a few minutes after, and who hailed me? My noble friend the captain himself. Now I felt sure we should not return till the fate of the lost man should be determined. Captain B bid me make my way to the sledge, for he knew I must be very much fatigued. He required the Innuit Charley, the dog-driver, to take my place in tracking. It was a relief to me and Johnston that we received this assistance just as we did.
"Captain B had set out a little past two, immediately on seeing the return of the major part of the company of five. He had visited Look-out Island, and with his 'spy' had watched our movements. He directed his course to the returning party; followed their tracks, on meeting them, to the place where we parted, thence followed ours—which, of course, were the circuitous, serpentine, and angular one of the lost—until, with his sharp eyes, he sighted us, when he struck a direct course. When Captain B overtook me it wanted five minutes to 5 o'clock. A few moments brought us to a recess in the coast near the point which, according to Johnston's promise, was to terminate his farther search with me.
"John's tracks showed that he had endeavoured to make land. I left the sledge, and, with Charley, followed them up, while Captain B and Johnston awaited our determination of the course John had finally taken. John, we found, had endeavoured to mount the shore, but the high, perpendicular walls of ice thrown up by the ever-changing tide would not admit of his accomplishing the undertaking.
"From behind these ice barriers the edges of sombre rocks peered through. Johnston was deceived thereby at one particular spot, and exclaimed, 'There he is! There! do you see?' pointing excitedly to the point indicated. For a few moments all eyes were strained; but sighting showed that John's tracks led easterly, and then south, around the spit of land, on the ice. Again we followed on for half a mile, when we were led into a cove that was terminated by a high rock bluff. Here the ice became rough. Captain B and myself were on the sledge, while Charley and Johnston kept directly upon the track. From the bottom or extreme line of the cove that made up to the base of the indicated bluff sprung out another spit, which swept around a little way to the south, its southern side being limited by the channel[3] through which we passed last fall with the Rescue, up into the bay, where we made anchorage while we visited Frobisher Bay. As the tracks of the lost led up into this recess, Captain B and myself thought that John had made his way up into it for the purpose of passing directly across the neck of the peninsula instead of going around it.
"Charley and Johnston thought it best to continue on his track, while Captain B and myself concluded to pass on with the dogs and kummitie till we should reach the place where John would probably make the ice on the other side. The distance around, we thought, could be but trifling. Before we had passed out of sight of the track followers, we heard the loud but mournful toned voice of the Innuit Charley. We checked the dogs, turned them back, and thence followed up. Our eyes were watching intensely each movement, each step of Charley. All at once he stopped, then threw up his arms and hands, letting them fall slowly, droopingly.
"It needed no other language than what we saw in the motions of this noble-hearted Innuit to tell us the terrible termination of this day's search.
"Charley and Johnston turned to meet Captain B and myself. Said they, 'We've found him, and fear he is dead.' Neither had approached nearer than within half a dozen rods
THE LOST FOUND—FROZEN DEAD.
of him whom we had so long sought. I flew as fast as my limbs would carry me. A few moments found me grasping his arm. It was as cold and rigid as the mountains of ice around us!
"Deep silence reigned for awhile, as our little company of four stood around the frozen body of John Brown. There, in the midst of the little circle, lay the form of him who was lost, but now found. But oh, what a finding! Spare me from the like again!
"I had hoped to find the lost man—to have become a guide to him—to have given hope to the despairing—to have saved human life; and yet how thankful I felt that his fate had been truthfully determined.
"Evidently, from his tracks and the rigidness of his limbs, John had died some time in the morning. From the iceberg for a distance of two miles the footprints were quite fresh compared with the tracks we had seen leading to it. It is quite likely that in the covered shelving of the iceberg, whither he made his way so desperately, he spent some of his time in resting—perhaps sleeping. It was almost a sleep of death, for his tracks indicated feebleness—almost a blindness. Two rods before reaching the final spot of his death, we found where he had fallen down as he walked along, the disturbed snow showing that great effort had been made to regain his walking posture. The place where we found him also exhibited unmistakable signs of a terrible struggle to raise himself up again; but alas! a foe as irresistible as iron had been fastening his fingers upon him all the night long. John had fought like a true soldier—like a hero; but he had to yield at last. He died facing the heavens, the left hand by his side, the right extended, and his eyes directed upward, as if the last objects mirrored by them were the stars looking down upon him in his death-struggles. His face bore evidence that his death was like sweet sleep.
"Every article of John's clothing was in its place—his hands mittened—his head, ears, and nose protected as well as they could be by a Russian cap—his feet shielded by native boots and stockings, and his body well clothed in woollen garments, over which was his sealskin jacket.
"Well, we found the lost, determined his terrible fate, and now what remained to be done?
"We considered it imprudent for us to attempt to convey the remains back to the vessel; we thought it our duty to show all becoming respect for the dead, and equally our duty to guard well the living against the exposures that threatened us on our return, for it was now five o'clock p.m., and we were full ten miles by direct route from the ship.
"Captain B and myself concluded to make his grave ashore, at the base of a noble mountain bluff or headland, that would stand for ever as the monument of the deceased. But it was soon found that not a stone could be moved. We then decided to make his grave upon the ice, on the very spot where he died, covering his form with the unspotted ice and snow that lay in profusion around. This sad duty was performed with weeping hearts. When all was completed, with reverential awe of the God of the heavens and the earth, we bent over the grave of our friend, and shed the tears of mourning, tempered with the hope that 'now it is better with thy spirit!'
"With slow steps we moved from this toward the dogs and sledge, by which we were to travel for hours to our quarters. It was half-past five when we left the grave of John Brown. Our team of twelve dogs made rapid progress some of the way, while at times there seemed to be a 'hugging' of the sledge-shoes to the snow that made the draught very heavy. We had some earnest work to do to keep ourselves from freezing. Every now and then we took turns in jumping off and running. Captain B had unfortunately ventured out with a pair of civilization boots, having found his native ones too small. On the return passage he got Johnston to pull off one of his boots, as he found one foot freezing. This simple, quick act of pulling off the captain's boot (with unmittened hand), gave Johnston a pile of frozen fingers. Half a dozen times Johnston's nose was frozen, and as often I rubbed it into order. I took the precaution of keeping myself in active exercise by running along beside the sledge for more than half of the way home. The thermometer was down to 49° below the freezing point, with a fresh wind from the northwest. Thus we had severe battling to do to keep from becoming subjects of King Cold.
"Every now and then I threw myself flat on the sledge, there keeping myself well to the leeward of Captain B and the excellent dog-driver Charley. I then, with face upturned, could see the workings of the Almighty in the heavens above. The aurora was spanning the blue vault, painting in beauteous colours that part of the sky which seemingly overhung the ever-to-be-remembered spot where we had bid adieu to the remains of our friend, John Brown.
"What think you, my friends, were my thoughts, as I lay with my eyes looking above—the glory of God's creation shining upon me—as I was swiftly carried along, with the consciousness in my breast of having performed, on this holy day, simply my duty—the duty of man to man?
"As we neared the vessel, groups of anxious friends came out to meet us. How they peered among our number—all four of us upon the sledge—to see if John Brown was among our company! None of us could speak. It was like a funeral train.
"A voice from one, trembling between hope and fear, asked, as we drove alongside the George Henry, 'Tell us, did you find him?' 'Yes,' I replied. 'Was he dead?' continued the same voice. 'You have it; alas! it is too true,' was my answer.
"Now the terrible news flew from one to another—from forecastle to steerage, all exclaiming, 'How sad—how terrible an end!'
"Having partaken of refreshments, and exchanged my native skin-dress—which was wringing wet with my profuse perspiration of the day—for my civilization clothes, which I wear only when about the ship, I had to relate all the incidents connected with my search to the company around.
"I was sorry to find every one who had been out engaging actively in the search completely used up. The three from whom I parted a little after 2 p.m. did not get to the vessel until near six.
| * | * | * | * | * | * | * | * | * |
"The distance travelled yesterday was full fifty-one English miles, a feat at which I myself am surprised.
"On reaching the vessel about 9 o'clock at night, we found there had been an arrival of Innuits (seven in number) on two sledges, with dogs, from Frobisher Bay settlement. They brought along a portion of the walrus deposited by Charley and Koojesse on the other side of the land that lies between us and Frobisher Bay.
"These Innuits also brought the dog which the unfortunate Brown took with him as a guide. They met the dog out on Frobisher Bay, returning toward the igloos. It had on simply the harness without the draught-trace, which, to all appearance, had been cut with a knife close up to the harness. This dog is a young black one, and was not suitable as a guide. Had Brown taken either of the others (he had his choice), he would have been conducted safely to the vessel. But he felt sure he knew the way. How fatal that assurance has proved to him!
"Bruce, the companion of Brown, arrived with the party of Innuits last evening (5 p.m.). When coming, he was pushing on ahead of the party, and saw, in the distance before him, a black creature which he took to be a bear. He turned upon his heel, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the advancing sledge party, crying to them vociferously to 'ki-ete' (hasten toward him), as a bear was after him. It proved to be the young, docile black dog of Captain B's, which John had taken as his guide to the vessel. The draught-string of ookgook skin (large sealskin) had, without doubt, been used by John to fasten around his kum-ings (native boots), to keep them properly on his feet. We noticed, when we found him last evening, that his feet-gear had apparently just received the addition of new thongs. His tracks showed that his kum-ings had a tendency to slip down, and to make him slipshod.
"The natives brought the dog along with them. As they came across the land, when near Field Bay they found where this black dog had lain down to sleep, and found also that, as he rose, he walked round in circles, then struck westward, instead of the direction of the vessel. This certainly shows that the dog had not answered the purpose as guide to poor John.
"How unfortunate this young man, John Brown, has been in this matter! Had he listened to the advice of either Captain B or his own companion, or to the warnings of the two Innuits, Charley and Koojesse, this sad end of his life which I now record would not have been made.
"His age, I understand, was eighteen at the time of his death. His parents reside in France.
"'Requiescat in pace.'"
PARHELIA, OR MOCK SUNS,
seen at Field Bay, March 14, 1861.
- ↑ Sunday is duff-day with the forward hands. "Duff" is a favourite dish with them, and also, I may say, with the officers and all in the steerage. The "apple-sauce" referred to in Brown's remark is explained by the fact that dried apples are incorporated in the "duff."
- ↑ The short line that connects all the draught lines or traces of the dogs to the runners of the sledge.
- ↑ In this idea, at the time, I was mistaken. The channel (leading to Chapell Inlet) is full five miles more to the southward of French Head. Vide Chart.