Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter XVI
CHAPTER XVI.
Directly after my arrival on board, on April 29th, 1861, I had a good wash, which I stood much in need of. I then found that snow-blindness had come upon me. During the journey I had felt some difficulty in sighting the way, but did not experience any pain. Now, however, my face burned as if on fire, and my eyes were intolerably painful. My cheeks were much the colour of tanned hide, and all about my features gave unmistakable evidence of exposure to severe weather.
That night I again enjoyed the luxury of taking off my skin dress, which I had not been able to do for the previous eight days. But my snow-blindness, which is attended with most excruciating pain, allowed me little rest, and the next morning found me so bad that I could hardly do anything.
It was now the last day of April, 1861, and many symptoms of a change from winter to summer (the only real changes during the year in arctic climes) were observable. True, a heavy snowstorm was prevailing, but the weather was much milder than it had been, and the ice was beginning toy ield. In the morning the ship was released from her ice-fetters, and had lifted herself up full two feet, showing how much lighter she had become through the consumption of stores since the period of freezing in.
On the 3d of May, which was a beautiful and warm day, Ebierbing and Tookoolito arrived, with all their effects, intending to stay with me until I was ready, as previously arranged, to leave for King William's Land. They were well, and had got through the interval since I had last seen them in the usual precarious manner, sometimes with, sometimes without success in sealing, so alternately with or without food.
The following morning we had another snow-storm, which continued with slight intermissions for several days.
On the 6th of May, Captain B, wishing the dogs to be well fed previous to being employed in transporting the whale-boats, stores, &c. over to the whaling dépôt at Cape True, asked several of the Innuits to take them over to Oopungnewing, where there was plenty of walrus skin and meat; but one and all refused. They said "the weather was too bad;" whereupon I volunteered to go with any Innuit that would accompany me; but, finally, the gale having abated. Captain B himself determined to go, taking with him two of the Esquimaux, who at last consented to accompany him.
There were twenty-five dogs, and these we had harnessed to a sledge by the Innuits Charley and Jim Crow, who were ready to start. Captain B went ahead, and I, following with the sledge, soon overtook him, but not until I had seen a good specimen of dog-driving.
At the beginning it was slow work to get the dogs under way, but, once on the start, away they went, pell-mell together, and swiftly, over the fair white snow. It was amusing to see my Greenland dogs, with the others, weaving and knitting, braiding and banding their traces into knots and webs that apparently would defy human devices to unravel. One dog would leap over the backs of a dozen others; another dog, receiving the snap of the thirty-feet lash in the driver's hands, thinking it the work of his nearest neighbour, would seize him, as if to repay it by a ten-fold severer snap; then the rest would join in the fray, till all became involved in a regular dog-fight. It was a picture to see these twenty-five dogs flying almost with the speed of wind over the frozen surface of the deep snow. But, after joining the captain and resigning to him my place, it was not quite so pleasant for me to return. I had but light garments on, and the weather was still severe. However, the distance was not far, and I reached the ship without much difficulty.
Captain B, to my astonishment, returned on the following day at about 10 p.m. He had duly arrived at Oopungnewing; was hospitably received in Bob's igloo for the night; and, having supplied himself with a load of walrus meat—indeed, he might have had half a dozen loads, so abundant was the supply at that time—and preferring to return rather than stay where the igloos were about tumbling down, owing to the moist weather, he came back in the midst of the continuous storm. The labour of getting over the Bayard Taylor Pass was very severe to him, especially at the steep ascent on the other side. He could only make two or three steps before he was obliged to rest, each step carrying him thigh deep into the soft snow.
With the captain came "Bob" and his wife "Polly;" but this time Bob came in a professional capacity. He was a doctor, or, rather, an angeko, and now came to visit the sick mother of Sharkey.
The following day I chanced to witness him engaged at the work. I was walking among the ruined igloos, which, having fallen down, had been nearly all replaced by skin tents, when I heard the peculiar sound of ankooting close by. It was near the tupic of Ar-tung-ung, mother of Sharkey; but I did not enter, for generally no one but the family is allowed to be present on such occasions; and, though one cannot help pitying the superstitious feeling that directs them to this, yet why should any of us make light of it? They are earnest in the matter, and only follow the customs of their fathers for generations before them. Possibly, however, it may yet be the honour of our country, through some noble-hearted Christian philanthropist, to bring them to a knowledge of the one true God.
The Innuit Bob was a man that every one of us highly esteemed. I have before alluded to him in warm terms, and I will now mention a circumstance which belonged to the romantic incidents of his life.
In the winter of 1854-5, he and a companion, with some dogs, attacked a large polar bear. His companion's name was Se-nik-too—"Moose," as called by the whalers. He afterward, in 1858, died at Allen's Island, leaving a widow—the Puto whom I have frequently named.
Moose fired at the bear, when it rushed toward them. Bob stood his ground until he too had fired, and then immediately turned and ran; but the next moment the bear was upon him, and, seizing his left shoulder in its jaws, threw him high over its head, as if he had been a mere bag of feathers! Bob fell about four fathoms off, and was getting up, when the bear again laid hold of him, this time by the leg, and gave him another toss. The dogs, however, now managed to keep the animal at bay; and Moose coming to Bob's aid, they bravely renewed the attack, until at length these courageous Innuits succeeded in conquering the brute. Unfortunately, they lost him after all their trouble, for the ice broke, and the tide swept their prize away.
I saw the scars of the wounds inflicted by this monster. Bob taking off his reindeer dress in the main cabin to gratify me. Captain B said that the laceration was terrible, for he had seen it a few days after the occurrence, and administered such relief as was in his power. Bob was undoubtedly a powerful man, muscular, full-breasted, of great nerve, and firm as iron. When he stripped I had a good opportunity to see this, and he allowed me to take the measurement of his body.7
On the 10th of May Ebierbing's grandmother, the aged Ookijoxy Ninoo, arrived with him from Cornelius Grinnell Bay, where he had been to fetch her to his home. I was anxious for a conversation with her, as she could give me much information, from native traditions and personal observation, about the Frobisher expeditions of 1576-8; but it was not until the next day that I had the opportunity.
Next morning I went on shore at Cooper's Island, a small island near the George Henry in Rescue Harbour, where Ebierbing, Tookoolito, and Ookijoxy Ninoo lived in tupics. Our conversation commenced by my leading the way, through Ebierbing, his wife acting as interpreter, which, aided by my own increasing knowledge of the language, enabled me to quite understand the old lady's narrative.
Ebierbing said that "he well recollected, when a boy, seeing, on an island near Oopungnewing, oug (something red, which I inferred, from his subsequent explanation, to mean bricks) and coal. At that time he knew not what those things were, but when he visited England in 1855, he there saw bricks, and understood their use for the first time. Coal he had seen on board an English whaler previous to that, but not until years after his noticing these things on the island. He said he used to play with these bricks, piling them up in rows and in various forms, as children often do, and also marked stones with them, and was delighted to see the red strokes. He also remembered Innuit women using the bricks, whenever they could be obtained, for polishing the brass ornaments worn on the head. Likewise he could well remember how some of his aged people told him that many—a great many years ago, ships came into the Bay Tin-nu-jok-ping-oo-se-ong" (Frobisher Bay). This was Ebierbing's statement. I now proceed to that of his grandmother. But, before doing this, let me describe the scene as it was at the time of my receiving the following important communication from her.
Her tupic was very small—only large enough to hold herself comfortably in a sitting or reclining posture—but I managed to squeeze in beside her, seating myself at her right side. Tookoolito was outside by the entrance, facing the old lady and myself.
The position of Ookijoxy Ninoo was usually a reclining one, she resting her elbows on the pillow-place of her bed, and her chin upon her hands. By her side was her little kood-lin (lamp), and in front of that was a small board, on which was a handful of baked beans given to her by some one from the ship, and also a few broken pieces of sea-bread which Tookoolito had saved for her. There was, besides, abundance of walrus blubber and skin for her to eat when hungry.
OLD OOKIJOXY NINOO NARRATING THE TRADITIONS OF HER PEOPLE.
During the time I was in her tupic and listening to her words, a favourite grandchild of hers, E-ter-loong, was just outside, frequently crying for food. The old lady gave the child a part of the beans and biscuit; but his noise was a great interruption.
The weather was very cold—bitterly so; and I often requested Tookoolito to take my place inside, but she preferred my retaining "the seat of honour."
The following is the substance of her statements to me respecting the objects of my inquiry.
Placing before her the sketch-chart formerly drawn by Koojesse, and showing her Cornelius Grinnell Bay, Singeyer, Field Bay, tracing along down through Bear Sound to Cape True, thence to Oopungnewing, I asked her if she recognised those particular parts. Her reply was that she did; and immediately asked, "What is the name of the island where Koochooarchu (Sampson) was?" meaning the island where myself, with Sterry and Kokerjabin, visited Sampson on the previous April 27th. I replied, "Ak-koo-wie-shut-too-ping."
"That," said she, "is where I have spent much of my life—many of my best days. But the place where the kodlunas (white people) of the ships landed is called Niountelik, an island near Oopungnewing."
She then proceeded to say that upon Niountelik she had seen bricks, and coal, and pieces of timber of various sizes. She had also heard from old Innuits that, many years before, ships had landed there with a great number of people. She remembered, when a little girl, hearing Innuits tell about these people having killed several Innuits; also that farther down, or on Kingaite side, as the old lady spoke it, they took away two Innuit women, who never came back again.
I asked her if she knew how many ships had come there? Her reply was, They came every year; first two, then three, then am-a-su-ad-lo oo-moo-arch-chu-a (many—a great many ships). "Five Innuits were also killed by the kodlunas" (white people). Not feeling quite certain of the meaning of her answer, I repeated the question. How many ships came here? Tookoolito, on receiving the answer, gave it to me in this way: "She said 'they came every year,'" and then ceased from repeating more of the old woman's words. This puzzled me; I knew not what to make of it. I began to think that perhaps whaling ships had annually visited the great bay. But, after a few moments, I found Tookoolito had ceased speaking merely to consider the true interpretation of what the old lady had said into my vernacular. She continued by saying, "First two, then two or three, then many—very many vessels."
This was clear; and I immediately took up the only book I then had with me bearing upon the subject, "Barrow's Chronological History of Arctic Discovery," and, turning to the account of Frobisher's voyages, I read what had been given to the world by means of writing and printing, and compared it with what was now communicated to me by means of oral tradition. Written history tells me that Frobisher made three voyages to the arctic regions as follows:—
Frst voyage in 1576, with two[1] vessels.
Second voyage in 1577, three vessels.
Third voyage in 1578, fifteen vessels.
Traditionary history informs me that a great many, many years ago the vessels of white men visited the bay (Frobisher's) three successive years:—
First, in two vessels.
Second, in three vessels.
Third, in many vessels.
But this is not all that traditionary history gave me on that day. Written history states that Frobisher lost five of his men on his first voyage when conveying a native on shore. Oral history told me that five white men were captured by Innuit people at the time of the appearance of the ships a great many years ago; that these men wintered on shore (whether one, two, three, or more winters, could not say); that they lived among the Innuits; that they afterward built an oomien (large boat), and put a mast into her, and had sails; that early in the season, before much water appeared, they endeavoured to depart; that, in the effort, some froze their hands; but that finally they succeeded in getting into open water, and away they went, which was the last seen or heard of them. This boat, as near as I could make out at the time, was built on the island that Frobisher and his company landed upon, viz. Niountelik.
I have here put down a part only of what I recorded in my journal at the time, and, consequently, much of it will be found to have been the result of some slight mistake in what I then understood; but, coupled with the previous statements of Koojesse, and the information which I afterward obtained, it will be seen that the main facts about Frobisher's Expedition are well supported by evidence.
The old lady further informed me that frequently, in her lifetime, she had seen wood, chips, coal, and bricks, and large pieces of very heavy stone, on the island of Niountelik.
This again puzzled me. What could "very heavy stone" mean? I asked her "what kind of stone it was," and to this she replied, "It was black, and very heavy. No Innuits had ever seen such kind of stones before."
This at once led me to conclude that the heavy stones were iron; and still more so when Tookoolito observed, "I think, from what the old lady says, these stones were very heavy, a small one being as much as an Innuit could lift. I think, perhaps," added she, "they were iron." "And so do I. By-and-by, I will see to it," was my reply.
The information thus obtained seemed so clearly to bear upon Frobisher's Expedition that I determined, as soon as I could, to visit Niountelik, and ascertain all about the matter. I thought to myself, if such facts concerning an expedition which had been made nearly three hundred years ago can be preserved by the natives, and evidence of those facts obtained, what may not be gleaned of Sir John Franklin's Expedition of only sixteen years ago? The singular fate of La Perouse and his expedition was unknown to the civilized world for thirty-eight years, and then brought to light only by the exertions of one individual. Captain Dillon, an English master of a merchant ship! Here, too, we have the first intimation of the fate of Frobisher's five men—after being shrouded in mystery for 285 years—all but determined by personal inquiry among the natives! Why not, then, be able to ascertain from the same natives—that is, of the same Innuit race—all those particulars so interesting, and many of them so important to science, concerning the Lost Polar Expedition? I was now convinced, more than I had ever been, that the whole mystery of their fate could have been, and may yet be easily determined with even the smallest well-directed aid. At all events, I felt that, while life and health should be spared me, I would devote myself to this undertaking.
Such was the current of my thoughts at the time I was in the old lady's tupic and listening to her words; and, let me add, such are now my thoughts, and, so far as may be permitted, such are my intentions.
In continuation of my interview with the aged Innuit, I asked her why Innuits, as I had been informed, do not now live upon the land beyond Bear Sound, extending eastward between the waters of Frobisher Bay and Field Bay?
To this, as interpreted, she said—
"A great many years ago, before I (Ookijoxy Ninoo) was born, the Innuits all around these bays were very many. The number of Innuits on Ki-ki-tuk-ju-a (Lok's Land of Frobisher) and the other islands in that direction was great; but at one time they were nearly all out on the ice, when it separated from the land and took them out to sea. They never came back, nor did any Innuit ever hear of them again. Since then, Innuits never live there, nor ever visit the place."
As she spoke about this catastrophe she did so under evident feelings of constraint and horror; and when I asked if she had ever visited it, her emphatic reply was, "Never! Never!"
This accounted to me for much apparent mystery which I had noticed respecting the region in question whenever I addressed any Innuit upon the subject. They could not—or would not—give me any information about it; and when I once tried to get a company of natives to go there with me, all refused. Yet every year they make frequent passages, backward and forward through the channel Is-se-hi-suk-ju-a (called by Frobisher Bear Sound), dividing the "ill-fated land" from the main.
The old woman further added that the Innuits had lived on that land, as Innuits do live—that is, moving about wherever food can be had—both before and after the white men's ships came years ago; but, since the great disaster occurred which swept so many of her people away, no Innuits would go there.
After eliciting all the information I then could from the old woman, I left her, with great astonishment at her powers of memory, and the remarkable way in which this strange people of the icy North, who have no written language, can correctly preserve history from one generation to another.
Nine generations had passed away since the visit of Frobisher, yet now, on the 11th of May, 1861, I received from an old woman, probably a hundred years old, statements which I could not otherwise than believe to be facts concerning him and his co-adventurers! I was astonished, and also, in a measure, pleased, for it gave me stronger hopes than ever of my being able thereafter to obtain all the knowledge I required concerning the expedition of Franklin. Meanwhile I determined upon revisiting Oopungnewing, and going to Niountelik as soon as possible.
At this time all on board the George Henry were very busy in certain matters connected with the ship, such as refitting and preparing her for the time when she might proceed to other quarters for whaling operations. Boats on sledges, men and their apparel, sleeping-gear, and other necessary material, were daily sent off to the working dépôt at Cape True, in Frobisher Bay, so that on the 17th of May only three white men remained in the vessel.
I now decided to make a sledge exploring trip up the Bay of Frobisher, as I could not depart for King William's Land till about the 1st of August, the earliest practicable moment of being able to commence my journey by boat to that locality.
At this time Tookoolito was suddenly taken ill. It was on the evening of May 8th, when, as I was engaged upon my charts, Tookoolito aiding me in the Innuit names, I noticed she suddenly dropped her head, as I thought, to reflect upon something. But Sharkey's wife, who was sitting opposite, soon convinced me to the contrary by springing toward her. I saw what the matter was in a moment. Tookoolito had fainted; and, when aided by such means as were in my power, she soon revived, but a general prostration, accompanied by terrible pains in the head, ensued. As it was necessary for her to have immediate rest, she was placed in my berth, and the little girl, Ookoodlear, sent to attend upon her.
Meanwhile I had another patient suddenly on my hands. Directly Tookoolito revived, Mam-ma-yat-che-ung, wife of Sharkey, was seized with bleeding at the lungs. The poor woman, like many of her people, especially those of her sex, was in a rapid decline, and, as I thought, had not long to live. She had gone upon deck, where I found her coughing and vomiting up blood most fearfully. The snow-wreath at the gangway was crimsoned as if a bear's jugular had been opened there. I at once gave her a glass of alum water, which checked it after she had bled for some twenty minutes. She then went down to my cabin, and attended upon Tookoolito until the return of Ebierbing, who was greatly affected at the condition of his wife.
Poor Tookoolito continued very sick for some days, but, with such care and relief as could be given to her, she ultimately got well enough to go about as usual. Perhaps the cause of her sickness was over-exertion in moving their tupic from one island to another the day previous. It had been heavy work for her, but she had to do it, for the custom among Innuits is to make the women perform all such domestic and ordinary labour.
Before leaving for my exploration of the Frobisher waters, I determined to examine the head of Field Bay, the bay where we were now at anchor. I commenced the work at 9 a.m. of the 20th of May. The Innuits Ebierbing and the angeko, with Mam-ma-nar-ping, one of the wives of the latter, were with me, though the two former only went part of the way, they leaving me to chase some reindeer, the tracks of which we found near the foot of Grinnell Mountain. I myself, with the woman as guide and attendant, continued the trip alone.
The travelling was very bad, in consequence of the snow having melted and formed several pools. Over these pools, which almost uniformly covered the sea-ice, was a thin coating of fresh-water-ice, not uniformly of sufficient thickness and strength to bear our walking upon it; indeed, but a small portion of it was firm enough to hold us up. Whenever it gave way, down we would go, ankle deep, and sometimes deeper. Then, too, the dazzling glare of the ice on the upper part of the bay caused additional care and labour in walking.
Every few rods we saw seals out on the ice, basking in the sun's rays.
At 4 p.m. we made land, and there stopped to rest and dine. I had abundance of hard bread and a large piece of salt pork, and at that season of the year there was plenty of fresh water to be obtained. Thus we were able to make a good repast, and, after a short stay, proceed on our journey.
Our way led us toward Alden Mountain;[2] and we had to go over an extensive plain, deeply covered with snow, which is at the head of Field Bay. Almost every half-dozen steps were sure to be succeeded by a downfall of no pleasant character, and it was severe to me, besides being injurious to my box chronometer slung at my side. Never did I experience more annoying travel. As we proceeded it became much worse. Every few steps, down, down we went, oftener waist-deep than otherwise. Sometimes the surface snow would appear firm, and then I had hope of all being right for our getting forward, but the next moment we were sinking to our hips in some treacherous spot. Occasionally I would be making fair headway, when my Innuit guide would go down, and, while trying to help her up, the snow-crust would give way, and I then followed suit. It seemed as if it took three hours for us to make one mile.
After much struggling we arrived at a small rocky hill, and, ascending it, an extensive view was before me. On the west of us I could see a lakelet, long and narrow, that extended in a northerly direction to the base of Alden Mountain. This lakelet, on my way back, proved to be influenced in its waters by the sea for two or three days at the periods of high tides—full and change.
It was now 8 p.m. We were both much fatigued, and yet it would not do to remain. Not a blanket had we, nor any article that would serve to keep warmth in us during the night, which, however, was now daylight all through. The heavens were covered with portentous clouds, and many circumstances led me to conclude it most advisable to return; but I could hardly determine in what direction it would be best to go. There were the plains, but they were covered deeply with the treacherous snow. As I reflected, a passage in the "Good Book" came to my mind: "Be angry, and sin not;" but, whether I sinned or not, God only is my judge. This, however, I must confess: that as I walked on that treacherous snow-crust, every now and then going down, down, down, my temper at length would fly up, up, up, making the scale-beam keep dancing for full three hours, until some fair walking gave ease to my weary limbs and quiet to my ruffled soul.
On a careful survey of the routes we could follow, I finally decided upon going to a low ridge which was farther west of us and free from snow. That ridge extended in a line running to the S.S.E. and lay in about the direction I wanted to go. To reach it we had to traverse along an abrupt sand-bank bordering the lakelet already mentioned. We then came to a beautiful grassy plain quite destitute of snow, and over which it was a perfect luxury to travel. All my weariness and pain were quite forgotten in walking across this carpet of Nature. It was surrounded by rugged, sombre, rocky mountains, and consequently appeared to me like an oasis in the great desert. For nearly one year I had sighted nothing but rocks, rocks, rocks, here, there, and everywhere, piled into mountains of such varied and horrible shapes that they seemed as if created to strike terror into the heart of man; and now to fall thus unexpectedly upon a plain covered with grass, yielding so friendly and "down "-like to my aching feet, particularly under the circumstances described, was enough for me to express my great joy and admiration.
It is said that the name Greenland was given to that land by the Norwegians and Icelanders because it looked greener than Iceland. I could, therefore, on my trip across that grassy plain, fully appreciate their feelings on beholding a greener land than their own. Yet many a one going directly from the United States and visiting Greenland would from the bottom of his soul exclaim,
"This Greenland! Then, indeed, have I come into a Paradise, but into that of which Milton speaks:—
" '...o'er the back side of the world far off,
Into a limbo large and broad, since called
The Paradise of Fools.'"
With reference to the plain I crossed over, Tookoolito afterward informed me that in 1860 a company of Innuits, herself and Ebierbing of the number, spent three weeks in passing over the land amid the mountains, and on other plains of great extent westward of Cornelius Grinnell Bay. Their trip was made for a reindeer hunt. On their way, and running northwest from the plain near what I have called Alden Mountain, was another plain, extending in every direction as far as the eye could reach. This convinced me that in general arctic navigators know but little about the interior of the northern country. Rarely anything but the coasts are seen and explored. On the trip I am now referring to I saw more level ground than since I left the United States. Nothing in Greenland that I saw could compare with it.
Tookoolito also informed me that reindeer visit those plains in great numbers. On their excursion they killed as many as they wanted; and so numerous were the deer that they might be compared to flocks of sheep. Much of the meat they had obtained during the hunt was left behind. The fawns were chased down by the Innuits and caught; as she said, "their feet being dry, they could not run well. When the feet of tuktoo are wet, they can go much faster over the mountain rocks."
From information I afterward obtained, the plains here spoken of appeared to be well known to our friendly Innuits as a breeding-place for the deer; and the whole country between Frobisher Bay and Niountelik (a place in the north part of Northumberland Inlet) had been frequently traversed by several of the intelligent natives who visited us; but, unless discreetly questioned, it is rare for an Esquimaux to say much of himself, his people, or his native land. It is only by degrees, and by a long association with them, that any one can elict any material facts.
At half-past 10 p.m. we were on the top of another mountain. Here we had something more to eat; and then, proceeding to the sea-ice, directed our steps toward the vessel. The walk was one of great labour, yet not so trying to the temper as that of some previous portion of the day.
At three o'clock in the morning we arrived on board of the ship, completely exhausted with the fatiguing journey, made, during eighteen hours, over a distance of about twenty-five miles.