Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 2/Chapter 17

by Charles Francis Hall

CHAPTER XVII.

Innuit Food—Picture of a Dinner-party—Rabbit-charming—Proposed Flying Trip—Freaks of Jennie—Her Foot-race after the Sledge—Feminine Coquetry—Sharkey's Despair—Change of Plans—Koojesse's Ugliness—Final Adjustment of Plan.—Departure on Flying Trip—An Upset—Wolves—Chase of a Bear and Cub—Capture of the latter—Night Travelling—Return to Place of Starting—Set out for the Ship—Arrive on Board.

On leaving our ninth encampment on Saturday, May 3d, 1862, we proceeded toward some islands nearly due east of us, and, after a journey of ten miles, came to M'Lean Island,^[1] where we found two igloos occupied by the Innuits Koo-kin and "Bill," with their families. We were hospitably received, and made our tenth encampment^[2] there.

I was now living wholly on Innuit food, to which I had become so accustomed as to eat it without difficulty. Were I to mention in detail what took place, and what was eaten at our meals, it would doubtless appear disgusting to most of my readers; but there is no alternative in the matter of eating with Innuits. One has to make up his mind, if he would live among that people, to submit to their customs, and to be entirely one of them. When a white man for the first time enters one of their tupics or igloos, he is nauseated with everything he sees and smells—even disgusted with the looks of the innocent natives, who extend to him the best hospitality their means afford. Take, for instance, the igloo in which I had an excellent dinner on the day last mentioned. Any one from the States, if entering this igloo with me, would see a company of what he would call a dirty set of human beings, mixed up among masses of nasty, uneatable flesh, skins, blood, and bones, scattered all about the igloo. He would see, hanging over a long, low flame, the oo-koo-sin (stone kettle), black with soot and oil of great age, and filled to its utmost capacity with black meat, swimming in a thick, dark, smoking fluid, as if made by boiling down the dirty scrapings of a butcher's stall. He would see men, women, and children—my humble self included—engaged in devouring the contents of that kettle, and he would pity the human beings who could be reduced to such necessity as to eat the horrid stuff. The dishes out of which the soup is taken would turn his stomach, especially when he should see dogs wash them out with their long pliant tongues previous to our using them. But I will not multiply particulars.

Sharkey this day saw a rabbit when out on the island hunting partridges, but could not get a shot at it. If "Jennie," or any other female songster, had been with him, he would probably have secured it. Innuits, when they go after rabbits, generally have such a vocalist with them. While she sings "charmingly" the sportsman is enabled to have a fair shot. The rabbit delights in listening to the music of a female Innuit voice, and will stop, sit up, and be shot under its charms.

The scarcity of provisions, combined with the troubles I encountered with the evil-disposed Innuits, Koojesse and Jennie, had been so great, that I had determined to abandon my journey farther up the bay, and return at once to the Countess of Warwick's Sound; but we now found ourselves so abundantly supplied that I concluded to take Sharkey, and, leaving the rest of my company at the place of the tenth encampment, to make a flying trip up the bay with sledge and dogs. Sharkey at first cheerfully assented to my proposition, but on May 6th he signified to me his desire to take Jennie with him. I declined to accede to this request, and he acquiesced in my decision, but Jennie flew into a rage. She put on her kodlings and dodged out of the igloo, attempting to run away; Sharkey darted after her, and in about an hour they returned, on apparently amicable terms.

The next morning, May 7th, I went on with my preparations for departure; the movements of Jennie showed plainly that she intended to go. When the sledge was nearly loaded, I went to Koojesse and asked him if Jennie was really going with us; he answered affirmatively, and I therefore called Sharkey into the igloo and talked with him. He acted nobly, telling Jennie that she must remain with Koojesse and Tunukderlien till our return. He had previously bound her jacket and tuktoo bed upon the sledge, but at once threw them off, though I could see that he had a mountain of trouble within. After much delay we started.

When we were out on the sea-ice we kept a sharp watch of Jennie's movements. She was out on the rocks, with her head turned to a bluff, and bellowing like an angeko while engaged in some of his incantations. In about half an hour she was discovered following us; Sharkey closely examined her movements through the glass, and declared that she was indeed after us, and that she would travel all day and all night till she reached us. I at once decided to await her coming up, for my heart was moved for the poor fellow, who so fondly loved her, though she was unworthy of his affection.

When we paused for her to come up, Sharkey took the water-bag and the tin cup, and set out for an island at our left, distant a quarter of a mile, for water. His course was taken so that he intercepted Jennie when he was returning with his water to the sledge. She, however, paid no attention to him, but kept on, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left. Sharkey called to her, but she turned not, still continuing her rapid gait, and proudly striking into her open hand a loose mitten she carried in the other. Sharkey quickened his pace to catch up to her, repeatedly calling to her, but she walked stoically on. At length he overtook her, and tried to arrest her in her course. She threw him aside as if he were a viper, and walked on. Then Sharkey once more approached, and threw his arm around her caressingly. She gave no heed. Finally, in despair, he gave up, stooped down, buried his face in his hands, and poured out his weeping soul in a flood of tears. Then, rising up, he swung his arms about, and gave vent to his feelings in loud and broken cries, returning to the sledge, while the stubborn idol of his affections, with apparent indifference, pursued her way.

I addressed him sympathizingly, my heart overflowing with love for my wounded friend. He pointed to his wife, who still trudged on, crying "Jennie! Jennie!" putting his hand on his heart and weeping. Under the circumstances, I decided to return to our encampment. As soon as we reached it, Sharkey started out with the dogs, ostensibly for the purpose of sealing. I knew, however, that his purpose was to go in pursuit of his wife. Some hours later he returned with Jennie, both apparently contented.

I now at first though I might as well give up this trip, and commence my return down the bay. Then I determined to take Henry as my dog-driver, and proceed to explore the bay alluded to on page 99, some fifty miles to the N.W. by W. of our tenth encampment. I had before believed that Koojesse was at the bottom of Jennie's evil actions, and I now became thoroughly convinced of the fact; for, when he heard of my latest plan, he seemed determined to put as many blocks in my way as possible. He consented, for a consideration, to let me have the use of his dogs, but refused to allow me to take my own tupic. Then I hinted at returning at once to the ship; but this did not suit him; he wanted to stop where we were several days; and he declared that, if he was compelled to start the next day, the distance made would be "smalley." At last I offered him my rifle, which he wanted very much, if he would accompany me and do as he should on the trip I wished to make. His whole conduct changed immediately from that of a bitter enemy to that of a cheerful friend. The arrangement was made that Koojesse and Sharkey were to go, while Jennie and Tunukderlien were to remain with Henry, the Innuits Kookin and "Bill" having agreed with me to supply them with food. My conviction that Koojesse was the instigator of Jennie's freaks prior to this received confirmation from the perfect acquiescence of the woman in this plan after hearing a few words from him.

So, after much trouble, with Kojesse and Sharkey as my companions for the trip, I again started at 9 a.m. of the 8th of May. Our progress on the firm ice was fair, our course northerly and westerly. In and out among numerous islands, and with a few stoppages to take bearings and make observations, we passed on for several miles, seeing places on the mainland familiar to me, and finally, after twelve hours' travel, making a distance of twenty-three miles, encamped on Field's Island,^[3] at the entrance of Waddell Bay. The following day, May 9th, we were at the entrance to the bay—A. H. Ward's Inlet,^[4] as I named it—which I had so long desired to explore; but, on the next, owing to bad weather and soft snow, we could proceed only a short distance. On the 11th, however, we made rapid progress, passing on the east side of a long island, the scenery magnificent, and, going through a place where the mountains almost meet, and which I call "The Narrows," finally arriving at the head of this truly romantic and beautiful inlet at about 2 p.m.

Just before passing up through the Narrows, we saw that the ice ahead was completely riddled with seal-holes, and that seals in immense numbers were lying by them basking. Sharkey laid himself down, and proceeded with his gun to make the usual Innuit approaches, as already described, toward a place where some seals were close together. At last he shot one, having been one hour and twenty-five minutes crawling up to within six fathoms of his prey. A raw and blood-warm seal-feast immediately followed, for this was the first thing secured for four days. Never did I enjoy anything with a better relish.

On the right of the extreme termination there is a bold mountain, with a ravine between it and the opposite side, which is gradually sloping. The bay or harbour between the Narrows and the termination of the inlet is indeed magnificent. After staying here as long as my time would permit, and having determined that no "strait" or passage exists in this direction, I started on my return, and soon again arrived at the Narrows. Here the view below was one of the most interesting I had beheld since arriving North. From the Narrows, which is from one-sixth to one-third of a mile wide, to the termination of this arm of Ward's Inlet, is a distance of four miles. This beautiful sheet of water I have named Ann Maria Port.^[5] As we made our way through the Narrows on our return, the view, on looking down the inlet, was truly

TERMINATION OF WARD'S INLET—THE NARROWS AND ANN MARIA PORT.

magnificent. The long line of black, jagged, buttress-like mountains on either side of the pure white pathway before us presented a scene that I shall not soon forget.

As we returned down this inlet, going at a slower rate than usual, a seal was seen ahead. In an instant the dogs, which were very hungry, bounded off at a rate of not less than twelve miles an hour. The seal, frightened, made a plunge down into its hole; the dogs, flying onward so furiously, passed it, but the wind, carrying the smell of the seal to their noses, made them turn sharply round in a second. The consequence was that the sledge-runner caught in the snow-crust, and sent me heels over head off the sledge, to which my Innuit companions clung with all their might. The runners of this sledge were twelve feet long, and the left one was split from stem to stern; but, though this was a serious disaster, yet no considerable regret was manifested on the part of the natives. Koojesse and Sharkey immediately set to work with their seal-spears, and succeeded in mortising three holes in the lower half of the runner in the short space of time that it took me to write the pencil notes recording the incident. It was not long before the runner was strapped together, and we were again on our way down on the western side of the large island which we passed in the morning, I hoping not to see another seal that day. It was 10 p.m. when we arrived at the south end of the Kikitukjua—Augustus Island, as I called it—and made our fourteenth encampment. We had travelled forty miles that day after leaving the thirteenth encampment, which was on a small island not far from the east side of Augustus Island. We slept soundly, though our couch was the bare rock. On the morning of the 12th, when we awoke, we found ourselves beneath a snow-drift—that is to say, some eight or ten inches of snow had fallen during the night, giving us a clean, warm coverlet. The weather being unpropitious for travelling, we remained at the same place during the day. The following day, May 13th, at 10 a.m. we resumed our journey, passing along down by the coast of Becher Peninsula,^[6] on the west side of the inlet, directing our course toward Mary's Island, the place of the twentieth encampment of my boat expedition the previous fall. We had not proceeded far on our way when a smart breeze from the north-west sprung up, and before we had made half the distance to Mary's Island it increased to a gale, accompanied with pelting drift. I know not that I ever experienced more disagreeable travelling than on this occasion. The snow flew furiously, eddying around our heads, and dropping down into our laps as we sat upon the sledge with our backs to the gale. The sun was out with thawing heat, melting the snows in our front, wetting our furs, while the temperature at our backs was 14° below the freezing mark. When we reached the point at the west side of the entrance to Ward's Inlet at 8 a.m. we were compelled to stop and go into camp.

My notes, written upon the spot, read, "Stop on account of the driving gale and drift. Sharkey proceeds to make an igloo. Koojesse is sick—knocked up completely, while I am in perfect health."

As I have said, the sun was out, notwithstanding the flying drift; therefore I proceeded to occupy myself as usual in making observations for time, and taking a round of angles, &c.

I continue extracts from my rough and ready note-book of same date (May 13th): "The gale abated 2 p.m. yet snow flying thick over toward Kingaite. Thought of starting, but, desirous of having good and extensive views when I cross the Bay of Frobisher to Kingaite side, I decided to hold over till to-morrow. It will take two days' good weather to get back to the place of tenth encampment—perhaps three. Koojesse and Sharkey gathered from the mountain's side a skin jacket full of Northern wood (dwarf shrub), with which we cooked a soup. The dogs have no food. To supply them and ourselves, shall have to let the Innuits seal to-morrow. Gave Koojesse pills to-night; he is badly off.

"Wednesday, May 14th.—Up at 2 a.m. We cooked our breakfast of tuktoo and seal. Used the straw (dwarf shrub) of our beds for fuel. This morning, as a matter of trial of the pluck of my companions, I proposed to continue up to the head of Frobisher Bay. The Innuits expressed a willingness to go. I have no idea of doing this, but now intend to cross Frobisher Bay to-day from Noo-ook-too-ad-loo, a small island close by Rae's Point, direct to Kingaite, and thence pass down by the coast to near where I had my ninth encampment, and then recross the bay to place of tenth encampment. The weather is thick this morning, but there is a bright streak along the horizon in the east. The dogs are very hungry. Last night they ate up the whip-lash, which was thirty feet long. They are voracious. I witnessed a sight some days since of a hungry dog swallowing down a piece of kow (walrus hide and blubber) one inch and a half square and six feet long in seven seconds! The act I timed by chronometer."

At 5 a.m. we left the place of sixteenth encampment, directing our course to the westward, and in two hours arrived at the island Noo-ook-too-ad-loo, which Sharkey and myself ascended. Here we saw some partridges and many rabbit tracks. One of the former Sharkey shot. While on this island I took, a round of angles, sighting various important points necessary toward completing my chart of the bay. Thence we departed at 9 a.m. striking nearly due west to cross the Bay of Frobisher. We found the ice very rough, and consequently our progress was slow. A few minutes before twelve, meridian, as we were about to enter among the numerous islands that lie across the bay, beginning at "Frobisher's Farthest," we stopped, when I proceeded to make observations for latitude, solar bearings, &c. When I found my position was such that various capes, promontories, islands, and inlets that I had visited were in sight, and knowing I could then better determine their relative geographical position, I was delighted, and especially so when I had the President's Seat dancing and circling round in the mirror of my sextant, till it finally rested on the mountain heights of Frobisher's Farthest, on the exact spot where I had made astronomical observations on the 22d of August, 1861, the previous year. Thence we proceeded among many islands, and came to a channel where we found a space of open water abounding in ducks and other aquatic birds, and seals. Here the tide was rushing furiously through like a mill-race, and this prevented us from securing more than half of our game, for as the ducks and seals were shot they were liable to be carried rapidly away beneath the ice. Sharkey, however, shot and secured one seal which weighed about three hundred pounds, and also killed several brace of ducks.

While the hunters were engaged at this work I took my instruments and went upon the hill of an island to have a look around and to triangulate. When at the summit and quietly taking a survey, I heard a deep tiger-like growl. I listened, and glanced quickly in the direction whence it came. I saw nothing, and soon raised my sextant to my eye, when another and another growl assailed my ear. Again I looked around, but could see nothing, though I concluded it must be either a polar bear or a wolf. Therefore, considering my unarmed state, and the distance I had climbed up the mount, away from all assistance, I thought the better part of valour in such a case was to beat a hasty retreat. The distance to the sea-ice was one mile, and thence to where my companions were, another mile. I shall not soon forget that day's adventure. I awaited the fourth growl, and when that came I quickly packed up instruments and started on a run, turning every few moments to see whether I was ahead. In my course was a long drift of snow, and as I was making a rapid transit of this, a spot in it proved treacherously soft, which gave me a fall, and heels over head I went to the bottom of the hill. Fortunately it was the quickest and most direct passage I could make, and, as it happened, no bone or anything else was broken. When I arrived back and told my companions what I had heard, they declared I had had a narrow escape from either hungry wolves or a polar bear. It was 4.30 p.m. when we resumed our way across Frobisher Bay. Having got fairly through the passage between the islands on the ice-foot, we turned southerly. We soon saw ahead immense numbers of seals out on the ice. They extended over a large area, and were so numerous that with my glass I could not count them.

Just as we were turning off the ice to an island—J. K. Smith Island, as I named it—on which we had proposed to make our seventeenth encampment, three wolves appeared in sight, coming swiftly on our track, and presently on came a fourth—all most ferocious-looking brutes. They were bold, approaching quite near, watching our movements, and now and then opening and snapping their teeth, and smacking their chaps, as if already feasting on human steaks and blood.

THE HUNGRY WOLVES.

We prepared for the fray by arming with rifle, gun, and spear, each ready to defend himself as best he could. Between the wolves and us was much hummocky ice. Behind this ice we placed ourselves, each seeking to get a good shot. Sharkey led in the attack, levelling his gun on the instant that one of these savage foes began to make its approach. The result was that the hungry wolf turned tail, and went off limping, minus a man-supper, his companions following him.

After the excitement of this affair was partially over, Koojesse informed me that he had known many instances in which Innuits had been attacked, killed, and devoured by hungry wolves. When once so attacked, it was generally sure death to the Innuit. It was, indeed, with thankful heart that I retired to my snowy couch that night, as I thought of my narrow escape from the very midst of that hungry pack, unarmed as I was, and far away from all help save that which is ever mighty to save.

The following morning. May 15th, we were about to resume our journey, when, the wind having increased to a gale, accompanied with drift, and Koojesse being quite ill, we were obliged to hold over, and keep in the igloo all day. Our fare that day was raw seal and raw ducks. The ducks were very fat, the fat being like butter both in appearance and taste.

In the morning of Friday, the 16th, the weather was thick, and at times spitting snow. We were up at 3 a.m. intending to start early, and complete the crossing of Frobisher Bay to Kingaite coast; but the shore-ice by the island of our encampment was in such an impassable condition from ebb tide that we had to wait for the flood. At 7.30 we were under way, passing to the westward and northward for some time along the coast of Resor Island^[7] on our left, over the rough ice, and among the thousand and one islands of that part of Frobisher Bay. At 11 a.m. we arrived at White Island, which I had seen on my boat-voyage in the previous fall, and then thought very remarkable. On this occasion I landed to examine it and procure geological specimens.

Thirty minutes after meridian we arrived close to a point of Kingaite coast, whence I could see what the natives call Sharko (low land), where I had my eighteenth encampment of the boat-voyage in the fall of 1861. Having reached the point—Turn Point,^[8] as I called it—where my survey of the Kingaite coast terminated when on that voyage, I turned about and resumed the survey, passing rapidly down a beautiful channel—Cincinnati Press Channel, as I named it, in honour of the Associated Press of the Queen City—between Kingaite and Pugh Island.^[9]

At 3 p.m. while we pursued our journey down the channel, an exciting scene occurred. A polar bear, with its cub, was observed on the ice near the base of a bold high mountain. Immediately the dogs were stopped and the guns loaded. Kpojesse forgot that he was lame and sick, and prepared to join us in the hunt. I, with spy-glass in hand, watched the bear's movements, and when all was ready, the dogs were again started. They soon caught sight of the prey, and bounded forward. While drawing us with great speed, and when within 200 fathoms, the draught-line of the leader was cut, and away he flew toward the bear. Then another, and then another of the running dogs was cut loose and sent in chase, until all were free from the sledge and in pursuit.

THE BEAR-HUNT.

The bear, with her cub following, made her way over the broken ice between the main ice and the shore, direct for the mountain steep, which they at once began to ascend. One of the dogs had now neared them, and constantly attacked the cub until it became separated from its mother. Then another dog sprang at the hinder part of the old bear, which turned and made a plunge at the dog, causing both to tumble headlong down the declivity, which was so steep that I wondered how the bear could have ascended it.

The fight now became earnest, and the dog yelped with pain, as the bear's paw came heavily upon him. Presently Bruin was obliged to turn again, and, with head swinging to and fro, and roaring plaintively on hearing the cries of her cub, she reascended the mountain where it was impossible for dog or man to follow. The eleven dogs finally all took after the cub, which was part way up the mountain side, and, as one seized it, over rolled cub and dog together, and so came tumbling down. While Koojesse and Sharkey sought to get a shot at the old one, I went forward simply to see the fray between young polar and the dogs. On making my way from the main ice to the shore, the cub made a rush at me with jaws widely distended. I instantly placed myself in position, prepared to receive the threatened shock. I received young polar on the point of my spear, having directed it well toward the neck, and pierced it through. The dogs at once flew to my aid, and soon the savage beast was flat over on its back. Withdrawing the spear, a stream of hot blood immediately poured forth; and then, with heavy blows on the head, I broke in its skull, and thus killed it. I took it that my Innuit friends would rejoice on learning my success, but I soon found how mistaken I was in this idea. On showing them what I had done, they shrugged their shoulders and—said nothing. Of course I was surprised, and knew not what to make of such conduct, it being the reverse of what I had expected. It was not long before I learned the mistake I had made in killing the young bear. This I ascertained in the following way: While Koojesse and Sharkey were engaged skinning ar-tuk-ta (young polar bear), I proposed to them to go into camp where we were. They objected to this. I then told them how desirous I was to remain in that locality for a day or so. My great and earnest object was to ascend the high land close by, and connect together some of the points of my past and prospective visitation. I found that nothing whatever would induce them to stop and make encampment there. They said that the old bear would return in the night, and, smelling the blood of her young, she would be enraged to madness, and kill all of us. Furthermore, they said that

YOUNG POLAR COMING TO THE POINT.

their people always avoided killing the young of a Ninoo till the old one was dead, from the very fact that the previous death of the offspring made the mother a hundredfold more terrible than she otherwise would be. The result of this matter was no camp there or about there that night.

My companions, having completed their work of skinning the bear, buried in snow the liver and head, which Innnits never eat, nor allow their dogs to eat, if they can help it. However, one of my dogs, Barbekark, got loose from the sledge and found the liver, when the whole pack bolted away and pitched in for a share. The carcass of the bear was placed on the sledge, when (5 p.m.) we started on our way down the channel. In half an hour we arrived at open water—a tide-opening one-third of a mile long and thirty fathoms wide. Sharkey had told me about this open water while we were at the seventeenth encampment, on occasion of my proposing to strike from thence to Kingaite, and continue down the coast. Sharkey said it was altogether doubtful whether we should be able to do so, on account of the ou-kun-nier (an extended opening in the ice caused by the tides). It seems that, during the coldest weather, these open places between the numerous islands in this "part of Frobisher Bay never freeze over on account of the swiftly-running tides. However, we experienced no great trouble in making our way over an ice-belt that led past this ou-kun-nier. This space of open water abounded in seals. In the course of a few minutes Sharkey fired two shots, the last being successful, killing a fine large seal, which we soon had fast to the sledge. We now had a Ninoo and a seal—enough for a feast for both men and dogs.

When at the tide-opening we were only one mile and a half from where we had killed the bear. This distance would not satisfy my friends by several miles for making encampment, therefore, at 6 p.m. we resumed our journey. A few minutes brought us to where the channel opened out to a beautiful bay, which I named Eggleston Bay.^[10] Our course then was over a smooth field of ice. After making a distance of some six miles from where the bear was killed, and as we were making good progress homeward directly down the bay, all at once the dogs were turned by the driver sharply to the left, nearly but not quite half round, and directed toward the south termination of Pugh Island, where we made our eighteenth encampment. Before we retired for the night the sledge was stuck up on end in an ice-crack, and the guns and spears were put in order, at the head of our couch, for immediate use, if occasion should require it. As I needed an explanation of some of these movements of my Innuit companions, so my readers may require one of me. I thus give it: The reason of going to such a distance from the scene of the bear-hunt before making our encampment has already been given. The sharp turn—nearly reversing our course—was designed, as the Esquimaux explained it, for a safeguard against pursuit by the enraged old bear. If she should attempt to pursue on our sledge-track, her movements would be rapid; and, finding the track nearly in a straight line for so long a distance, she would become somewhat confident, "thinking" that the same undeviating course had been kept to the end; therefore, on her reaching the place of the sharp turn, it might be unnoticed and unscented, and she would continue her course some time longer before discovering her mistake. But, in case she should track us to our igloo (our sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth encampments were igloos or snow-houses), then the first thing she would do would be to throw down the sledge (one of many things that polar bears do not like to see standing), and thus we should be awakened, and put on our guard against the ferocious beast. But, happily, no enraged "she bear" made her appearance. The trick of the sharp turn may have saved us.

The bladder of the young Ninoo was kept hung up, at whatever place we happened to be, for three days, according to custom; and that night we had an excellent supper off my prize, the flesh appearing and tasting like veal.

On the morning of Saturday, May 17th, having first ascended the heights of the island of our encampment, and made the necessary observations for continuing my survey, we resumed our journey down the bay, passing rapidly, on our right, Cape Poillon^[11] and Newell's Sound,^[12] and at our left Pike's Island,^[13] our course being along near the Kingaite coast and direct for Cape Vanderbilt,^[14] which point we readied at 3.40 p.m. On arriving there, I found it a capital point for connecting together much of my previous work by a round of angles. Unfortunately, before I could accomplish much work in that line, a thick fog closed distant objects from view. As I did not like to leave such a favourable point without additional sights, I proposed to my company to remain there till the next day. To this Koojesse, who was quite ill and peevish, obstinately objected. I therefore concluded to strike across the bay at once for the place of tenth encampment, our starting-point on this flying trip, which we had left on the 8th instant. At 5.17 p.m. we left Cape Vanderbilt, purposing to travel all night. Our course was almost in line with Cape Hill,^[15] which is the south termination of Chase Island.^[16]

Never shall I forget that night. It was very cold, and we sat on the sledge well clothed in furs, while the dogs flew merrily and at their most rapid rate. Occupying a place in the rear of all the rest, where all was clear for action, with the box chronometer under my eye, I threw the log every ten minutes, holding the reel up in my right hand.^[17] We all

HALL AND HIS EXPEDITION CROSSING FROBISHER BAY.

felt the cold severely, and had recourse to various contrivances to keep some warmth in our limbs. No doubt I presented rather a grotesque appearance as I sat with native stockings on my hands now and then instead of outside mittens. Toward midnight we felt the want of shelter and rest; but, in my own case, all sense of discomfort was banished by the beauty which Nature placed before me. The grandeur of Kingaite's grotto mountains that we were leaving behind us, with their contrasts of light and shade, as viewed in the night, and watched as light increased with advancing day, tilled my soul with inexpressible delight. It was like beholding a mighty city of cathedrals, monuments, palaces, and castles overthrown by an earthquake, the ruins resting amid mountain drifts of snow.

At 3 a.m. of the 18th, when near the islands which diversify Frobisher Bay in the locality between M'Lean Island and Chase Island, the sun began to peer out from behind the dark clouds, when we stopped the dogs, threw ourselves flat on the bare snow, and slept soundly for one hour and thirty-five minutes.

At 8 a.m. we arrived at the eighteenth encampment (which was the same as the tenth), whence we had started on the 8th instant, making an absence while on this journey of just ten days. The number of miles travelled was 176 nautical, or 203 English miles, this distance having been made in exactly fifty-four hours and thirty-one minutes travelling time.

A brief extract from my notes, written after my return from this journey, reads as follows:—

"Taking my departure from the tenth encampment on May 8, 1862, and sledging 176 miles (nautical), now, on my return to same place, my 'dead reckoning'—which has been kept independent of all the astronomical observations taken during the trip—makes the same place differ in latitude 283/100 miles, and in longitude less than half a geographical mile, an approximation I little expected to make."

I found Henry very sick, and it was necessary that I should get him to the vessel as soon as possible. Tunutderlien and Jennie were well, the latter as evil-disposed as ever. Sharkey, however, had to receive sad news. By his former wife he had a child, which had been given in care to another Innuit. This child would occasionally, by various acts such as are common to young children, annoy its guardian, who accordingly conveyed it to the top of a lonely and rocky mountain, sewed it up in a seal-skin, and threw it down a deep cleft, leaving it there to be frozen to death, and there its little corpse was afterwards discovered by some Innuits.

We found plenty of food among the people here, and blubber, the commercial value of which would have been some hundreds of dollars, and yet all soon to be wasted. One ookgook which they had captured must have weighed quite 1,500 pounds, and its blubber was two inches thick.

The following day. May 19th, finding that Koojesse was too sick to accompany me farther, and that Sharkey had to remain with his wife, I made arrangements with the Innuit "Bill," who agreed to take Henry and myself, with my dogs, to Oopungnewing. After farewells with my Innuit friends, away we went, all six of us (Bill would have his wife and two children along too), down the bay; but in the evening a heavy snow-storm came on, and, though we tried to breast it for some time, we were at length obliged to give in, and encamp, after midnight, on Clarke's Island, which is between Jones's Cape and Chapel's Point.

The next morning, the 20th, we again proceeded, the travelling, in consequence of rough ice, being very bad, and, on arriving at a point near Twerpukjua, we were obliged to make our course over a narrow neck of land, called the Pass of Ee-too-nop-pin, which leads directly to the Countess of Warwick's Sound. The channel between Niountelik and Oopungnewing was also much broken up, and it was only with great difficulty we reached the latter-named place in the afternoon. Here I found numerous Innuit families, and also heard that Captain B—— had visited the place, but had gone down to Cape True fifteen days before. "Bill," my sledge-driver, was so stricken with snow-blindness that I had to make arrangements with Innuit "Charley" to cary me back to the ship. This was speedily effected, and in an hour's time we again started.

We proceeded rapidly across the sound to Lincoln Bay, and thence, taking Bayard Taylor Pass, arrived at Field Bay. On the way quite an accident occurred. While on the descent of the land pass, Field Bay side, the sledge capsized and broke down, and one of the runners split from stem to stern.

At first we thought that it was a complete wreck, and that nothing could be done except to walk the remaining distance; but "Charley" at once proceeded to unload the sledge and make repairs. With a seal-knife he bored three holes through the two-inch plank runner, bound the shattered parts together, made all secure, reloaded the sledge, and then, when we had taken something to eat and drink, declared that all was once more ready to proceed. The dexterity with which "Charley" did this was remarkable. In fifty minutes from the time the sledge was broken he had it all in order again.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning of Tuesday, May 21st, when we arrived at the ship, where I found on board only the steward and "Fluker.'

400

WALRUS SKULL AND TUSKS.

1. Named after the late Judge John M'Lean. It is an island in the midst of Frobisher Bay, near to and due west of Gabriel's Island.
2. Our tenth encampment was near the southern extreme of M'Lean Island, and was in lat. 62° 5′2 N. long. 66° 28′ W.
3. Named after Dudley Field, of New York City.
4. Named after Augustus H. Ward, of New York City.
5. Named after the wife of Augustus H. Ward. The head or termination is in lat. 63° 44′ N. long. 67° 48′ W. Vide Chart.
6. The land between Ward's Inlet and the main Bay of Frobisher I thus named after Captain A. B. Becher, R.N. of London, England. See Chart.
7. Named after William Resor, of Cincinnati, Ohio. The centre of this island is in lat. 63° 16′ N. long. 67° 55′ W.
8. Turn Point is in lat. 63° 19′ N. long. 68° 09′ W.
9. Named after George E. Pugh, of Cincinnati, Ohio. This island is ten miles long, the centre being in lat. 63° 16′ N. long. 68° W.
10. Named after Benjamin Eggleston, of Cincinnati, Ohio. The centre of this bay is in lat. 63° 13′ N. long. 68° W. See Chart.
11. Named after Cornelius C. and Richard Poillon, of New York. This cape is in lat. 63° 11′ N. long. 67° 49′ W.
12. Named after Thomas W. Newell, of Cincinnati, Ohio. The north cape of this sound is Cape Poillon, the south cape Capo Vanderbilt.
13. Named after the house of Benjamin Pike and Sons, of New York. The centre of this island is in lat. 63° 13′ N. long. 67° 44′ W.
14. Named after Cornelius Vanderbilt, of New York. This cape is in lat. 63° 07′ 30″ N. long. 67° 34′ W. See Chart.
15. Named after George H. Hill, of Cincinnati, Ohio. This cape is in lat, 62° 54′ N. long. 66° 37′ W.
16. Named after Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio. It is one of the first group in middle of Frobisher Bay. The centre of this island is in lat. 62° 68′ N. long, 66° 45′ W.
17. See accompanying engraving, and also type on larger scale of sledge-log, line and reel, on page 300, drawn to one sixth of the size of the original. This contrivance was made while encamped on the ice in the middle of Frobisher Bay (ninth encampment). The reel was wood, the line a codfish line, the log a relic of the wrecked Rescue—a ring-bolt, weighing just two pounds, which answered admirably the purpose for which I desired it.