Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 2/Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
The "George Henry" free from her icy Prison—Dog "Smile" capturing a Seal—Fresh Fish caught—A Walrus-attack on the boat—Islands in Frobisher Bay—Innuit Diseases—Consumption—Return trip through Lupton Channel—All the Ice disappeared—Great Heat—Travelling over broken Ice—Dangerous Leaps—The "Rescue's" Ghost—Superstition of Sailors—Ice-floes pressing on the Ship—Mate Rogers—Incidents of his Trip up the Bay—Author's Plans for exploring—Leaves the Ship—Takes up his abode with the Natives—The "George Henry" departs—Author's Visit to the "Rescue's" Hull—Arctic Robins—Unexpected Return of the Ship—Opening for Missionary Enterprise—Pemmican, best Mode of preparing it—Nice Distinction as to what is Work—The Fashions—Suzhi the heaviest Innuit.
On Wednesday morning, the 17th of July, 1861, we were delighted to find that our ship had broken from her eight months' imprisonment during the past night, and now swung to her chains in the tidal waters of Rescue Harbour. But it was only in a pool she was free. Ice still intervened between our anchorage and the main bay, and we could do nothing but wait yet longer with whatever patience we could command. I myself was getting quite impatient. Time was passing on, and no chance yet offered for my going away on one or other of my intended explorations. What could I do? I was, at times, as if crazy; and only a walk on some island, where I could examine and survey, or a visit to my Innuit friends, helped to soothe me. But the reader will feel little interest in all this; I will therefore pass on to some other incidents of my voyage.
Ebierbing had been out one day with dogs and sledge where the ice was still firm, when suddenly a seal was noticed ahead. In an instant the dogs were off toward the prey, drawing the sledge after them at a marvellous rate. The seal for a moment acted as if frightened, and kept on the ice a second or two too long, for just as he plunged, "Smile," the noblest-looking, best leader, seal, and bear dog I ever saw, caught him by the tail and flippers. The seal struggled violently, and so did dog Smile, making the sledge to caper about merrily; but in a moment more the other dogs laid hold, and aided in dragging the seal out of his hole on to the ice, when Smile took it wholly in charge. The prize was secured this time wholly by the dogs.
DOG "SMILE" CAPTURES A SEAL.
On the 18th we had an excellent supper of fresh fish, caught by the Innuits with spears and hooks among the ice cracks; and almost daily something fresh was added to our food.
At this time most of the ship's crew were again at the whaling dépôt, cruising in every direction for whales. Indeed, Mate Rogers and some of the men had been left there to keep a look-out when the captain came away, to see about getting the vessel round, and frequent communication had, as usual, been maintained.
On the 23d it was necessary to send a supply of sundries to the company there, and a boat's crew were despatched, I accompanying them.
As the ice still hung together between the ship and open water in the bay, the boat was lashed upon a sledge drawn by dogs, my favourite Barbekark being one, and away we started, arriving at the sea-edge of the ice in about two hours' time. There we launched the boat, and were soon bounding along upon the sparkling waves toward Lupton Channel. Many seals were seen bobbing their heads above water; and, as we entered among the islands within the channel, ducks were to be seen in every direction, some flying, some in the water, and some on the islands. They were in such numbers that, when above us, they almost darkened the air. Nearly all were king ducks (males), their mates being engaged in domestic affairs at home—sitting—while the "lords of the house" were gathering food for them.
In passing through the channel and Bear Sound the tide was favourable, and swept us along with great rapidity. Occasionally we were in a mill-race of waters, and it required much care to navigate the boat.
At a quarter past 4 p.m. we reached the whaling dépôt, distant about thirty miles, having been eleven hours coming from the ship.
We found the officers and men all well and in good condition. They had lived on ducks, duck eggs, seal, walrus, and venison, which they had in abundance, but they were much disheartened at their poor success in whaling. Not a whale had been caught since the past fall. Walrus in any numbers could be obtained, and many had been secured for their skins and tusks; but the main object of the voyage had as yet been a failure.
With reference to the walrus, Mr. Rogers told me that one day, when out cruising for whales, he went, with two boats and crews, half way across Frobisher Bay, and then came to an iceberg one hundred feet above the sea, and, mounting it, with a spy-glass, took a look all around. Whales there were none; but walrus—"Why," to use his figurative but expressive words, "there were millions out on the pieces of ice, drifting with the tide—walrus in every direction—millions on millions."
On their way back, Mr. Lamb, in charge of the second boat, had a fight with some walrus in the following manner. Approaching a piece of ice on which some of these creatures were basking, he attacked one of them, whereupon all the rest immediately rushed toward the boat, and vigorously set upon him and his crew. For a time it seemed necessary to fly for safety; but all hands resisted the attack, and would have got off very well, but that one of the walrus herd pierced the boat's side with his tusks, and made the invaders retreat to repair damages. Mr. Lamb had to drag his boat upon an ice-floe near by, and stuff in oakum to stop a serious leak thus caused. Finally he succeeded, though with some difficulty, in getting back, and thus ended his encounter with a shoal of walrus.
With reference to Frobisher Bay, I may here mention that, in taking a look with my glass from "Flag-staff Hill," adjoining this whaling dépôt, and sweeping around from the southeast extreme of Meta Incognita toward the land I recently visited (the dreaded land), I was astonished to see, just on the horizon, what appeared to be islands stretching nearly across. One of the Innuits (Sharkey) told me that he had been to those islands, and that his people sometimes make a passage across the entrance of the bay by starting on the Kingaite side, and then striking from one island to the other, by way of Too-jar-choo-ar (Resolution Island), until able to make the distance (avoiding the dreaded district) to the place where we then were—Cape True. Years ago reindeer were very numerous on those islands, but at last the moss failed and they all died. Their horns and bones are to be found scattered all over the place. Polar bears are plentiful there.
I was sorry to find several of my Innuit friends at this place very sick from the complaint that was introduced to their race when first brought into contact with civilization, viz. consumption. Sharkey's wife was rapidly declining, Her bleeding at the lungs had left her white as the driven snow, and poor as fleshless bones could be.
I will here relate an anecdote, which will serve to show how fond some of the Innuits are of sweets, as well as of fat or blubber.
Mr. Rogers was carrying along over the rocks a jug of "lasas-ses," as the Innuits pronounce molasses. All at once the bottom of the jug dropped out, and the contents splashed down, his hand flying up as if an electric shock from a strongly, charged battery had been given him. Quick as it was noised about, the spot sweetened over with the "lasasses" was not unlike a sugar hogshead near a bee-hive on a warm sunny day. The Innuits, men, women, and children, crowded round t to lick up the sweet mixture!
After arranging all matters that Captain B had asked my attention to, and enjoying a good rest in one of the officers' tents, we started on our way back to the ship, taking with us several saddles of venison, half a dozen brace of ducks, and other good things for those on board.
When about half way through Bear Sound, the commotion and roar of the waters were such as no person who has not witnessed the like could form an adequate idea of. Small icebergs were swept along, roundabout, this way and that way, at a speed of full eight knots an hour. On one side piles of ice were carried swiftly to the south, and on the other side ice was sweeping in the contrary direction. The turmoil and confusion seemed almost demoniac. At length the surging ceased for a while, and then it began again, everything to appearance being in readiness for a race up toward Lupton Channel. And so it continued, obliging us to ply the long steering-oar briskly to keep the boat in its course, as we were borne along with the rapid tide.
When we got out of the channel a fresh breeze helped us onward until we came near "French Head," when it failed. Here all the ice had disappeared and gone down the bay, thus, at last, carrying to the great sea the mortal remains of poor John Brown, there soon depositing them to rest quietly beneath the waters that link together people of all nations of the earth. He now lies buried in the world's great grave-yard. Nature, however, marks the spot where he must have fought valiantly the last battle of life. The bluff stands out boldly to view whenever any one may be navigating in or near Field Bay. "French Head" is a monument as enduring as the everlasting mountains.
FRENCH HEAD.
At 4 p.m. we reached the ice-floe, and there re-lashed the boat upon a sledge sent forward ready for our arrival. The ice was very much worse than it had been the previous morning, and we fell through it in many places. Finally we reached the ship at 8 p.m. greatly fatigued with the laborious exertions we had made.
At this time the heat was almost overpowering. On the 25th of July, at 2 p.m. the mercury stood at 95° in the sun, and no work could be done except when we were clad in the lightest garments. What a contrast to the period only a few weeks past, when my reindeer furs were needed.
The day after my return to the ship I visited the tupics on shore, and took sundry articles of my apparel for Tookoolito and the other women to put in order for me, as they generally did. On the way I had far more difficulty than I anticipated. Two of the sailors had brought me in a boat as far as the broken ice would permit, and then I proceeded toward the shore by moving from one piece of ice to another. But it soon became evident that there was much dangerous work ahead. The ice around the shores and about the harbour and bay was now disappearing like dew before the morning sun. I was indeed surprised to find the changes that had taken place within one day. Several wide chasms between boulders of shore-ice had to be crossed, and my leaps were often made with more or less danger of getting a downfall into the briny deep. Now and then I was obliged to throw my pack in advance, and then go back for a good run, so as to make my flying leap sure to carry me over the yawning gulf. For a full hour did I work thus to accomplish a distance of perhaps twenty rods. Now I would be upon a small piece of ice, pushing along as though it were a boat. Soon as I reached another piece I would have to run on to it; thence to another, leaping cracks and channels that would certainly have made my hair stand on end at an earlier period of my life. At length I reached the last piece between myself and the shore. It was divided from the beach by a breach of some considerable distance; but there was no alternative; leap it I must. Therefore I first threw my pack ashore, which went into a pool of water on the rocks, and then, with a good run, made a great spring, which fortunately just carried me on to terra firma.
Many of these occurrences are common enough in the life of an arctic voyager; but I mention this one as a passing incident, and to show what was the state of the ice around our ship at the time we were all so desirous of moving her.
In the evening I got on board again without much difficulty, as a boat came for me to firm ice, which I had gained.
The following morning, July 27th, all the ice about the vessel had nearly gone, though there was still some heavy pieces intervening between us and the outer bay. But what especially causes me to remember this day was the sudden disappearance of the wrecked Rescue. On looking toward Cooper's Island, where her hull had remained for so many months, we were surprised to find it gone. The waters had floated it away, and, for a moment, we fancied nothing more of the famous schooner would again be seen, unless away toward or on the great sea. But shortly afterward, on visiting Whale Island, close by, we saw that the Rescue had drifted off with the tide, and had got into the narrow channel of open water that then surrounded the island. "The Rescue" says my journal, "seems yet to live; she has navigated herself completely around Cooper's Island since early this morning. She sweeps around slowly and—I was about to say—prettily."
The Rescue was doomed to wander about "like a ghost"—as some of the men said—for days. By the alternate ebb and flow of the tide, she was carried seaward, to be brought back to her old place, then to be carried out again. Then back again she came, dancing from place to place, like the ever-changing ice-sconces surrounding her. She made the circuit of another island south-east of Cooper's, and again came near to us; and so in and out, dancing here and moving there, the poor Rescue played about us, until at length her very presence seemed to cause a superstitious dread. This was especially so when another day, and yet another, passed on, and still our vessel could not be moved away.
As an illustration of this superstitious feeling among the seamen, it may be mentioned that the want of success attending the George Henry in whaling was attributed to the circumstance of bringing the Rescue with them as a tender. Some said she had never been anything but a drawback since first built, and that she had nearly caused the loss of numbers of lives; now she seemed to hang about them as an omen of ill luck—as a ghost!
At 8 p.m. of the 27th of July the breeze freshened up strongly from W. and W.N.W. Soon the ice yet in the vicinity of the vessel began to move, and in heavy patches came toward the ship. All the crew had retired to rest, except the captain and myself, but the men were quickly called up to ward off the threatened danger. On came the ice, directly toward the ship. A portion struck the cable, and strained it till the metal tinkled like steel. Fortunately, a projecting point of Cooper's Island partly arrested the entire floe of ice, and thus broke the shock; yet the strain upon the ship's cable was intense. Men were ordered to get
THE GHOST OF THE "RESCUE."
over the bow on to the floe with chisels and other implements, to cut away that portion pressing upon the chains, which was done after some hard work. But we fully believed the ship was dragging her anchor, and at this precise moment, lo! the immortal Rescue was seen, like the ghost in Hamlet, emerging from the mist, and moving on from near Cooper's Island straight to the very spot where she had been at anchor when overtaken by the hurricane which had wrecked her. The instant she was discovered, an exclamation burst from the crew that the very acme of bad-luck seemed to have reached them! They never could do anything until that curse was out of sight! Indeed, some of the expressions used about her were much stronger, and certainly, to others less interested in the Rescue than myself, her appearance so often, and apparently in such mystic form, was enough to cause annoyance, if not actual superstitious dread.
All through that night great vigilance was needed in guarding the vessel, for the ice pressed tremendously upon her, and in the morning men were again at work cutting the floe. Finally they succeeded in separating a part that strained most upon the cable, and thus we escaped the greatest danger.
On July 28th, in the morning, I went over to Whale Island and brought Tookoolito on board, to continue the work begun some time previous of getting up a vocabulary of the Innuit of these regions for collation with Parry's, compiled on his second voyage up Hudson's Straits. Tookoolito was very serviceable in this. She gave me valuable explanations of words, and also expeditiously interpreted into her own tongue portions of the "Progressive Reader" which I had previously presented to her.
In reference to this really important matter, the following extract from my journal at the time may be here brought forward. I said:—
"Oh that such a noble Christianizing work was begun here as is now established in Greenland! What a valuable aid for it could be found in Tookoolito! Will not some society, some people of civilization, see to this matter ere this noble race pass away? ... It seems to me that the days of the Innuits are numbered. There are very few of them now. Fifty years may find them all passed away, without leaving one to tell that such a people ever lived."
At this time the men that had remained at the whaling dépôt were summoned on board the ship, and on the evening of the 28th it was reported that some of them were coming. I went on deck, and asked one of the sailors, whom we called "Spikes," who was then on watch, where they were. He replied. He didn't exactly know, but thought they might be that way—pointing to an island southeast of us—for he heard voices in that direction. I listened, and then gave a shout. But my first idea was that Spikes had been mistaken, as the echoes of Innuit voices on Whale Island were often heard. Soon, however, I was satisfied. An answering shout from white men came back to mine. A boat, therefore, was soon manned by Smith, myself. Spikes, Bill, and young Smith, and away we went in the direction whence the sound had come.
We made a quick passage down the harbour as far as open water permitted; then we struck into broken ice, where our progress became slower. But, by the good steering of the elder Smith, we still pushed on, oftener using the ice for our oars to rest against than water. We passed the "Ghost," which was now floating with the tide; and her bow—or so much of it as was above water—became a resisting medium on which the starboard oars of our boat found hold in several heavy pulls.
Presently we came to a desolate island, and on it we found Morgan, Bailey, Keeney, and Ebierbing, who had come from a point some three miles below, and made their way there by trudging over ice, ferrying across spaces of water on drifting ice, wading, &c. This party was but a small portion of the one that left the whaling dépôt in the morning for the ship. The remainder had stopped for the night at a point below, where, owing to the ice, the boats they had with them could not be taken farther. Morgan and his company, however, felt determined to try and reach the vessel that night, but had run great risks in so doing. The ice between the islands below was all in a disruptured state, and only by great daring did they succeed in getting to the place where we found them. In making across several channels their only way was to find a fragment of floating ice, place themselves upon it, and paddle over by a small piece of board which they found. We succeeded in getting this party to the vessel; and, finally, Mates Rogers, Gardiner, and Lamb, each with his boat and crew, also arrived, though not without great difficulty on account of the ice which they encountered on their way. And thus the whole ship's company were safe on board.
The information given me by Mr. Rogers I found very interesting. It was as follows:
On the day I left the whaling dépôt, Rogers—who, with an Innuit crew, had gone up Frobisher Bay—arrived at the native settlement beyond Evictoon. Here they found Sampson, Ook-goo-al-loo, their families, and the old lady Innuits, whom I met the previous April, as mentioned page 289, vol. i. For some time Rogers did not recognise Sampson, though well acquainted with him, for he was completely changed in appearance, and not much more than a mere skeleton. He was informed that, some weeks before, a little pimple made its appearance near Sampson's left breast. It received a scratch. Inflammation followed, and this had increased so much that his very vitals were being eaten out. The sight was horrible! No Innuit of Rogers's crew dared behold it. Nothing was done, or could then be done, to alleviate Sampson's distress or arrest the progress of his disease, which was evidently, as Rogers thought, a cancer. It was neglected, and the dirt, tuktoo hair, &c. that were allowed to accumulate within it, irritated the sore and hastened its progress.
Ookgooalloo was also confined to his tupic, unable to sit up, and spitting blood. And the other Innuits seemed to be all starving, only one man being in a condition to go out and hunt for food. On the following morning Rogers started for an island a little farther up, and arrived there at 11 a.m. While there he visited a place in which, he was informed by the natives, a good harbour could be found; and he saw that such was the case for small vessels, but not for the George Henry, as only eight feet water, and this over black sandy bottom, could be found. He remained an hour there, and then struck a course direct down the bay for the whaling dépôt. The wind, however, came against him with so great force that he was obliged to make for Sampson's settlement, and remain there for that night. Next morning he again set out, and on the way his Innuit crew killed many ducks, which they ate raw, Rogers was offered some, but he said to me, "I could not go that." He arrived at the whaling dépôt, at Cape True, about 11 p.m. on the 26th, and finally returned to the ship as already stated.
The return of the George Henry's crew on board, and the breaking up of the ice, were the signal for the ship's departure to another place, to try anew the chances of whaling; but with all relating to such work, except where it is connected with my own personal labours, I have nothing to do. My task was that of research, exploration, and discovery, and not to aid in the capture of whales, albeit that, in itself, was an exciting and adventurous occupation. I had come to the North for another and, to me, a more glorious purpose. When, therefore, the time approached for the vessel to move away, the hour had also come for me to leave her and take up my abode with the natives, as I had originally proposed. What my plans and intentions were, as noted and recorded at the time, I will now proceed to show.
It was now the 28th of July, 1861. In two or three days the vessel was to leave Rescue Harbour to cruise for whales. I intended, therefore, to make a boat voyage to explore the so-called "Frobisher Strait," which had been proved to me, by Innuit testimony,[1] in the fall of 1860, while in Rescue Harbour, to be a bay. The course I purposed to pursue was down and across Field Bay to Lupton Channel and Bear Sound, and thence along the northern coast of the misnamed "strait" to its termination, and thence, if possible, down Kingaite (Meta Incognita) side; then crossing over to "North Foreland," and returning to Field Bay by way of the south side of the "dreaded land," and thence through Bear Sound and Lupton Channel. The boat which I now had was not as good by any means as I should have wished, but I was obliged to make it answer. My crew were to be all Innuits. I had arranged for Ebierbing and Tookoolito, Koodloo and Jennie his wife, and probably Jennie, sister of Ebierbing, to be of the party, with Suzhi also, who was likely to be exceedingly useful, in consequence of her great strength, notwithstanding her weight, which was not less than 200 pounds. I expected to be gone two months, at the end of which time, if the vessel should still be hereabouts, I would again rejoin her to return to the States. I earnestly hoped to succeed in accomplishing all this. God willing, I was resolved it should be done.
The vessel was expected to sail on the 30th. I therefore gathered up some of the things I designed taking with me on my boat voyage, and carried them on shore to Ebierbing's tupic.
On Tuesday, the 30th, a.m. preparations were made to weigh anchor. The time had come for me to leave. I placed such other things as I required in the old, rotten, leaky, and ice-beaten whale-boat with which I was to make my voyage to the head of Frobisher Bay. I also compared my chronometer with the George Henry's; my two assistants, Jennie and little Ookoodlear, were in the boat to pull me on shore, and now nothing remained but to take leave of captain, officers, and crew.
It was done. The farewell was uttered. The George Henry was under sail, and I set out on my way to Whale Island, to commence life in earnest among the Esquimaux. I took up my abode in the tupic of Ebierbing and Tookoolito, other natives, relatives of theirs, being with us and near by.
As I walked about—the only white man among them—my position seemed, and in reality was, strange. At last alone; the ship gone; all of my own people, my own blood, my own language, departed; and now, by myself, to do whatever work I could. Well, this was what I designed. I would not despond. It was good. Freedom dwells in the North— freedom to live as one pleases, act as one pleases, and go where and when one pleases; so I determined to look brightly forward, placing all my dependence on God.
I watched the ship's progress. She got along but slowly. There was a light wind from the southeast against her. It was tack, tack, all the day long. Every now and then I ascended a hill on the island to look at her. It was past meridian before she got down as low as Parker's Bay.[2] By evening she had reached French Head, but late in the p.m. had drifted back, evidently with the tide, to Parker's Bay. White clouds now capped the high land about there, which was the precursor of a storm.
During the day, Sharkey, E-e-u-ar-ping (the latter the youngest son of Artarkparu), and a boat's crew of those Innuits remaining at Rescue Harbour, started off to French Head. Koodloo also, in my boat, with Suzhi and Ookoodlear, with the children, went among the islands ducking, but obtained only two ducks. Wishing to manufacture some balls of the lead which I had with me for my rifle and Koodloo's gun, the thought came into my head that the hull of the Rescue had still some hard coal in her, and that, by taking advantage of the low tide, I could obtain it; therefore I and Koodloo, with Suzhi, went in the boat to the "ghost." The tide was still ebbing when we got alongside, but, on examination, it was found that the water inside of her was too deep to fish for coal. We therefore started elsewhere to fish for something else, or try for seal. We drew up to the point of an island to gratify the Innuits in killing some little birds about the size of our robins at home, but here called by the natives sik-yar-ung. They were too small game for the expense of powder, therefore Koodloo tried to kill them by throwing stones, but failed, though they were by no means shy. We then rowed off to look for seals. Presently we saw one. My rifle was instantly raised, but just as I pulled the trigger a little boy in the boat lifted himself up and unsettled my aim. The seal went off, much to our vexation, as we had nothing on shore to eat except the two ducks. We again saw the seal, but were unable to kill it; therefore we returned to the "ghost," and this time were able to enter her hull. After some trouble I succeeded in procuring about two and a half buckets of hard coal, and having had an old stove placed in my boat when I left the ship to leave on Whale Island, the present acquisition made it very serviceable.
In the evening Sharkey and ten more Innuits returned without any success in procuring food. Thus we had a large company now here, and nothing to eat except the two ducks. True, I had a barrel of sea-bread, about twenty pounds of salt pork, a ninety-pound can of pemmican, ten pounds of coffee, two gallons of molasses, one pound of tea, and half a pound of pepper, all of which, excepting the pemmican, I procured at the ship by exchange. But this stock was for my Frobisher Bay expedition, not for consumption here. Unfortunately, my right-hand man Ebierbing was now very sick, but I was in hopes I should bring him round again in two or three days. I had taken from the vessel my case of medicines, and with these I hoped to do him some good. I took one more look at the ship. There she was, still endeavouring to get out of the bay, but with no wind to help her. I thought she would, perhaps, be out of sight before the morning. Farewell, then, I said in my heart, gallant ship, and may good luck attend you. Good-night to all. I then retired to my Innuit bed, among my honest, kind-hearted Innuit friends.
On Wednesday, July 31st, hardly awake, and still on my sleeping-couch, I heard an exclamation of surprise from Tookoolito, who had gone outside the tupic. The wind was blowing a gale, with rain. Tookoolito's cry was, "Ship coming back!" Up I got, and, on rushing to the skin doorway, true enough, there was the George Henry nearly up the bay. I watched her. She advanced still higher up, and presently dropped anchor northwest of us, some two or three miles off. The return of the George Henry was wise, for the gale had become furious, and, had she continued on, it might have driven her on shore lower down the bay. Once more, then, the ship and her company were near me. Little had I expected this when looking at her the evening before.
I may here as well relate something very curious, which I have recorded under this date as having occurred during the previous night. Ebierbing was very ill, and both his wife and his aunt were alarmed. The latter went out at midnight, and brought in Jennie, wife of Koodloo, who is a female angeko, to practise on the sufferer. She took her position at once, sitting, Innuit fashion, in a corner of the tupic, facing from us, and proceeded with her incantations, while deep seriousness fell on all around. As she went on, ejaculatory expressions of approbation were occasionally uttered by the persons present, as also by the patient. Presently Ebierbing became more calm, his pains seemed to decrease, and finally he fell asleep, and actually slept well! This is strange, most "passing strange;" yet it is a fact that the ankooting does seemingly benefit the patient, acting as a charm. The mind being diverted from all thought of the clay house to something above which the soul aspires to reach, makes one forgetful that there is anything like pain in his or her system.
This people, knowing that I did not make fun of them or taunt them for believing as they do, had confidence in me, therefore I was a privileged one in their midst when ankooting was going on. It is against their customs to have any but the family present, but hitherto I have always had access to their meetings.
Let Christians plant a colony among the western Innuits, as has been done in Greenland, and in time this people will become converts to Christianity, for that is the only true religion; and the truth, when properly presented to honest minds, will be received with open hearts.
Jennie is not only a good angeko professionally, but also of pleasing features, and would pass for handsome with many judges of beauty.
On the 1st of August the weather still continued bad, with rain and mist. I was obliged to open my case of pemmican, and in doing so, found under the top a card, incased in tin, reading thus: "George Schlee, Cincinnati, Ohio. Farewell!" Though I am unacquainted with the person whom this name represents, yet this told me that some one in the employ of H. W. Stephenson, of Cincinnati—the maker and sealer up of my pemmican cans—had kind thoughts and good wishes for me, though a stranger to him. "Farewell" is a word of rich import from well-known friends, but from a stranger, whose soul may be beating in unison for the same noble cause to which one devotes his life, the word becomes almost sacred to the life and heart of the adventurer.
The next day Ebierbing still continued very sick. Several of the natives took a boat and went up to the ship; and I heard that she was to remain in the bay, seeking a secure harbour higher up. Later in the day I saw her under sail, but the fog soon closed her from my view.
An extract from my journal of this date (Friday, August 2d) runs thus:—
"This morning for breakfast cold rock pemmican. It goes better this way than when made into soup. The two families already mentioned as members of the expedition trip I purpose to make seemed to like it. A very little of this solid, rich food satisfies one's appetite. This article is eaten, not because it tastes good, for it does not, but to live. It is almost like eating tallow candles. One must have a sharp appetite to eat pemmican in the usual way it is prepared. In the manufacture of mine I used the best of beef and beef suet in the place of what is generally used, to wit, beef and hog's fat. The composition consists of an equal weight of beef (dried and granulated) and beef suet, which are incorporated while the latter is hot, and then put up in tin cans and hermetically sealed. Thus made and put up, it will keep good for years. One pound of my pemmican is equivalent to two and a half pounds of fresh beef-steak. Four pounds of fresh beef, on being dried, is reduced to a pound."
At 2.30 p.m. I went up to make my call on Captain B in his new harbour, two and a half miles off, taking with me Koodloo and other Innuits as my boat's crew. We soon arrived, and after the first greeting between us, I mentioned my desire to take Koojesse with me instead of Ebierbing, who was too sick to go on my Frobisher Bay trip. The arrangement was made, so far as concerned Captain B (he having pre-engaged Koojesse's services), and, after a short stay on board, I departed.
There was some difficulty in getting back to my Innuit home, owing to both wind and tide being against me, and, when the island was reached, my boat could not be hauled up on account of low water. I was therefore obliged to keep on the watch nearly all night, to guard against the danger of losing her.
The night was a stormy one; the rain, at times, descending in torrents, and the wind blowing furiously. Every now and then I enveloped myself in an oil-suit, and went down to watch the condition of the boat. The tide would soon be up so far as to enable us to draw her on the beach; so, thinking that all was right, I laid myself down to rest.
About 2 a.m. of the 3d, however, I was aroused by invalid Ebierbing, who said that, from the noise, the sea was beating on shore. Immediately I went down to the boat, and, finding it in a precarious condition, called up all the natives, and with their aid at once had her dragged above reach of the sea. This done, I again retired to my couch, and slept soundly till the musical voice of Angeko Jennie once more aroused me. Looking round, I saw she was renewing her professional practice over her patient. Tookoolito and Suzhi were seriously, I may say solemnly engaged in the exercises, enthusiastically making their responses to Jennie's ejaculations. The effect upon the suffering patient, Ebierbing, was, as before, quite beneficial.
On Sunday, the 4th of August, while in the tupic, I learned something that surprised me. On the previous day myself and some Innuits had gone ducking and sealing without any success. Now I was told that our ill luck was on account of our working during Ebierbing's sickness, as all of the natives, including intelligent Tookoolito, sincerely believe. They consider that it is wrong to work when one of their number is sick, and especially to work on skins that are intended to keep out water; for instance, it is wrong to work making kum-ings (outside or water-proof boots) and covering for boats.
The way I happened to find this out was as follows: I had arranged for Koodloo to make a sealskin covering for Ebierbing's kia, and to put it on. This morning, as nothing else could be done on account of the bad weather, I asked Tookoolito if Koodloo could not proceed with it. To my astonishment, she replied that "Innuits could not do such work at the present time." Her answer seemed to me so strange that I made farther inquiries of her, when she told me that "if they worked on the skins for the kia, Ebierbing would never get well; he would die. The 'first Innuits' adhered to this custom, and they must too. All their people believe this, and could not help it. Many Innuits had died because of the working on skins for kias and kum-ings while one of their number about them was sick at the time." She added, "The reason why Koodloo could not shoot anything yesterday, though close by some ducks, was because wrong was done in working while Ebierbing lay sick."
"But," said I to Tookoolito, as I was engaged chafing Ebierbing's side and back, and applying liniment, "what are you doing now but working?"
She replied, holding up her hands full of needles that were flying swifty in knitting, "This is not work."
Her answer nearly made me laugh aloud; but I repressed the feeling, and quietly accepted her definition of what was or was not work. I was also told that during Ebierbing's sickness the angeko must do no work on any account.
We were now living on pemmican and coffee. I dealt out enough bread for Ebierbing, as he was sick, but there was no supply for any of us yet. Sunday night was a stormy one, with the wind from the northeast blowing almost a gale. Everything was in a wet state, outside and in, except bedding and clothing. A flood of water occupied half of the tupic.
It would astonish most people at home to see how comfortably I lived with the Innuits, like one of themselves. While I jotted down notes, or more fully wrote out notes previously made, Suzhi chanted some Innuit tune, and Ebierbing and Tookoolito enjoyed what among civilized white folks would be a "tea-table chat." We lived also, at times, on pemmican and kelp, a sea-weed gathered by the Innuits when the tide is out. These people are not exclusively flesh-eaters, for in the summer-time they occasionally gather and eat a few berries and leaves of stunted wild plants that grow sparsely in these regions. Both summer and winter they collect kelp, and eat it, but only as a sort of luxury, except in cases of great scarcity of food, and then they fall back upon this resource. I have acquired a taste for this sea-weed, and eat it as they do, raw or boiled, in which latter state it is more tender.
The stormy weather continued some days, and no work could be done. On Tuesday, August 6th, the wind blew a gale, with rain. On Wednesday we had a little better weather, and I went over to the ship again to see Captain B. I hoped to set out on my trip up Frobisher Bay within a day or two. On Wednesday evening, during ebb tide, the "ghost" of the Rescue drifted out of the harbour into the bay, and went seaward. I thought this was probably the last we should see of her. On the same evening I communicated to Ebierbing and Tookoolito my intended immediate departure, and informed them that I had made arrangements with the captain for their removal nearer the ship, so that Ebierbing might receive some better attention. They were sorrowful at my leaving, but hoped to see me again before many weeks.
I then requested Ebierbing to assist me in persuading Koodloo and his nuliana "Jennie" to accompany me, which would just complete my now proposed crew. I soon found that both Ebierbing and Tookoolito were very loth to have the angeko (Jennie) leave while Ebierbing was sick I therefore gave her up, accepting Koodloo's offer to go without her.
On Thursday morning, the 8th of August, I found that Ebierbing had slept better than for several nights past. At 9 a.m., while Koodloo was on the top of our island (Whale Island), he cried down to Tookoolito, who was making our morning coffee, under the lee of some rocks, that a boat was coming from the ship. I ran up, and was delighted to find it so, for I knew by this that the proposals I had made to the Innuits Koojesse and Charley, whom, with their wives, I wanted for my crew, had been accepted; and yet I was pained, as I thought of the necessity of leaving behind my faithful friends Ebierbing and Tookoolito. I hastened back, took my cup of coffee and dish of lump pemmican, and breakfasted.
Well, the boat arrived, and brought me a note from Captain B. I told Ebierbing that we could now remove him and his effects; that Captain B had kindly responded to my request, and sent down for him, and that so good an opportunity ought not to be lost. He was willing to do as I advised; but Koodloo was slow to move. Meanwhile almost a gale had sprung up in the east, rendering it inexpedient to venture to take Ebierbing to the ship in his weak state. As it was necessary to visit the ship prior to my final departure on the proposed voyage, I left Ebierbing and Tookoolito with the assurance that I would call again the next day, and that they would be removed as soon as Ebierbing could bear it and the weather should permit. We arrived on board just at noon. Shortly after, Koojesse and Charley came aboard from the Innuit village near the ship, when I soon found that they were fearful I wished to prolong my stay at the head of Frobisher Bay until the cold weather, and, if so, they were not disposed to go. I therefore explained to them that I should probably return in about a month, or, at farthest, in less than two months. They were then quite satisfied, and agreed to accompany me. My journal of this day, August 8th, 1861, concludes thus:—
"As I meet Koojesse and Kooperneung (Charley), I find them in capital spirits. At tea their wives Tu-nuk-der-lien and Ak-chuk-er-zhun are aboard, and appear in good new dresses, and hair dressed in 'States fashion.' Converse with them of the voyage we are about to make to 'wes-see-poke' (far-off land). I am highly elated, my crew so far excellent. Captain B, with whom I have counselled, advised me to take Ebierbing's aunt, Koo-ou-le-arng (Suzhi), making, with Koodloo, a crew of six—five at the oars and one boat-steerer, leaving me free to be constantly on the look-out. The only objection to Suzhi is that she is very heavy, weighing not less than 200 pounds—the very heaviest Innuit of the country.
"All arrangements are now made to start from the vessel early to-morrow morning. Breakfast is ordered by Captain B to be in readiness at 5 a.m. The Innuits are to strike their tupics, and have them in the boat, and be alongside at that hour. The weather is now good, and to-night gives every indication of a fair day to-morrow. May it prove so. I have taken out of the ship's "run" a can (ninety pounds) of pemmican, and one cask of "Borden's" meat-biscuit (about one hundred pounds), brought with me from home. These I shall carry along in the boat, being the most condensed form of valuable provisions. Not that I expect these will be the only provisions I shall have, for there is reason to suppose we shall acquire much in going up Frobisher Bay in the way of ducks, seals, and reindeer, the latter when we arrive at the head of Frobisher Bay.
"At a late hour I turn in, to rise early, that we may be off to reap the benefit of a fair tide not only in going down to, but proceeding through Lupton Channel An ebb tide will favour us much in getting to the channel, and the flood in getting through it."