Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 2/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
Peale Point—Bishop's Island—Land on Kingaite—A new Country—Night at the Camp—Sunlight on the Mountains—Talk with sick Tweroong—The Bible—Innuit Ideas of Heaven and Hell—Foggy Day—Aggoun—Not a Tuktoo, but a Goose—Vexatious Delays—A Day of Trials and Discoveries—Arrive at West side Head of Frobisher Bay—Jordan's River—Hazard's Banks—Explore the New Land—Beautiful Cascade—Brent Geese—Silliman's Fossil Mount—Romantic Pass, the Great Gateway—A White Whale—An Innuit's ill Humour—His savage Attack on his Wife—Another Walk to the Falls—Start on Excursion to the Great Gateway—Arctic Owl—Fossils—Author sick—Kind Attention of Tweroong—Dish of Salmon—Laughable Incident—Koomuk and Pepper—Visit to Silliman's Fossil Mount.
It was on Thursday morning, August 29th, 1861, when we made preparations to leave our twelfth encampment to cross over to the westward to Kingaite, along the head of the Bay of Frobisher. Before I proceed with my narrative, let me bring forward an extract from my journal written the evening previous:—
"Indeed we are in a land and by waters of plenty. I am constantly overwhelmed with presents of the very best of choice eating—tuktoo tongues, toodnoo, venison, ducks, seals, and salmon. Kooperneung this moment (8 p.m.) comes in, saying that Koojesse is near by. Now for the trip across the head of Frobisher Bay to Kingaite side.... 8.30 p.m. Koojesse has just arrived; brought four tuktoo skins, showing that he has killed as many reindeer. What a pity that such excellent meat as venison should be abandoned! He has seen nothing of Koodloo, who still remains out. The weather continues fine, and indications are every way favourable of its continuance."
Thursday morning Koodloo had not returned from his prolonged tuktoo hunt. Arrangements having been previously made with him that, in case he returned and found us gone, he should make his way over the land terminating Frobisher Bay to Kingaite, where he would find us, we decided to strike tupics, pack boats, and push on. At 10.30 a.m. the two boats and two kias were under way, our course nearly due west, to a point of land called by the natives Kou-mark-bing—named by me Peale Point[1]—that shoots down abruptly some three miles from the most northerly extreme of Frobisher Bay.
We soon passed an indentation in the coast of about three miles, at the head of which was a grassy plain, a little inclined from the water's edge to the hills that flank it, and extending back for about a mile. As we approached Peale Point I found it fringed with many islets, and, on arriving there, landed for making meridional observations. Peale Point consists of rugged rocks, which, though not of great height, are yet considerably more elevated than any part of the land at the head proper of Frobisher Bay. Here we found on the sandy beach large and remarkable time-worn boulders, nearly white, and numerous tuktoo tracks. I noticed, also, the usual signs of Innuit encampments, such as circles of stones, bones of various animals, &c. On reaching the lower group of islands near the cape, Koojesse, who was in his kia, came alongside. I asked him, "Nou-ti-ma?"—where now? He pointed toward a long island out of our regular course across the bay. I told him I wished and expected to go direct to the opposite side from our last encampment—to go to Ag-goun, the west side of the head of the bay. He replied that we could not get there, as the tide would be too low for the boat before arriving. I thought differently, and said I wished to go there and spend a day or two. He, however, seemed not disposed to please me, and remarked that I could see the whole head of the bay from the point where he desired to go. I answered that this would not do; I must go where I wanted to. If he wished to visit the point named, well and good; he might go there and spend the night, but on the morrow I must have him and the others proceed with me in the direction I wished. He agreed to this, though evidently considering it useless, so long as I could see the termination of the bay.
According to my original purpose, I thought it well to attempt to go back by the Kingaite side, that is, opposite to my upward route. At all events I would endeavour to get as far as the island Kikitukjua, Gabriel's Island[2] of Frobisher
LANDING FOR THE NIGHT'S ENCAMPMENT.
which is not far from the locality where "Sampson" and his people were located during my visit to them in the previous winter. It is true that I had intended to revisit the coast on that side; but still enough had been done, with sufficient accuracy, for the civilized world to gain a knowledge of the general situation of Frobisher Bay. At least, the opinion that these waters are a strait ought not any longer to be entertained.
At 4 p.m. having made a distance of six miles from Peale's Point on a course S. 40° W. true, we entered a channel, with Kingaite on our right and Bishop's Island[3] at our left. The coast on each side was steep, but in many places covered with grass and the usual vegetation to be found here in the North. The entrance to this channel was about half a mile wide; but, on making a quarter of a mile, it brought us into a harbour that appeared to be a fine one, not less than two and a half miles in diameter. Thence we passed on a course nearly south to the west side of the harbour, where we landed, and there made our thirteenth encampment[4] on Kingaite.
Throughout this day, on approaching the islands or main land, I noticed that the water seemed very shallow, and it was certain that no large-sized ships could attempt to reach the head of Frobisher Bay with any degree of safety.
Before arriving at the place of our encampment, I saw the tupics of our other Innuit friends and the curling smoke of their fires. As I landed Koodloo greeted us. He had just come in from his hunt, having shot and secured skins and toodnoo of four deer. This made thirteen that my three men had killed within four days. On making up to our intended encampment, all hands commenced unloading the boat, the females, as was customary, acting as pack-horses in conveying everything up the steep rocks beyond reach of the tide; then they selected a convenient spot and erected the tupics.
A few moments after our arrival, with the "stars and stripes" of my country in one hand and my spyglass in the other, I made my way to the crest of a high hill in the rear of our encampment. Before starting, the sun was down—to us; but, as I reached the summit, his glorious rays burst upon me. And how glad was my heart as I planted the flag of America upon that mountain-top, and beheld it fluttering to the breezes of heaven in the sun's light. The red, white, and blue—the argent stars—seemed gifted with a speaking spirit that said, "God hath ever blessed, and ever will bless this emblem of freedom and power!" Yes, said I, mentally, that banner now floats where white man never stood before. The American flag precedes all others in proclaiming that this is the inceptive moment when civilization, with all its attendant virtues, makes hither its advance.
RAISING THE AMERICAN FLAG.
How soul-inspiring was the scene before me as, drinking in the sweets presented to my eyes, I wended my way from one mountain-top to another. It was night when I got back to our encampment, and I was immediately greeted with two welcome presents of blueberries. Tweroong brought hers in a gold-banded china saucer. And a most strange sight it was, here amid the gray old rocks, and among this iron people, to see such an emblem of civilization as a tea-saucer. It was brim full of ripe, luscious berries, which were then very abundant.
As I descended from the mountains I saw that the white clouds were kissing their tops. I knew this was an omen of bad weather. A thick fog soon settled, and this, on the following day, August 30th, turned into cold and wet, confining me the whole time to our tent. During the day Puto was in our tupic cutting out a jacket for Kooperneung's wife. The skins were of a kind of seals called by the natives kus-se-gear, which has softer hair than some other species, and visits salt and fresh water alike. These skins being beautifully mottled and glossy, make fine-looking dresses, and are much prized by the Innuits. Koomuk, wife of Toolookaah, both of Sekoselar, brought me a huge reindeer tongue. In return I gave her some beads, which greatly delighted her. Tweroong was there at the time, and I asked her what she had done with the beads I had recently presented her. Her reply was that she had given them to the angeko for his services in her sickness. As she was a truly generous, kind-hearted woman, I selected a few more and gave them to her, and in returning the remainder to a little tin case, in which I kept my journal, observation books, and a few other precious things, my eye rested on the Bible. I took it out and held it up before the women, saying, "This talks to me about Kood-le-par-mi-ung (heaven)."
If a flash of lightning had come down into the tupic with all its blaze it could not have had a more sudden effect than what I said and showed to them. At first they looked affrighted, but the next instant smiles of great joy appeared upon their countenances. I never shall forget that moment. Tweroong was sitting by my side on some furs spread upon the ground, making a sketch for me of the coast on the north side of Hudson's Strait, while Koomuk was lying on the grass by the tent door, with her head inside, facing us. On the instant that I said the Bible talked to me of heaven they both sprang up, apparently banishing all thought of everything else from their minds, and expressed a wish that I should talk to them about what it said to me. My imperfect knowledge of their language, however, precluded me from telling them much that it did say. Neither could I do more, when Tweroong asked me if it talked about Ad-le-par-me-un, pointing down, than to answer in the affirmative, bringing forth more surprise from them. I need hardly say how much I longed to possess the power of communicating to them the truthful beauties of our Christian faith; of dwelling upon its heavenly Founder, and of telling them of God. Perchance the day may yet come when these people shall no longer be without some one who can do so.
On Saturday, August 31st, the weather was thick and foggy. In the morning I had a good wash with snow—not snow of this season, however. What its age was I know not; perhaps it belonged to many winters ago; but, notwithstanding, it was fresh and white, and it gave me clean, cool hands and face, which is a luxury in the North as well as in any other place. By the side of this friendly snow-drift was abundant vegetation, green and fruitful, and blueberries all around. I picked some with rather cold, stiff fingers, and made a capital feast. I had not found any place where there was a greater variety of vegetable growth within the same space. In a little spot, not over four feet square, one could count more than fifty different kinds of vegetation. Mosses, grasses, berry-bushes, flowers, willows, and many other plants, could be enumerated as abounding in that little plot. But all these were quite diminutive; for instance, the blueberry-bushes were only from an inch to two inches in height.
On this day I made arrangements with Miner and Koojesse for the whole company in the boats and kias to return by the Kingaite side. It was agreed that we should proceed first to Aggoun—the Innuit name of the west side of the head of Frobisher Bay—and thence return and follow down the coast of Kingaite. The chief reason for my making such an arrangement was that, by having two boats, should a mishap occur to one, the other would be our "Rescue."
We started from our thirteenth encampment in the afternoon, leaving behind two of the Innuit tents erect, and some sundries, to be called for on our return from Aggoun. Our course was direct for the northwest end of Bishop's Island, upon which I landed. From its top the whole head of Frobisher Bay, from Sylvia Grinnell River, north-east side, to Aggoun, west side, was in view. It is fourteen nautical miles across. The termination is not by deep bays or fiords, but by slight indentations, the greatest not exceeding three miles. Bishop's Island was well covered with vegetation, especially with reindeer moss, the ground, in many parts, being quite carpeted with it.
As we descended the side-hill leading to the boat, I found the women busily engaged with their cups in blueberry picking, pulling them now and then by the handful, the berries were so large and abundant. Before long the party came on board, bringing with them quarts of the luscious fruit, with which they entertained us very agreeably, the whole scene carrying me back at once among the friends of my youth.
Innuits will always be Innuits. When we left our thirteenth encampment, one of them had gone off with his kia to an island to hunt some tuktoo, which had been seen two hours before. A part of the company had been left with the other boat to await the return of the deer-hunter, while the rest of us went on slowly, stopping at Bishop's Island, as above related. We had but just re-embarked, when Koojesse, looking through his spyglass back toward the encampment, announced that the other party had a tuktoo in the water—a live tuktoo! This fired every Innuit; all the powers of reason could not keep them from going to see the fun; and so about we went, and in a moment they were all pulling back as for dear life. The sequel was more amusing and satisfactory to me than to my Innuits. When they came near enough to see their live tuktoo, it turned out to be only a goose!
After sundry other vexatious delays of a similar nature we were fairly under way, and the scene was for a time pretty indeed. The boats were alongside of each other. The Innuit women were at the oars. In the jacket-hood of Puto was her child, the constant, measured rock of the body in pulling the oar being equal for sleep-giving to any patent Yankee cradle ever invented. The gilt head-bands of the ladies glittered and flashed, and the whole picture was peculiar and charming.
At about 6 p.m. we stopped for our fourteenth encampment,[5] the fog shutting us out from all view except of the coast on our left. The place where we encamped was on the Kingaite side of Frobisher Bay, at the base of a long straight bank of sand and shingle, from thirty-five to forty feet high, the top being a grassy slope which extended back some three hundred fathoms to the mountains.
"September 1st, 1861.—A day of trials and discovery. At last I am where I have long desired to be. From my own vision, 'Frobisher's Strait' is a myth. It only exists in the minds of the civilized world—not in fact.10
"I find this side still more interesting than the other. Here, at the west extreme, are far more extensive plains of grassy land than elsewhere. Koojesse has this moment passed to my hands what I think will prove to be rare geological specimens—fossils."
But let me give the day's occurrences in a methodical form; for I wrote the above, and much more, in my diary while sitting on the rocks that are at the head of Frobisher Bay, after several hours' severe labour.
The morning commenced thick and foggy, with occasional glimpses of finer weather. I ascended to the plain in the rear of the fourteenth encampment, at the top of the sand and shingle bank, and saw much vegetation, with numerous signs of reindeer in the neighbourhood. Then I examined wherever I could; but my view was very limited, as numerous islands bounded the vision toward the bay. At low water frequent shoals are exposed, and even to navigate our boats thus far we had been obliged to wait for the tide at half flood.
When I desired to get under way, I found that Koojesse, without saying one word to me about it, had gone out on the mountain tuktoo hunting. Kooperneung had also taken Miner's kia, and had set out in advance after seals. Thus was I perpetually annoyed by the freaks and vagaries of this free and independent people. At last, however, at 1 p.m. we left our encampment and proceeded up the west side of the bay, toward its extreme head, called by the Innuits Aggoun.
I had a boat's crew of women; for Koodloo, who had frequently proved himself a lazy dog, sat in the bow with his oar peaked, leisurely reclining on his thwart. Having gone for some time in a northwesterly direction, I turned the boat toward the shore (Kingaite side), intending to land and visit a remarkable ridge of what seemed to be sand, stretching a mile or so along the coast. Before getting near the shore, though, I could see that the water was becoming very shallow, the bottom being of fine sand, and the boat soon grounded. As I could not make a landing, I concluded to push on, for I felt sure that we were very near the termination of Frobisher Bay. I reckoned without my host, however, in thinking to get on without trouble. The Innuits of my boat looked back to the craft of "Miner," and declared that the latter was making an encampment about a mile behind. I found the crew bent on going thither, but I was determined this should not be. I asked Suzhi, "Noutima Aggoun?"—where is Aggoun? She pointed to where Miner was. I knew this to be but a trick to get me back. I felt that I could manage women at least, and cried out A-choot!— pull ahead—returning a decided negative to their prayers to go back. With some difficulty I brought them to their working senses.
Finally we reached the estuary of a river—Jordan's River,[6] as I have named it—and, after crossing it, landed on its eastern side. We were then obliged to wade quite a distance to the shore proper through mud that was nearly knee deep. On a small grass-plat of Hazard's Banks[7] we made our fifteenth encampment.
Leaving the Innuits to unload the boat, I started off on a tramp of discovery, and continued my course up the river, which at first ran in a northwest direction, and then, for a short distance, more northerly. As I walked along, charmed with the prospect before me, I came across a skull, which I took up for the purpose of ascertaining from the Innuits to what animal it belonged. I afterwards found that it was that of a white whale. I saw around me, as I advanced, that vegetation was abundant, and signs of animal life were very numerous. As I rounded a rocky eminence by the river side, at a distance of a mile from where I had left the boat, a beautiful cascade, at the head of tide-water, was before me, and at its base a little sheet of water nearly covered with Brent geese.
From this point an extensive and picturesque scene burst upon my view. Before me were long and wide plains, meadows of grass, smoothly-sloping hills, and a range of mountains beyond, which, parting in one particular spot, formed, as it were, a natural gateway, that might almost lead, in fancy, to some fairy land beyond. At my left, across the river, was a ridge of white, which I afterward named Silliman's Fossil Mount,[8] and behind it the unbroken front of a line of mountains extending northwesterly to the opening which I have called the Great Gateway. On the other, or northern side, the mountains continued from this singular opening on by Frobisher Bay to the locality around Field Bay, far to the southwest and eastward. Flocks of little chirping birds greeted me at every turn, and nowyers and ducks were in numbers before my eye. Words cannot express my delight, in view of this scene, as I stood by the waterfall, beholding its white spray, and the clear, limpid stream of the river.
The fall is about twenty-five feet in three or four rods, and at no place over four feet descent at once. The river is not so large as the Sylvia Grinnell, and yet, though the season is evidently a dry one, much water flows along, and at certain portions of the year this stream must discharge a large quantity. The banks in some places are of fine sand, and in others, farther up, of ledges of rocks that are from fifty to sixty feet high. I wandered about for two hours, and then returned to our camp.
Miner's boat was out at the time, but I soon saw it approaching at great speed, its crew shouting lustily. In a moment I perceived the cause of their excitement. A white whale was swiftly making its way through the waters toward the main bay. The Innuits were after it, and their shouting voices made the neighbourhood ring again; but it escaped, and the boat came to our encampment, the occupants in no good humour. One of the men, Charley, clearly proved this. His wife was helping to unload the boat, and had to walk through deep mud with a heavy load upon her shoulder. Suddenly, for some unknown cause, Charley, with great force, threw his seal-hook directly at her. It caught in her jacket. Turning round, she calmly took it out, and then walked on again. It was a cruel act of the man, but these Innuits always summarily punish their wives for any real or imaginary offence. They seize the first thing at hand—a stone, knife, hatchet, or spear—and throw it at the offending woman, just as they would at their dogs.
Two of our party were still absent. Koojesse, however, made his appearance on the opposite side of the river, and it was necessary to send the kia to fetch him off. Now a kia has but one hole in its covering for the person who uses it; therefore, if a second person is to be carried anywhere, he or she must take a position directly behind the other occupant, lying flat on the face, perfectly straight and still. It was in this manner that Koojesse, and afterward Toolookaah, were brought off.
I had another walk up to the falls, and again the scene appeared to me as one of the most beautiful I had ever beheld. I felt like those old Icelanders who visited the regions west of them, and, because of more verdure seen than in their own country, exclaimed, "This is Greenland!" In the present case, my feeling was that no more appropriate name could be given to the district before me than "Greenwood's Land," in honour of Miles Greenwood, of Cincinnati, Ohio. I think no one, not even an English geographer, will question my right to name this land. At the head of Frobisher Bay—now positively determined to be such, and no longer a "strait"—exists this beautiful and fertile district, and I considered the name of Greenwood to be especially appropriate.
On the morning of September 2d, after breakfast, reindeer were seen on the plain across the river, and immediate chase was given by some of our hunters. Two were speedily captured, and all hands soon began the task of skinning the animals and preparing food. While the people were thus occupied, I started, accompanied by Tunukderlien and Toolookaah, for an excursion inland toward the Great Gateway. We arrived at a place opposite the falls, and there, seated on the green carpet of nature, the woman commenced sewing, while I occupied myself with my journal. Koojesse, who was to go with me, shortly arrived, crossing the river to us by fearful leaps from rock to rock over the rushing stream. Soon after, Toolookaah—who had gone across the river to a feast at the place where the reindeer were killed—rejoined us, and we again proceeded on our exploring trip; but in a short time rain fell, and we had to take shelter under a huge boulder rock, distant from the tupics six miles. Finally, as a heavy storm set in, spoiling my excursion for the day, we returned to the encampment. During our journey a white owl was seen; also partridges and other wild game. Several rare specimens of fossils were also picked up, and in every direction I found abundant evidence of a region fertile to the explorer.
The two reindeer shot this morning were mother and young. The latter was fired at first. The parent then hastened to her offspring, and this enabled the shrewd Innuits to kill the doe. It is the general custom among this people, in chasing the deer, to kill the fawn first; then it is rare indeed that the mother is not also secured.
For some time past I had been suffering from painful boils, and the morning of September 3d found me quite ill, and confined to my fur bed inside the tupic. I felt no inclination to eat until the kind-hearted Tweroong came in, with her pretty china tea-saucer full of golden salmon, smoking hot. The very sight of it made me better. It was delicious, and seemed to fairly melt in my mouth. It did me much good, and I could not help thinking of my present situation as contrasted with that of other civilized men. There, alone, among a people termed "unenlightened, savages, and degraded beings"—away by myself in a newly-discovered region, that is, in a district previously untrodden by my own white race—confined by sickness within a shelter that scarcely protects from rain and wind—everything dripping wet—suffering from the pain of my body, and having no person to procure me what I might want, I am unexpectedly visited by a woman of the land, bearing in her hand a beautiful emblem of civilization filled with the most dainty dish—boiled salmon—fresh from the river I had just discovered. Truly woman—a good woman—is an angel wherever she is. The vision of Tweroong will long live in my memory. God bless the kind-hearted Innuit for her thoughtfulness, and her care of the white-man stranger in her own wonderful land.
During the day Koojesse was using in his soup some pepper which I had brought with me as a condiment. Koomuk desired to taste it, and Koojesse at once gratified her wish. He sifted some into her open hand, and she immediately lapped it up in one dose. The next moment all the contortions, grimaces, jumping, and spitting that could be imagined followed. The woman seemed as if struck with sudden madness, and, when once more calm, declared that nothing should ever induce her to put such vile stuff in her mouth again. An hour later, Toolookaah, Koomuk's wing-a (husband), was served in a similar way. He came into the tent, and, seeing that something from my well-seasoned dish was still left, he desired to have it. What he thus coveted was merely salt and pepper, articles to him unknown. He, thinking it to be a delicacy of the white man's, licked it all up in quick time. The result may be imagined. Though myself sick, I could not control my laughter, in which "Miner" and the other Innuits joined on beholding the poor man's terror and dismay, added to the most comical contortions of his countenance. In Koomuk's case she had only pepper, but Toolookaah had a double dose—pepper and salt—and he suffered accordingly.
The next day, September 4th, I was still confined to my tent by sickness. The abscess on my shoulder had become so painful that every remedy in my power to apply was resorted to. At length a salve formed of reindeer tallow gave me some relief. During this time every kind attention was paid to me by the Innuit women, especially Tweroong, who frequently brought various cooked dishes to tempt my poor appetite. Oh, woman! thou, indeed, canst rob pain of its sting, and plant refreshing flowers in its place. Thy mission is a glorious one. Even among the rudest tribes of the earth thy softening hand and kindly heart are found. No land, however distant, however repulsive, limits thy noble deeds. Thy words may be few, but they are musical to one sick in body or wearied in mind; thy good works may be silently done, but they are lasting and immeasurable.
A very high tide occurred on the morning of September 5th. The weather was pleasanter, but many signs were manifest which urged me to return to the ship. The Kingaite mountains were topped with white, and the cold was sensibly felt in the night time; but my sick state still prevented me from moving out on any land excursion, as I wished. The same morning "Miner," with his wife and crew, left for the place of our thirteenth encampment.
I here bring forward a few extracts from my journal:—
"Thursday, September 5th.—...To-morrow we leave our fifteenth encampment for the place of the thirteenth. There I shall find my good-souled Innuit friend Tweroong, who will prepare me something good. I do not like to leave here till I have done more work; but I must go, sick as I am.
"The weather now indicates a favourable change. The evening is pleasant. I pray Gud to bless me with restored health.
"This evening, at high tide, I and Koojesse were going to take the boat and ferry the river, that I might visit the remarkable phenomenon of these regions—the Sand Mount; but I have sent for him to come to my tupic, saying I could not go—was not able, indeed.
"The snow that fell last night, and which whitened the mountains of Kingaite this morning, has disappeared during the day.
"Friday, September 6th.—Another terrible night of struggle with pains. When shall I be well again? The fine weather of to-day has been of some benefit. God be praised.
"This morning, at an early hour, I was up. I might as well have been up all night; for, though down on a soft tuktoo bed, and dry, yet I could get no sweet sleep.
"When the tide was up sufficient to set the boat afloat, I got Koojesse and Koodloo to ferry me across the river, that I might visit the peculiar sight which had been constantly staring me in my face during my five days' stop at the fifteenth encampment. I visited that phenomenon; I mounted it, and went around it also. It is a mount of marine fossils in limestone, half a mile long, and over a hundred feet high. It presents something of the appearance given in the engraving opposite, the long line of Kingaite mountains behind stretching away to the Gateway north-west.
..."The débris of the fossils begins at or near the top of the mount, falling at such an angle as broken stone from a mountain always makes—an inclination of about 40°. Above the talus, or heap of broken stones, is a mass of fossils in limestone, strata-like. A smaller mount[9] of the same character is close by, but all in débris. It seems to have been divided from the main by the rushing down of waters from the mountains behind. A small stream comes down the mountains, passes along, and finally makes its way out between the two fossil mounts. This is also indicated in the course of this stream, as an acre or more of the plain is covered several feet in depth with the washed-down debris of fossils. I picked up several specimens, and have them with me. The top of Silliman's Fossil Mount is covered with boulders and grass. Even when close to the small mount it looks like sand, but on examination it is fine broken limestone and fossils.
SILLIMAN'S FOSSIL MOUNT.
"Having spent two hours on and around this interesting mount, I made my way over the plain of grass between said mount and the river, and cried to those at the fifteenth encampment. Soon Koodloo, with two of the lady portion of the crew, put out after me. I had my arms and pockets full of specimens, and a hard, weak, weary time did I have of it.
"I had thought to cut in stone, somewhere near the fifteenth encampment, my name, or something to indicate my visit here (to the head of the Bay of Frobisher), but I had not the tools to do it with. This thought occurred to me on the idea that some of civilization who may yet make a voyage here might have this proof that I had preceded him or them.
"But the description of the river, the falls, the fossil mount, the miles of exposed bottom at low tide, will answer as well. What better proof do I want?
"When we got back to the encampment the tide had begun to fall. This indicated that, if we would get away to-day, we must make haste. The tupics I found all struck, and everything ready for departure. I made the observations which commence this day's record, and then we were ready for our homeward voyage by way of Kingaite side. What deep regrets thus to depart from this interesting land that I have denominated Greenwood's Land!"
- ↑ Named after Washington Peale, of New York City. It is in lat. 63° 43′ 30″ N. long. 68° 33′ W.
- ↑ The centre of Gabriel's Island is in lat. 62° 51′ N. long. 66° 22′ W.—Vide Chart.
- ↑ Thus named after R. M. Bishop, of Cincinnati, Ohio. The centre of this island, which bounds the north and eastern side of the harbour of the thirteenth encampment, is in lat. 63° 37′ N. long. 68° 35′ W.
- ↑ Our thirteenth encampment was in lat. 63° 36′ N. long. 68° 43′ W.
- ↑ Our fourteenth encampment was in lat. 68° 41′ N. long, 68° 48′ W.
- ↑ Named after Daniel B. Jordan, of Cincinnati, Ohio.
- ↑ The land on the east side of the estuary of Jordan's River I have named after Charles S. Hazard, of New York City. Hazard's Banks are in lat. 63° 46′ N. long. 68° 52′ W.
- ↑ Thus named after Benjamin Silliman, Jr. of New Haven, Conn. This fossil mount is on the west side of the termination of Frobisher Bay. It is in lat. 63° 44′, long. 68° 56′.
- ↑ The small mount referred to is not represented in the illustration, but is to the right, or north-west of the main one.