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Schwatka's Search

William H. Gilder

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Title: Schwatka's Search

Author: William H. Gilder

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[Frontispiece: LIEUTENANT SCHWATKA]

SCHWATKA'S SEARCH

SLEDGING IN THE ARCTIC IN QUEST OF THE FRANKLIN RECORDS

WILLIAM H. GILDER

SECOND IN COMMAND

INTRODUCTION.

On the 25th of September, 1880, the leading English newspaper published

the following words:--

"Lieutenant Schwatka has now resolved the last doubts that could have

been felt about the fate of the Franklin expedition. He has traced the

one untraced ship to its grave beyond the ocean, and cleared the

reputation of a harmless people from an undeserved reproach. He has

given to the unburied bones of the crews probably the only safeguard

against desecration by wandering wild beasts and heedless Esquimaux

Which that frozen land allowed. He has brought home for reverent

sepulture, in a kindlier soil, the one body which bore transport. Over

the rest he has set up monuments to emphasize the undying memory of

their sufferings and their exploit. He has gathered tokens by which

friends and relatives may identify their dead, and revisit in

imagination the spots in which the ashes lie. Lastly, he has carried

home with him material evidence to complete the annals of Arctic

exploration."

The record of Schwatka's expedition is written in these pages. Much of

it has already been published in detached letters by the 'New York

Herald', which engaged the author to act as its correspondent during

the journey. Other hands than his have reduced it to its present shape,

for his restless energy has again driven him toward the North, and has

enlisted him among the crew of the 'Rodgers', which is seeking the

lost 'Jeannette'. Beyond a mere concatenation of the chapters it

has been nowhere altered with a view to literary effect or sensational

color. The notes from which it is drawn were made from day to day; and

if critics find in it facts which are either improbable or unpalatable,

they may, at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that it is a

faithful narrative of carefully sifted evidence.

This needs to be said because the statements of the writer have already

been questioned in one or two details. He says that the party

experienced such cold weather as was almost without precedent in Arctic

travel, the temperature falling to seventy-one degrees below zero. He

says that the party killed more than five hundred reindeer, besides

musk-oxen, bears, walrus, and seal, in regions where Rae and McClintock

could scarcely find game at all, and where the crews of the

'Erebus' and 'Terror' starved to death. He says that of the

ads:

last survivors of Franklin's party the majority were officers, arguing

that the watches and silver relics found with their skeletons go far to

prove their rank. These statements have been doubted. The accuracy of

the thermometers being questioned, they were tested and found to be

curiously exact. The facilities for procuring game were assisted by the

use of improved weapons; and besides, as Sir Leopold McClintock has

justly shown, it was merely a tradition, not an ascertained fact, that

these sub-arctic regions were destitute of animal life. The method by

which the official position of the bodies was determined is

indisputably open to objection. "Watches and silver relics," writes

Vice-admiral Sir George Richards, "do not necessarily indicate a

corresponding number of officers. Such light valuable articles would

naturally be taken by the survivors."

But the point which has provoked more criticism than all the rest is

the native evidence that the distressed crews were in the last resort

reduced to cannibalism. This is set down just as it was heard, being

worth neither more nor less than any testimony on an event which

happened so many years ago. Between the risk of giving pain to living

relatives, and the reproach of having suppressed essential parts of the

story, no traveller should hesitate for an instant. Dr. John Rae, the

veteran of Franklin search parties, writes to the author in the

following words: "As my name is mentioned in connection with the

subject of cannibalism, I must state that when I came home in 1854 I

felt bound to report in as condensed a form as possible all the

information given us by the Esquimaux, including the most painful part.

I would have felt it my duty to do this even had my dearest friends

been among the lost ones, for had I withheld any part of the sad story,

it would have come to light through my men, and I should have been

accused, with some show of justice, of garbling my report. I consider

it no reproach, when suffering the agony to which extreme hunger

subjects some men, for them to do what the Esquimaux tell us was done.

Men so placed are no more responsible for their actions than a madman

who commits a great crime. Thank God, when starving for days, and

compelled to eat bits of skin, the bones of ptarmigan up to the beak

and down to the toe-nails, I felt no painful craving; but I have seen

men who suffered so much that I believe they would have eaten any kind

of food, however repulsive."

On the other hand, Sir George Richards shows strong reasons why the

Esquimaux should not be believed. "They are said to give as their

reasons," he writes, "that some of the limbs were removed as if by a

saw. If this is correct, they were, probably, the operators themselves.

We learn from the narrative that they were able to saw off the handles

of pickaxes and shovels. At all events the intercourse between the

natives and such of Franklin's crews as they met is surrounded by

circumstances of grave suspicion, as learned from themselves, and this

suspicion gathers strength from various circumstances related on

Schwatka's journey. Be this as it may, I take my stand on far higher

ground. Of course such things have happened. Strong, shipwrecked

mariners, suddenly cast adrift on the ocean, have endeavored to extend

life in this way when they were in hourly expectation of being rescued.

But how different the case in point! The crews of the 'Erebus' and

'Terror', when they abandoned their ship, were, doubtless, for the

most part, suffering from exhaustion and scurvy; death had been staring

them in the face for months. The greater part of them probably died

from exhaustion and disease long before they got a hundred miles from

their ships, and found their graves beneath the ice when it melted in

summer, or on the beach of King William Land. It is possible that no

more than half a dozen out of the whole crew ever reached the entrance

to the Great Fish River. We need not call in starvation to our aid. I

fully believe that by far the greater portion perished long before

their provisions were consumed. The only thing that would have restored

men to convalescence in their condition would have been nursing and the

comforts of hospital treatment, not a resort to human flesh."

Apart from these objections, of which the reader is only forewarned,

the importance of the results achieved by Lieutenant Schwatka's

expedition has not been gainsaid by any one possessing the least

acquaintance with Arctic matters. It made the largest sledge journey on

record, having been absent from its base of supplies for eleven months

and twenty days, and having traversed 2,819 geographical, or 3,251

statute miles. It was the first expedition which relied for its own

subsistence and for the subsistence of its dogs on the game which it

found in the locality. It was the first expedition in which the white

men of the party voluntarily assumed the same diet as the natives. It

was the first expedition which established beyond a doubt the loss of

the Franklin records. McClintock recorded an opinion that they had

perished: Schwatka recorded it as a fact.

The success of this latest Arctic journey has been attributed to small,

as well as to greater causes. The advantages of summer exploration were

manifest. The Esquimaux of the party gave invaluable aid, building

snow-huts with the skill to which none but natives attain, coating the

sledge-runners with ice according to a method which only natives

understand, and by their good offices enabling the expedition to hold

communication and have dealings with the wild tribes with whom they

came in contact. The dogs were chosen with the utmost circumspection,

and justified this care by their wonderful endurance. Game was

abundant. Such minor devices as the use of blue lights proved

efficacious in the dispersal of wolves. Woolen foot gear, made by

friendly natives, supplied a need which has often proved fatal in the

Arctic. Good management kept all the Esquimaux loyal, and Schwatka's

strong will helped the travellers to live while the dogs were falling

exhausted and dying by the way.

Among the relics that were brought home was the prow of the boat seen

by Sir Leopold McClintock in Erebus Bay, the sled on which it had been

transported, and the drag-rope by which the sled was drawn. There were

also two sheet-iron stoves from the first camp on King William Land, a

brush marked "H. Wilkes," some pieces of clothing from each grave,

together with buttons, canteens, shoes, tin cans, pickaxes, and every

thing that could in any way tend to identify the occupants of the

different graves or those who died without burial. They were offered to

the British Admiralty, and, having been gratefully accepted, were added

to the relics already deposited at the Museum in Greenwich Hospital,

and at the United Service Institution in London.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. NORTHWARD

CHAPTER II. THE WINTER CAMP

CHAPTER III. OUR DOGS

CHAPTER IV. IN THE SLEDGES

CHAPTER V. NATIVE WITNESSES

CHAPTER VI. THE MIDNIGHT SUN

CHAPTER VII. RELICS

CHAPTER VIII. IRVING'S GRAVE

CHAPTER IX. ARCTIC COSTUMES

CHAPTER X. OVER MELTING SNOWS

CHAPTER XI. AMATEUR ESQUIMAUX

CHAPTER XII. WALRUS DIET

CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN

CHAPTER XIV. FAMINE

CHAPTER XV. ESQUIMAU HOME-LIFE

CHAPTER XVI. HOMEWARD

CHAPTER XVII. THE GRAVES OF THE EXPLORERS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

LIEUTENANT SCHWATKA

CAMP DALY IN SUMMER

ESQUIMAUX GOING TO THE HUNTING-GROUND

A CAIRN

CAIRN MARKING DEPOSIT OF PROVISIONS

THE SHIPS IN WINTER QUARTERS

ESQUIMAU PLAYING THE KI-LOWTY

CAMP DALY IN WINTER

DOWN-HILL WITH THE SLEDGES

HUNTING MUSK-OXEN

THE GREAT BEND IN HAYES RIVER

THE SOURCES OF THE HAYES RIVER

MEETING WITH THE OOKJOOLIKS

THE NETCHILLIK AMBASSADRESS

THE COUNCIL WITH THE NETCHILLIKS

SNOW-HUTS ON CAPE HERSCHEL

CROSSING EREBUS BAY

CURIOUS FORMATION OF CLAY-STONE

CLAY-STONE MOUNDS

THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE

THE MARCH SOUTHWARD

SCHWATKA'S PERMANENT CAMP

HENRY KLUTSCHAK'S CAMP

VIEW ON BACK'S RIVER

THE DANGEROUS RAPIDS, BACK'S RIVER

THE MARCH IN EXTREME COLD WEATHER

VIEW ON CONNERY RIVER

ESQUIMAUX BUILDING A HUT

SECTION AND PLAN OF ESQUIMAUX HUT

ESQUIMAU WOMAN COOKING

[Map: THE OVERLAND ROUTE OF THE Exploring Expedition of

Lieut. Schwatka to and from KING WILLIAM'S LAND. 1879-1880.]

* * * * *

SCHWATKA'S SEARCH.

CHAPTER I.

NORTHWARD.

"Haul in the gang-plank;" "Let go the tow-line," shouted the captain of

the 'Fletcher'. Then he signalled the engineer to go ahead, and

the little schooner 'Eothen' was abandoned to her own resources

and the mercy of the mighty ocean. The last frantic handshaking was

over, and only wind-blown kisses and parting injunctions passed back

and forth as the distance between the voyagers and their escort kept

continually increasing, until nothing could be heard but the hearty

cheers that wished for us a pleasant journey and unbounded success.

There was no time now for regrets, for if we would be comfortable we

must direct our thoughts seaward and get our bunks ready for sleeping.

So we were paired off and went immediately to work. As Lieutenant

Schwatka was not only the senior officer of the expedition, but at the

same time taller than I by several inches, I willingly yielded him the

top bunk of our state-room, and waited patiently outside until he had

prepared his lair, for it would be impossible for two to work at the

same time in such very narrow space. He at last arranged his two

buffalo robes to his perfect satisfaction, and I soon spread my humbler

blankets to the best advantage. So much accomplished we retired to our

first sleep on shipboard.

We had left New York on the 19th June, 1878, a party of five, none of

us unaccustomed to hardship and adventure. Lieutenant Frederick

Schwatka, of the Third United States Cavalry, Polish by descent,

American by birth, had been distinguished in the war; and I, who was

second in command, had seen a good deal of active service. Henry

Klutschak, a Bohemian by birth, a civil engineer by profession, brought

us the advantage of his previous experiences in the Arctic; Frank E.

Melms was an experienced whaleman; and Joseph Ebierbing, well known as

"Esquimau Joe," had been with Captain Hall and Captain Hayes in their

journeys, and with the 'Pandora' expedition from England. The

'Eothen', that carried us, was commanded by Captain Thomas F.

Barry. Her crew included a first, second, and third mate, a carpenter,

blacksmith, cooper, steward and cook, three boat-steerers, and twelve

men before the mast. To prepare her for encounters with the ice, the

hull had been overlaid to the chain-plates with oak planking an inch

and a half thick, and the stem had been covered with oak about two feet

thick, over which was iron plating to the depth of three-quarters of an

inch. She was a stout vessel of one hundred and two tons. The stock of

provisions laid in on board of her for the use of the party included

hard bread, Indian-meal, flour, molasses, pemmican, canned meats,

preserved vegetables, preserved fruits, coffee, tea, and chocolate.

Horseradish was taken as a preventive against scurvy, and tobacco was

stored in abundance for the use of such Esquimaux as might have stories

to tell or assistance to offer. Arms and ammunition had been generously

presented to us by several manufacturers, and to individual bounty we

also owed many of our books, night-signals, instruments, and the timber

for our sledges.

The commander of the 'Eothen' was, indirectly, the originator of

the expedition. Everybody knows that for more than twenty years

explorers had been sailing from English and American ports in search of

the bodies or the papers of Sir John Franklin and his party. The

partial success which attended the investigations of Sir Leopold

McClintock had served to whet the public appetite. A story which

Captain Barry brought home from the Arctic made the curiosity still

greater. He said that in 1871-73, while on a whaling expedition, he was

frozen in with the 'Glacier' in Repulse Bay, and was there visited

by several Esquimaux who brought their families on board his vessel.

They had lost their way while hunting, and were anxious to see the

ships of white men. While on board the 'Glacier' they spoke of a

stranger in uniform who had visited them some years before, and who was

accompanied by many other white men. All of the party had afterward

died, but the chief had meanwhile collected a great quantity of papers.

He had left these papers behind him in a cairn, where, among other

things, some silver spoons had since been found. In the winter of 1876,

while the captain was with the bark 'A. Houghton' before Marble

Island, another set of Esquimaux visited him, and while looking at his

logbook said that the great white man who had been among them many

years before had kept a similar book, and having told him this one of

them gave him a spoon engraved with the word "Franklin."

This was enough to arrest the attention and stir the adventurous spirit

of Lieutenant Schwatka. He became eager to organize a search party and

find the cairn where the papers were supposed to be still buried. He

obtained leave of absence, went to New York, and proposed to Judge

Daly, of the Geographical Society, to take charge of an expedition.

After listening to the lieutenant's offer, Judge Daly gave him all the

information in his possession concerning the whereabouts of the

supposed cairn, so far as its site could be ascertained from the

history of the relics already said to be found, and commended him to

General Sherman, indorsing his application to be detailed to command

the exploring party. The lieutenant also conferred with Messrs.

Morrison & Brown, the shipping merchants of South Street, New York, who

owned the whaling vessel on which the supposed clew was brought home,

and they readily accepted his offer, and with the help of private

subscriptions fitted out the 'Eothen'. Their instructions to

Lieutenant Schwatka were as follows: "Upon your arrival at Repulse Bay

you will prepare for your inland journey by building your sledges and

taking such provisions as are necessary. As soon as sufficient snow is

on the ground you will start for King William Land and the Gulf of

Boothia. Take daily observations, and whenever you discover any error

in any of the charts you will correct the same. Whenever you shall make

any new discoveries you will mark the same on the charts; and important

discoveries I desire to be named after the Hon. Charles P. Daly and his

estimable wife, Mrs. Maria Daly. Any records you may think necessary

for you to leave on the trip, at such places as you think best, you

will mark ''Eothen' Franklin Arctic Search Party, Frederick

Schwatka in command;' date, longitude, and latitude; to be directed to

the President of the American Geographical Society, New York, United

States of America. Should you be fortunate in finding the records,

remains, or relics of Sir John Franklin or his unfortunate party, as I

have hopes you will, you will keep them in your or Joe's control, and

the contents thereof shall be kept secret, and no part thereof

destroyed, tampered with, or lost. Should you find the remains of Sir

John Franklin or any of his party, you will take the same, have them

properly taken care of, and bring them with you. The carpenter of the

'Eothen' will, before you start on your sledge journey, prepare

boxes necessary for the care of relics, remains, or records, should you

discover the same. Whatever you may discover or obtain you will deliver

to Captain Thomas F Barry, or whoever shall be in command of the

schooner 'Eothen', or such vessel as may be despatched for you.

You are now provisioned for eighteen months for twelve men. I shall

next spring send more provisions to you, so that in the event of your

trip being prolonged you shall not want for any of the necessaries of

life. You will be careful and economical with your provisions, and will

not allow anything to be wasted or destroyed. Should the expedition for

which it is intended prove a failure, make it a geographical success,

as you will be compelled to travel over a great deal of unexplored

country."

Thus manned, equipped, and instructed, we sailed from New York. It was

nearly a month before we saw our first iceberg. During the night of

July 11th I heard the order given to wear ship, and was called on deck

to see an iceberg dead ahead; but so great was the distance and so

foggy the weather that it was some time before I could make it out, and

then it appeared only as a thin, faintly bluish line. The eagle eyes of

the second mate had discovered it in time to avoid any danger of

collision; but the captain thought it more prudent to heave to and wait

until dawn before continuing on our course. The following morning a

regular old veteran berg could be seen from the deck, about twenty

miles away. It was apparently about a mile long, and could have

supplied the city of New York with ice for many years, were there any

way to preserve it for that purpose. During the 13th we saw four large

icebergs, which passed close by the ship. While writing in the cabin,

about eleven o'clock of the 15th, the mate on watch called me on deck

to see a magnificent aurora, the first we had seen. It was truly a

grand spectacle. At the same time the moon was shining brightly and the

sea was as smooth as glass. Near by an immense iceberg looked black

against the red twilight along the horizon, while in the distance

another berg was white in the light of the full moon. The air was

filled with the voices of wild-ducks, who could be heard, but not seen.

On Friday, the 19th, in latitude 59 deg. 54 min. north, and longitude

60 deg. 45 min. west., thirteen icebergs were to be seen during the

morning, and were of the most varied and picturesque description. One

appeared like a huge circus tent, with an adjoining side-show booth;

while near by another was a most perfect representation of a cottage by

the sea, with gables toward the observer, and chimneys rising at proper

intervals along the roofs. On the other side of the vessel a huge

monster presented a vast amphitheatre, with innumerable columns

sparkling in the sunlight and dazzling the spectator with their intense

brilliancy. I made a few sketches of the most remarkable in view; but

as twenty-three could be seen from the deck at three o'clock I gave up

in despair. At six o'clock thirty-three were in sight, and the sun set

beautifully, eight minutes past nine, surrounded by fourteen of these

monsters of the deep. On the night of the 19th I went on deck to see an

iceberg, which was a perfect counterpart of Newstead Abbey. One could

almost fancy he saw the ivy creeping over its sides, so deceptive were

the shadows that fell upon it from pinnacles and horizontal projections

innumerable.

At half-past seven o'clock in the evening we sighted a brigantine off

the weather beam, while thirty-one icebergs were around us. The vessel

was going the same way that we were bound, and was about fifteen miles

away. Sunday night, the 21st, was a splendid night. One could read

distinctly on deck throughout the entire night. There were plenty of

icebergs around. Those in front and on both sides of the ship were

black against the sky, the moon being on the other side of them, while

those we passed shone in all their virgin beauty in the bright

moonlight. The red twilight still lingered along the horizon,

graduating through a pale yellow tint to orange, and then deepening

into intense blue that was almost black. The picture was fierce in

color and startling in the contrasts it presented.

At a quarter before nine o'clock the next night we sighted Resolution

Island in the dim distance. Spy-glasses were at once brought into

requisition, and we could see that the mirage had fooled us, though

there seemed little doubt of the land's being visible. The next morning

the land was in plain sight, about thirty or thirty-five miles off the

weather beam, and the water filled with small and dangerous pieces of

ice. The land was covered with fog, and looked desolate enough, but

nevertheless seemed acceptable after a tedious journey against head

winds and calms. The wind was still directly out of the straits, and we

had to beat backward and forward from Resolution to Button Island, and

it seemed as if the straits were unapproachable. Toward night the wind

blew a perfect gale, and added to the usual dangers was the risk of

running upon the innumerable pieces of loose ice which appeared on

every side, many of them having sharp points projecting below the

surface of the water, and heavy enough to pierce the sides of any

vessel going at the speed we were compelled to make in order to keep

sufficient headway to steer clear of such obstacles as could be seen.

The captain and first mate, who were on deck most of the night, said

that disaster was imminent; that the danger was constant, and that the

night was withal one of the most terrible ordeals they had ever

experienced. I was tired and slept soundly, and consequently knew

nothing about it until morning, which dawned brightly and with a light

breeze, under which we passed up to the first ice-pack I had ever seen.

While engaged in conversation an inexperienced hand at the wheel

brought us so close to a small cake of ice, about the size of a

schooner, that collision was inevitable. A long projection beneath the

water had a most dangerous look, but fortunately was so deep that the

keel of the 'Eothen' ran up on it and somewhat deadened her

headway. Long poles were got out at once, and, all hands pushing,

succeeded after a while in getting her clear without damage; but it was

a perilous moment.

We worked over toward the south side of the straits, and found a

channel through which we could make but slow progress. The wind

increased and blew terrifically all night, forcing the vessels to beat

back and forth in the mouth of the straits, and we had a similar

experience on the night of the 22d, running the gauntlet under reefed

mainsail and jib through loose ice and in imminent danger of shipwreck.

Next day the ice appeared somewhat open, and Captain Barry concluded to

venture into the pack. When we got into clear water we worked up to the

bulkhead of ice and passed Resolution Island. We were almost as glad to

get rid of it as we had been to see it, nearly a week before. All the

icebergs we saw were aground, and several of them had arches cut into

their sides, which looked as if our vessel might safely sail inside and

secure a harbor. We worked up beyond the Lower Savage Islands, and in

sight of the Middle Savage and Saddleback Rock.

When we went to bed the weather was a dead calm, and the water of

glassy smoothness. Not a sound was to be heard save the distant thunder

of bursting icebergs and the water swashing up against the field-ice

that now and then passed with the current. It sounded for all the world

like waves upon a rock-bound coast, or like the distant rumbling of a

train of cars. About midnight Joe called me to announce that the

natives were coming off to the ship in boats. I hastened to put on my

clothes; but before I got dressed I could hear the captain's voice

shouting "Kimo" (Welcome), from the quarter-deck, and when I joined him

I could see two dark objects that seemed to be approaching rapidly, and

could hear the confused sounds of voices in conversation coming up from

the water. Presently it could be seen that one was a kyack and the

other an omien, or women's boat, filled with women and children and a

few men. By this time Joe had come on deck, and at Captain Barry's

request invited them to come aboard. When they heard their native

tongue from the stranger ship their surprise was unfeigned. The men

bought a number of corlitangs and kummings (native boots), as well as

other articles of apparel, and gave in exchange small pieces of

tobacco, a few cases of matches, and articles of clothing that were not

worth keeping. Captain Barry got a quantity of whalebone, reindeer and

fox skins, walrus ivory, a bear-skin, and about a hundred and fifty

pounds of fresh reindeer meat. We also bought three dogs for about a

pound of powder, and a kyack for Joe, for which the captain gave an old

broken double-barrelled gun and a handful of powder and shot. The owner

was in ecstasy over the bargain and Joe was more than happy.

I could not help, however, feeling mortified that such advantage should

be taken of their childish ignorance of values. I was not surprised,

then, when Joe, who has been long enough in civilized lands to know

what values are, came to me and said he thought it was wrong to rob

these people. They were his own people, and from the same tribe, in

fact, so that his interest was naturally with them. His own uncle was

one of the chief men of this tribe, but at the time we arrived had gone

inland with most of the men on a hunting expedition. Joe sent him his

pocket-knife as a present, and also was liberal with needles among the

women, who were very grateful for his generosity. The whalers seriously

object to giving things away to the natives, as it renders their system

of barter more difficult. It would be a greater benefit to all these

tribes to send one or two of their most intelligent young men to the

United States or to England for a few years, so that they could protect

them against the rapacity of the masters and owners of whaling ships.

They could then get something like a fair equivalent for the goods they

have to dispose of. The natives are better whalemen than any of the

seamen who come to this country, and they should certainly receive more

than a handful of powder and a few bullets for hundreds of pounds of

bone, worth about $2.50 a pound. Shortly after daylight the natives

departed, and a breeze springing up we set sail upon our journey.

Most of the day we were in full sight of the land, which I regarded

with keen interest. It certainly seemed the most desolate-looking

region I ever saw--a succession of hills of bald rock, with occasional

patches of snow and moss; not a house, nor a tree, nor, in fact, any

sign of animal or vegetable life--and yet I longed to put my foot upon

that barren soil and commence the work we had before us.

One of the principal annoyances of all sailing-masters in the Arctic

regions is the sluggish action of the magnetic needle as they approach

the magnetic pole, and it was a difficulty from which we were not

exempt. The land all looks so much alike that even when running in

plain sight of it it requires the greatest familiarity with the

principal points to be able to steer by them. During the night of

Friday, August 2, we, by some mysterious operation, got in between

Nottingham and Salisbury Islands, when we thought we were beyond the

Digges. We found a bad reef, just on a level with the water's edge,

about eight miles north-west of the north-west point of Nottingham

Island, which is not down upon the charts, and is situated just where a

vessel running along at night, "handy to the land," as sailors say,

would inevitably run upon it. We put it down upon our charts and called

it Trainor's Reef, as it was discovered by the third mate from the

mast-head. During a previous voyage Captain Barry discovered a similar

reef, about the same distance off the easterly point of Salisbury

Island, which we also noted and put down as Barry's Rock.

We reached Whale Point, at the entrance of Rowe's Welcome, during the

morning of Wednesday, August 7, just seven weeks from New York, and

about six o'clock a whale-boat reached the vessel's side, after having

chased us all night. It was loaded with natives of the Iwillie tribe,

two or three families of whom still remained at the Point, while the

others had gone down to the vicinity of Depot Island, which is half-way

between Cape Fullerton and Chesterfield Inlet. The visitors comprised

two men, a woman, two boys, a little orphan girl, and a baby. The woman

was a daughter of "Prince Albert," a man of considerable influence in

his tribe, and I understood that his power was due to superior

intelligence and sagacity. In fact, all those whom we met at this time

seemed much superior in intelligence to those who came aboard at the

Lower Savage Islands. They were cleaner, but by a mere trifle, and

showed improvement from contact with civilization. They usually

preferred to array themselves in some part of the costume of white

people, though not by any means particular in wearing it as white

people do. One of the men was a young fellow known as "Jim," who, the

captain thought, would be a desirable acquisition to our party to go to

King William Land, and Joe made the proposition to him. He regarded the

matter favorably, and was particularly interested when he saw some of

our fine rifles. His father was an old man, called "The Doctor," who

was dependent upon his son. After giving our guests breakfast and a few

presents we bade them good-by, and set sail for Depot Island, where we

arrived about four o'clock in the afternoon.

The lookout from the mast-head saw some boats coming from the

main-land, and presently three kyacks, an omien, and two whale-boats

came alongside, bringing about fifty people, including men, women,

and children. Among them were Armow and his two half-brothers, Ik-omer

(Fire) and Too-goo-lan. "Papa" was there also, and he, too, is one of

the few savages that are thoroughly reliable in every respect. He was

one of Captain Hall's party when he visited King William Land in 1868.

All these people seemed very friendly toward us, and upon a

consultation over the charts we decided to go on to the main-land, near

Depot Island, to spend the winter. We learned with deep regret that one

of the Natchillis, who was said to have spoken to Captain Barry about

the existence of books among the Franklin relics, had since died, and

that nobody knew what had become of the other. We determined to make

every effort to find the latter, for should he know where the books

were hidden, and be willing to conduct us there, our labor would have

been materially lessened. But in any case, whether we found him or not,

we had great faith that, by staying at least one season on King William

Land, when the snow was off the ground, we should be able to find the

records, and complete the history of Sir John Franklin's last

expedition.

[Map: LIEUT. SCHWATKA'S EXPED. to KING WILLIAM LAND to

Discover the Remains of the FRANKLIN EXPEDITION.]

CHAPTER II.

THE WINTER CAMP.

[Illustration: CAMP DALY IN SUMMER.]

Meanwhile we had need of patience. Our camp, which was in latitude 63

deg. 51 min. north and 90 deg. 26 min. 15 sec. west of Greenwich, had

been named by Lieutenant Schwatka after the president of the American

Geographical Society. The tents that had been provided for the

expedition proving quite inadequate for our wants, Captain Barry got

Armow (the Wolf), one of the most influential natives, to let us have

his tent, one that had been made by the crew of the brig 'A.

Houghton', memorable to us as the vessel on which Captain Barry

received his spoon. The Iwillie tribe moved up their tupics to the land

nearest Depot Island, so as to be near us; but finding they were a

considerable distance from any fresh water, moved again to the spot

where our stores were landed. We had bidden adieu to the officers and

crew of the 'Eothen', and had been rowed ashore by the Inuits. The

solitude of our first day on land was enlivened by the visit of a

ponderous young Natchilli, named Joe (or Natchilli Joe, to distinguish

him from Esquimau Joe). He promised to accompany us in the spring. He

was a fine-looking young man, with a big head, and a shock of

raven-black hair, as massive-looking as a lion, and with none of the

bloodthirsty look which I had been led to expect in the Natchilli

features. He had been living with the Iwillie tribe for about two

years, and they all liked him very much. We felt that it would tend to

assure our favorable reception by his tribe to have one or two of their

own people with our party.

Ten days after we landed all went to the hunting-grounds but Armow and

his party, who were to go in a boat, but it was so stormy that they did

not get off. When the others broke camp and started over the hills it

was a novel and interesting spectacle. Each one had his load, the

women, in addition to their other burdens, having to carry their

children upon their backs. Behind them came their dogs, staggering

under loads that almost hid them from view and getting into all kinds

of trouble among the rocks. They were accompanied by "Jerry," a native

for whom Esquimau Joe had a great liking. He took all his family except

his son Koumania, who had been given to me as a body-servant. Koumania

was an unusually bright, manly little fellow, and, though so young, had

already killed a reindeer. We were all much interested in him, and his

parents were much pleased that he had found favor with the Kodlunars.

His father was one of Captain Hall's party in his King William Land

journey, and was also to accompany us. He seemed like a good, honest,

faithful fellow, and had the reputation of being a first-class hunter.

Koumania came running to me, before his father's departure, with his

face covered with smiles and soapsuds, and I found that Frank had given

him some soap and told him I would like him better if he would wash.

Poor fellow! he had done the best he could, and had at any rate shown a

willing spirit.

[Illustration: ESQUIMAUX GOING TO THE HUNTING-GROUND.]

It was not until Wednesday that the boat party could get away. Most of

the time it rained and blew a perfect gale. We were then alone in the

camp, with the exception of a tupic, which contained one old man, two

old women, and three children. There were plenty of dogs, though, and

we had concerted music every night. I spent some time in making over

some civilized clothes for my boy. I had to take them in everywhere

except around the waist. There he was as big as I am, though I weigh

nearly two hundred pounds.

I returned from a hunting and exploring excursion Saturday night,

August 31, and had come to the conclusion by that time, after

satisfactory experience, that tuk-too hunting is not a pastime. It is

good, solid work from beginning to end, with no rest for the weary. If

any readers have meditated such a task as a divertisement, I would beg

to dissuade them from the undertaking, for they know not what they do.

Before attempting to follow tuk-too hunters over these hills and

valleys, I would advise a severe course of training. We started on the

morning of the 25th, in the midst of a strong gale, which had been

blowing all night from the north-west, and was bitter cold. It rained,

snowed, and hailed all at the same time, and the pelting hard stones

cut our faces nearly all the morning. The party consisted of "Sam,"

another of Joe's friends, his two younger brothers, Koumania, and

myself. I took a blanket and some little provisions, in case I should

be out over night. We walked along, without stopping, a distance of

about eight miles across the hardest country to travel over I had ever

seen, and when we halted to rest I was indeed tired. The rocks and

hills were hard enough to walk over, but the worst of all were the

moss-covered meadows. Your foot would sink at every step, and it was as

much like walking in loose, wet sand as anything with which I could

compare it. I wore native boots, or kummings, as they are called, for I

knew it would be impossible to get along with anything else; but the

sharp edges and points of the stones could be felt through them almost

as if one were barefooted. Do not think that the mossy meadows were a

relief after the rocks. On the contrary, they were but a delusion and a

snare, for beneath the velvet cushion was concealed the sharp and

jagged rock that cut the foot all the same, and proved a more deadly,

because a hidden foe. Though tired when I sat down to rest, I was more

so when I got up to walk again; but, ashamed of my weakness, I kept on,

gritting my teeth and determined to do or die.

It was getting late, and still we saw no deer--in fact, I was losing my

interest in deer very rapidly, and only hoped I might soon see a tupic.

After we had walked about fifteen miles, "Sam" pointed out a mountain

that did not seem so very far off, and said, "Io wunga tupic sellow"

(My tent is there). This was refreshing, and I plodded along still more

determinedly. I would have given anything to have been back in my own

tent, but that was out of the question. It was farther to go back than

to go ahead, and though every bone in my body ached I plodded along,

frequently stopping to rest. I thought we had passed the mountain that

"Sam" had pointed out, and finally I ventured to ask him where the

tupic was. His answer was invariably, "Con-i-tuk-vo-loo" (A little way),

and I began to weary of the monotony of the answer, as probably he did

of the question, until at last, in a valley farther off than I had

originally thought the mountain, I saw the tupic. The approach was by

a circuitous route, the wind still blowing so strongly against us that

each took his turn in leading, the others crouching behind the slight

shelter thus afforded. And this was a pleasure trip! When we finally

did reach the tent, I received the kindly welcome of old "Molasses"

and his wife, and dropped down on some deer-skins, completely used up.

The hunters were naturally hungry after their long walk, and from a

pile of fresh meat on the side of the tent "Sam" seized a large piece,

half cooked, and taking a vigorous bite, cut off the mouthful with his

disengaged hand and passed the rest to the one standing nearest him,

who helped himself in the same way, and thus it kept circulating until

it was all gone.

I awoke early the next morning, and went outside the tent and feebly

attempted to walk; but it was a most excruciating effort. My

hip-joints, that ached like a toothache the night before, now seemed

to be made of old rusty iron, and grated and shrieked when I tried to

move, as if they rebelled against it. I felt as if there was nothing

left for me to do but to walk the soreness off; therefore I kept

moving, though I was conscious that my step lacked its wonted firmness

and grace. After bathing in the lake that spread out in the valley in

front of the tupic, I returned to find the hunters ready for the day's

sport. I took up my rifle and started off with the hunters. Presently

the pain left my hips, or, more properly speaking, my feet got so sore

from the constant walking over sharp rocks that my mind was diverted

in that direction solely. While resting on the top of a high bluff

overlooking the lakes, I heard a faint "halloo," which seemed to come

on the wind from an immense distance. I called "Sam's" attention to it,

and he immediately dropped behind a rock, out of the wind, until it was

repeated several times, when saying, "Inuit ky-ete" (Somebody says

come), he started off down the steep mountain side in the direction

of the voice, and the boys and I followed him. We walked nearly

three-quarters of an hour before we finally saw the object of our

search, and then he appeared perched on a rock against the clear blue

sky, but still too far off to be recognized even by my hawk-eyed

guides. At last we were near enough to see that it was "Alex Taylor,"

one of the Inuits from our camp, who had left with the others for the

hunting-grounds. He had with him his wife and two children, one a babe

in the hood, and two bags packed with tupic and poles. He had a heavy

back-load of skins, and his wife another big bundle. They seemed both

surprised and pleased to see me. "Alex" told me that he had seen no

deer that day, but had previously shot nine, and that there were

"ama-suet" (plenty) farther on. He regaled us with some raw meat, and

honored me with a nice raw deer tongue, which I ate with great relish

after he had skinned it and eaten the skin.

After luncheon and a pipe, we gathered up the bundles and trudged along

until nearly sundown, when we arrived at a tupic under a cliff and

between two large lakes. Two young married women and an old palsied

crone came out to meet us. "Alex Taylor" told me that I was to stay

there all night. The next morning, after walking about nine or ten

miles without seeing anything in the way of game except some deer

tracks, we ascended a high bluff that had been on our right since

leaving camp, when, to my infinite delight, I saw a large river,

which "Alex," tracing the course with his finger, indicated as emptying

into a large bay near our camp, opposite Depot Island. Its course was

nearly straight for about three miles below and seven miles north of

where we stood; then, as my guide indicated with a wave of his hand,

flowed to the east and again to the south. It extended much farther to

the west and north, and from what I have since learned from the natives,

rises between the head of the Invich and Wager rivers, and is about

ninety-five miles in length. To the south and west of where we stood

it passed over a broad stony portage, and beyond that swelled out, as

do most of the rivers in this country, into a series of broad lakes

filled with islands.

This discovery appeared to me of inestimable value, as indicating an

entirely new and feasible route to King William Land, and, since my

return to camp, Esquimau Joe, who had been away with the hunters for

about three weeks, was here for a few hours, and told me that his

hunting-camp was on the east bank of this same river, and the inquiry

he has already made of the Inuits in his party confirmed my judgment of

the feasibility of this route. I named the river after Mr. Thomas B.

Connery, of New York.

We resumed our walk, turning back along the bank of the river, which on

the east side is high and almost perpendicular. We reached the portage,

about three miles to the south, and crossed over to the west side,

which is a low, rolling country, covered with moss, which at a distance

looked like sun-burned grass. The portage was nearly a quarter of a

mile wide, but by the exercise of some agility, where the current ran

most swiftly through the large rocks, we got over without wetting our

feet, and about a mile from the river bank stopped to rest on a rocky

eminence. "Alex" pointed vaguely in the direction of some hills about

two or three miles away, and said he thought there were some deer over

there; but as I had been walking three days now without seeing a deer,

and was desperately tired, I told him to go on if he wanted to, and

take my rifle, and I would wait till he came back. He trotted along,

and I sat under the lee of a rock, taking advantage of the opportunity

to write up my journal and trace the course of the river. In the

meantime the sun sank lower and lower, but no signs of "Alex Taylor."

About three hours after he left me he reappeared, with his hat in

his hand and a heavy bundle over his shoulder, trotting along so

nimbly that I envied him. He had shot two deer, a "cooney" and an

"isaacer"--that is, a doe and a buck--and he had their warm, bloody

skins on his back. He said that there were plenty of deer over there,

and to-morrow we would move the camp up to that spot. So we put the

skins and some tenderloin in a cairn, and covered it up with heavy

stones, and after eating some of the raw tenderloin we started for

home. It was long after dark when we reached there, and I was glad to

find Sam's tupic already up, with his old father and young mother, and

my blankets and a little package of salt, which I had missed very much

while eating so much raw meat.

The next day we broke camp at an early hour, and moved bag, and

baggage, to the place where "Alex Taylor" had shot the deer the

preceding afternoon. Notwithstanding my sore feet and tired limbs,

I took a load on my shoulders out of sheer shame, for without that

I would have been the only one, old or young, biped or quadruped,

without something, so I made a martyr of myself. Just after leaving the

spot where "Alex" and I had cached the skins yesterday afternoon, "Sam"

dropped his burden from his shoulders, grasped his rifle, and, with the

single word "tuk-too," started over the country on a run. Three others

joined him, and the rest of us kept on until we reached the lake, where

our new camp was to be located. The tents were soon put up, and the

boys started off to carry in the two carcasses that "Alex" had shot and

buried under stones. Presently the hunters who went off with "Sam" came

back, saying they had seen nothing, and later "Sam" came in with the

skin of a big buck which he had shot. He is quite young, but one of the

best and most indefatigable hunters in the tribe.

I went out in the morning with "Sam" and "Roxy" to find some deer.

After some wanderings, in which "Sam" got separated from us, and after

several unsuccessful shots at the game, "Roxy" and I returned, I being

too weary and footsore to find much interest in the sport, especially

as it began to rain and was bitter cold. In fact, the first new ice I

have seen this summer was around the shores of the lake that morning,

and I had to break it when I went down to bathe. On our way home we

passed, on the top of a high, barren hill, a cairn, which "Roxy" at

once said had been built by the Kinnepatoos, a tribe which formerly

occupied these lands, and the boys soon threw aside the stones to find

the dried-up skeleton of a deer killed many years ago. "Sam" did not

get back until dark, but he brought with him the skin of an isaacer

that he had killed since he left us.

That night I proposed to "Sam" to bring me down to our tent at the salt

water, and though I could see that he did not relish leaving the good

hunting-grounds just as he had reached them, he consented, and finally

seemed delighted when I promised him an old pair of pantaloons for his

trouble. "Alex Taylor" also came to the tupic and said he would

accompany us, and this made the prospect more cheerful, as I knew it

would be at least two days' hard travelling. During the night we were

visited by a severe thunder-storm, which frightened my tent-mates

because unused to it, and they lighted an ikomer to take the sharp edge

off the lightning; but I slept on peacefully while "Old Molasses" held

a stick so that the shadow kept the light of the lamp from my eyes. It

stopped raining toward morning, but it was still chilly and damp when

we started, shortly after daylight, on our long journey.

"Sam" and "Alex" again got separated from us in pursuit of deer, and I

became so chilly that we gave up waiting for them to rejoin us, and

moved on. At last we could see Picciulok, as the natives call Depot

Island, but it was at a considerable distance, and it was getting late.

The sun was then below the horizon, and we hastened along to get sight

of some familiar ground; but, alas! at every hill-top Picciulok seemed

as far, if not farther off, and finally we could not see it all, it was

so dark. My guides knew they were lost, and wanted to lie down until

morning, but I kept them up, for I could see the stars and could keep

the right course; but the walking was terrible. My feet were now so

sensitive that I could feel every sharp stone through the soles of my

kummings, and the stony portages between the lakes and over the little

indentations of the coast seemed to increase in number all the time. It

was so dark that I could not see where to step, and my feet would slip

down and wedge in the angle between the sharp stones, or the point of a

rock would come right in the hollow of my foot, until I stumbled and

floundered and almost screamed with pain. And yet no familiar

landmarks. I began to despair, or rather to doubt my physical ability

to proceed, when the sharp-eyed Netchuk called my attention to the

light from a tupic at a considerable distance, and a little to our

right. This was indeed refreshing, so we kept on as well as we could,

though we often fell, and I staggering with a strained cord in one foot

and the skin worn off the sole of the other. But there were the lights

ahead, and we kept right straight for them, though no matter how far we

walked they seemed just the same distance off. It was certainly

discouraging, and I could not help thinking of the will-o'-the-wisp,

and wondering if the phenomenon was ever seen in the Arctic. I could

not remember any instance in my reading, and determined to reach that

light or perish in the effort. At last it did seem nearer. We could

make out the shapes of the tents, and finally we could hear dogs

barking and snarling, and before long we were there. We found the

lights in the tupics that were occupied by the old folks left behind at

Camp Daly by the hunters, and found "Alex Taylor," "Sam," and the boy

had just got in; so, after learning that "Alex" had killed two deer

with my gun, "Sam" and Koumania and I went up to our own tent, which

was dark.

[Illustration: A CAIRN.]

These were our diversions. Our business was to inquire into the truth

of Captain Barry's story. Pursuing our investigation through the next

three months, we learned that there had never been other than three

families of Natchillis living with the Iwillik Esquimaux. One of those,

the native who had died in the preceding winter, was an aged paralytic

called "Monkey," whose tongue was so affected that even his own people

could scarcely understand him. The second was Natchilli Joe, known to

his own people as Ekeeseek, who was a child in his mother's hood at the

time when he lived on King William Land, and only knew the story of the

Franklin expedition from hearsay. The third, Nu-tar-ge-ark, a man of

about forty-five or fifty years of age, gave us valuable information.

His father, many years ago, opened a cairn on the northern shore of

Washington Bay, in King William Land, and took from it a tin box

containing a piece of paper with some writing on it. Not far from this

same spot were the ruins of a cairn which had been built by white men

and torn down by Inuits. The cairn had been built upon a large flat

stone, which had the appearance of having been dragged to its present

location from a stony point near by. The cairn itself was found to be

empty, but it was generally believed by the Inuits that there was

something buried beneath this stone. It was very heavy, and as they had

only been there in parties of two or three at a time, they had never

been able to overturn the stone, though they had repeatedly tried.

Nutargeark also said he had brought a spoon with him from King William

Land, which corresponded in description with the one Barry took to the

United States. He said it was given to him by some of his tribe, and

that it had come from one of the boat places, or where skeletons had

been found on King William Land or Adelaide Peninsula, he could not

remember exactly where. He had not given the spoon to Captain Barry,

but to the wife of Sinuksook, an Iwillik Esquimau, who afterward gave

it to a Captain Potter. We saw Sinuksook's wife a little later, and she

distinctly remembered having given the spoon to Captain Potter. It was

necessary, therefore, to find this officer.

[Illustration: CAIRN MARKING DEPOSIT OF PROVISIONS.]

During the first week in January, 1879, we learned that he was

wintering at Marble Island, being now second in command on the whaler

'Abbie Bradford'. So Henry Klutschak and I made our way to Marble

Island, with the first sled that had crossed from the main-land, being

eight days on the road from Depot Island. We had reason to believe that

Captain Barry and the 'Eothen' would also be at our destination,

and that we could there replenish our stores. The trip was uneventful,

except that when four days out I ran out of food through sharing my

hard bread and pork with the natives, of whom there were twelve on my

sled. They had plenty of tepee walrus meat, which was good food for

them, but which I could not at that time eat. So for four days I had

not a mouthful to eat, though I walked and ran nearly the whole

distance travelled. I did not experience much inconvenience from

weakness until the last day, which was that on which we came across the

ice from Little Rabbit Island. When nearly half-way over, and moving

rapidly over the new ice, the sled on which I was seated broke through,

and all its occupants were precipitated into the water. The front part

of the sled still hung by the ice, which bent beneath its weight. When

I was struggling to get out the ice kept breaking off in huge cakes,

and my clothing getting heavier and heavier all the time, I began to

think that I would not be able to save myself; but at last I succeeded

in rolling out upon the hard ice, and turning around to see if my help

was needed in rescuing the women and children, found them already

safely landed on the floe. The thermometer ranging thirty-eight degrees

below zero, we were not long standing in the wind before our clothes

were frozen stiff, so that it was almost impossible to bend a limb.

We succeeded in getting the sled out again, and started once more for

Marble Island. I went ahead to pick out a route for the sled, and again

the treacherous ice gave way under me, and I sank below the surface. It

was with great difficulty that I regained the firm ice, and by this

time my clothing was so heavy and stiff that I had to take off my

outside tocklings, or trousers, in order to walk at all. It was now

about ten o'clock in the morning, and in half an hour we reached about

two miles distant from the island, but only to find an impassable

channel of open water from a quarter to half a mile wide. We could see

some one walking upon the shore of the island, but could hold no

conversation with him. The natives who were with me said that when the

tide turned perhaps the channel might close, and they proposed to wait;

but in the meantime I was afraid I might freeze to death unless I kept

moving. In the course of a few hours, during which I found out that I

could not get back to Rabbit Island before dark, I became so faint for

the want of food that I had to get some tepee walrus from the natives,

and I ate it with a keen appetite. It did not taste as badly as I

anticipated, so I ate a quantity, including some pieces of hide, about

three quarters of an inch thick, which was cut into small pieces and

looked like cheese. After eating several pieces I thought I would bite

off the outside rind, which, on closer examination, I noticed to be the

short stiff hair of the animal which I had been eating. Presently I

began to feel warm all over my body, despite my frozen clothing--a

condition attributable partly to the peculiar qualities of frozen food,

and partly perhaps to the rasping in my interior, produced by the stiff

walrus hair that I had eaten. It was now nearly dark, but we could see

that the ice-floes were coming together, and crunching up a pudge of

soft ice between them. At last the men started out over this pudge,

stepping quickly from one piece of moving ice to another, until at last

we reached firm footing again, though only by the exercise of

considerable agility and looking sharply to where you went. It was a

great relief to be again upon the shore; but we were still a

considerable distance from the ships, and the Inuits proposed to lie

down on the snow until daylight, as they could not see and did not know

the route. I was afraid to stop moving, and proposed to keep walking in

the direction of the harbor. All who came ashore, therefore, started

with us; but the road at last became so difficult that I felt it

necessary to rest quite often, wearied as I already was by previous

hardships.

The route chosen by our guide was to follow the shore ice around until

the harbor was reached. This was a very circuitous and dangerous road,

as in the darkness one would frequently pitch headlong over a steep

precipice upon the snow beneath. My trousers were so stiff that I could

not bend my knee or lift my foot high enough to clear ordinary

impediments, and I fell very often. It was fortunate for me that I

never fell upon the shore ice beneath the cliff, for in many places it

was very deep, and I could not see where I trod. When I commenced

falling I never knew where I would alight, though I usually brought up

in some friendly snow-drift. At last all the Inuits grew so impatient

to reach the ships that they left Henry and me to find our way as best

we could, and pushed on as rapidly as their better vision and greater

familiarity with the country would permit. In half an hour from the

time they left us they had reached the harbor; but with their

accustomed indifference to the comfort of others they failed to

say that two "kodlunars" (white men) were still out upon the

island--one of them too weak and frozen to keep up with them. As soon

as the officers learned the fact from them, Captain Barry despatched

"Domino," one of the natives with his ship, to find us and bring us

to the vessel. We saw a lantern which he carried, and, coming down from

the cliff upon the smooth ice, were overjoyed to find ourselves in the

harbor and but a few hundred yards from the ships. We shouted at the

top of our voices, and "Domino" ran at once to us. I never was so glad

to see any one in my life, for I felt that the terrible ordeal through

which I had passed was at an end. We were soon in the warm cabin of the

'Eothen', where my frozen garments were removed and warm, dry

"kodlunar" clothing substituted. Were it not for the previous

training we had undergone in igloo life, I could not have survived the

hardships of that day. As it was, I felt very little inconvenience,

except from a severe cold, which always follows a change such as moving

from an igloo into the heated air on shipboard. My appetite was

enormous, and it seemed as if I could not eat enough of the generous

fare of our hosts. I soon regained my usual robust health, and gained

flesh at the rate of a pound a day for three weeks.

In the harbor, besides the 'Eothen', and the 'Abbie Bradford', the

latter commanded by Captain Fisher, we found the 'Abbott Lawrence',

Captain Mozier, and the 'Isabella', Captain Garvin, all except the

'Eothen' being from New Bedford. The ships were all comfortably housed

with boards, and so banked up with snow that ordinary coal fires made

them uncomfortably warm. It was painful to see, however, that scurvy had

broken out in the fleet, and each vessel has had an average of half a

dozen cases during our stay with them. They had more than the usual

amount of fresh meat at this season, and it was difficult to account for

the unusually large percentage of scurvy, unless Captain Fisher's theory

were the correct one. He attributed it to the unusual severity of the

fall and early winter-season, which, he said, was unprecedented in his

experience of over fourteen years in these waters. The ships were driven

into winter quarters nearly a month previous to the usual time by a

succession of gales and heavy weather, which occasioned the loss of one

vessel of the fleet--the brig 'A. J. Ross' of New Bedford, Captain

Sinclair, which went ashore near Cape Kendall, on the eastern coast of

Rowe's Welcome during the latter part of August. Though scurvy had been

so prevalent it had not been so severe as usual, and as yet the graveyard

on "Deadmen's Island," on the outer harbor, had received no accession

from the crews. The successful treatment of the disease seems to be to

compel the patient to eat abundantly of raw walrus or seal meat, and to

take moderate exercise, at first under shelter and then in the open

air.

[Illustration: THE SHIPS IN WINTER QUARTERS.]

The officers of the vessels treated us with the most unbounded

generosity, and readily placed at our disposal whatever they could

spare that we required. The wreck of the 'A. J. Ross' had thrown

the care of another crew upon them, and yet they could find plenty to

add to the comfort of those who have another season in this climate and

a long and severe journey before them. Captain Sinclair, though himself

so great a sufferer by the loss of a vessel in which nearly his whole

means were invested, had been a large contributor toward the search

party. They expected to be frozen in here till about the 1st of June,

when they could saw a channel through the ice to the clear water beyond

Deadmen's Island. Marble Island has been the winter quarters of whaling

vessels for many years, though not altogether a safe harbor. In the

winter of 1872 two vessels were wrecked here, the 'Ansel Gibbs'

and the 'Oray Taft'. The hulk of the latter still lay upon the

shore of the inner harbor, but the 'Ansel Gibbs' broke up outside

and had long since gone to pieces. The graves of a number of their

crews are in the graveyard by the sea. Upon the bald face of a rock

near the outside harbor is a list of names written in red paint nearly

a century ago; but whether a visitor's list or a gigantic tombstone to

record those who perished here long ago by shipwreck is unknown. Upon

the north-east end of the island, partly hidden by moss, is a quantity

of soft coal, which was probably left here by one of the early Arctic

explorers.

The loss of so many vessels in these waters is chiefly attributable to

the imperfections in the admiralty charts. The coast line is altogether

wrong, and Marble Island is laid down several degrees west of its

actual position. Lieutenant Schwatka and Henry Klutschak made careful

surveys from Cape Fullerton to the island, and made a chart which has

already proved useful to the whalers.

But our more immediate business was with Captain Potter. I asked him if

he remembered Captain Barry's getting a Franklin spoon while with him

on the 'Glacier', and he said he had never heard anything about it

until he read in the newspapers that Barry had sent one to Sir John

Franklin's niece, Miss Craycroft, which surprised him very much. He

further said that he (Potter) had received three spoons at that time,

one of which mysteriously disappeared shortly afterward. The published

description of Barry's spoon corresponded exactly with the one he had

lost, even to its being broken off near the bowl and mended with

copper, as was the one he had received from Sinuksook's wife. Captain

Potter further said, that to one who had lived with the Esquimaux, and

acquired the pigeon English they use in communicating with the whalers

in Hudson's Bay, and contrasted it with the language they use in

conversation with each other, the assertion of Captain Barry, that he

overheard them talking about books and understood them, was supremely

ridiculous. There is probably no white man in the Arctic, or who ever

visited it, that would understand them under such circumstances unless

it be one or two in Cumberland, who have lived with them for fifteen or

twenty years.

In this crucible of fact the famous spoon melted. So far as Captain

Barry and his clews were concerned, we had come on a fool's errand.

CHAPTER III.

OUR DOGS.

There being no cairn, as a matter of course there was no guide to

conduct us to it; but instead of returning to New York from Camp Daly,

as he would have been justified in doing, Lieutenant Schwatka

determined to make the summer search in King William Land, in order to

find the records, if possible; or, at any rate to so conduct the search

as to make it final and conclusive of the Franklin expedition.

Lieutenant Schwatka was much impressed with the statements made by

Nutargeark, especially as this native's intelligence and veracity were

tested by his pointing out correctly upon the map the location of

cairns which he had seen, including one at Cape Herschel, built by

Dease and Simpson in 1839, and the spot where McClintock saw a boat

with skeletons. Both Hall and McClintock account for the fact of so few

bodies being found, by the presumption that Captain Crozier and his men

followed the shore ice down, and, dying there, fell through into the

water when the ice melted during the summer. Nutargeark, however, said

that there were plenty of bodies lying upon the ground on King William

Land, which would be invisible in winter from being covered with snow.

To verify these statements was the purpose of our journey.

The first thing necessary was to get dogs enough for our teams. To that

end I made a visit to the land of the Kinnepatoos, which is about

seventy miles west and north from Marble Island. I found them in

igloos, upon a large lake on the western shore of Hudson Bay, and was

the first white man who had been there. Many of this tribe had never

seen a white man before, but all were exceedingly friendly. I found

that they had but few available dogs, but succeeded in securing from

them several fine animals by the exchange of ammunition, tobacco, and

matches, which are the staples of trade with these people. I found

their igloos to be much larger and better built than those of

the northern natives. The entrance would usually be by a narrow

passage-way, excavated from a snow-drift, six to eight feet below the

surface, and perhaps twenty-five or thirty feet long. They had no

fires for heating the igloos, and, consequently, there was a clammy,

vault-like atmosphere indoors that was anything but pleasant. They use

oil only for light, and, even in the depth of winter, cook what little

food they do not eat raw with moss. As I approached the village I was

walking ahead of my guides, who were with the sled. It was getting

late, and we were endeavoring to trace the direction by following the

tracks on the snow which covered the lake; but a high wind, which was

blowing from the north, had nearly obliterated all signs and rendered

the task a difficult one. Presently, however, I heard the barking of

dogs and the voices of a number of children, who soon appeared

approaching over a hill on the right bank of the lake, beyond which the

village was built. I hastened toward them, and was shortly conducted

into an igloo where all the men were seated, tailor fashion, around

bones which showed that justice had been done to a hearty repast of

frozen deer meat. They extended a rude but cordial welcome, and

hospitably inquired if I was hungry; but as I had recently eaten a

quantity of frozen salmon I declined further food. I had long ago

learned to relish fish and meat which they call "topee," and which

civilized people denominate "rotten". When frozen it does not taste

any worse than some kinds of cheese smell, and is a strong and

wholesome diet unless eaten in great quantities. It fortifies the

system against cold, and, shortly after eating, causes a healthy

glow of warmth to pervade the body, even in the coldest weather. I can

now eat almost anything an Esquimau can, and almost as much. Though

the weather during the four days of my journey out was intensely

cold--the thermometer ranging from thirty to sixty degrees below zero

most of the time, with a strong wind blowing--I did not suffer with

the cold, except that my nose and cheeks would occasionally freeze. In

fact, if I had no nose I believe I could stand the cold nearly as well

as the natives. Even they are constantly freezing their noses and

cheeks, and there seems to be no way of avoiding this very

disagreeable contingency.

I was with the Kinnepatoos a week, during which I lived upon frozen

meat and fish, and enjoyed myself studying their habits and customs.

Every night they met in one large igloo, twenty-five feet in diameter

at the base, and twelve feet high, where the men would play upon the

ki-lowty while the women sung in unison. The ki-lowty is a drum, made

by stretching a thin deerskin over a huge wooden hoop, with a short

handle on one side. In playing, the man grasps the handle with his left

hand, and constantly turns it, while he strikes it upon the wooden

side, alternately, with a wooden drumstick shaped like a potato-masher.

With each blow he bends his knees, and though there are various degrees

of skill in playing, I have never yet learned to be critical. I can

only see a difference in style. Some are dramatic, some classical, some

furious and others buffo. The song is a monotonous, drawling wail, with

which the drumming has no sort of connection, for it increases and

diminishes in rapidity according to the pleasure or strength of the

player. I am sure a concert, such as I witnessed nightly, would cause a

sensation in New York, though I do not believe it would prove a lasting

attraction to cultivated audiences. I frequently got very weary of it,

and often slept during the performance without giving offence to my

hosts by my lack of appreciation. One night the entertainment was

varied by a dramatic performance that was exceedingly interesting.

There were three players, who walked about the arena and conversed,

occasionally passing off the stage, not by the right and left, but

stooping down and darting in and out of the door of the igloo, an

entrance two feet high and about the same width. As nearly as I could

understand, while outside in the dark the players saw some supernatural

horror, which on entering they would endeavor to explain to the

audience; but words failing to convey all they felt, they resorted to

pantomime, until at last one, who was more affected than the others,

came in and expired in the arms of his comrades. I was intensely

interested during this novel performance, and imagined I recognized

considerable histrionic ability on the part of the players.

[Illustration: ESQUIMAU PLAYING THE KI-LOWTY.]

During the daytime those men who were not out hunting engaged

in playing a game somewhat allied to gambling, which they call

"nu-glew-tar." A small piece of bone is suspended from the

roof by a line made of walrus hide, and a heavy weight dangles below

it to keep it from swinging. The bone is pierced with four small holes,

and the players, as many as choose to engage, stand around, armed with

sharp sticks, with which they jab at the bone, endeavoring to pierce

one of the holes. Some one starts the game by offering a prize, which

is won by him who pierces the bone and holds it with his stick. The

winner in turn offers something for the others to try for. It is

perfectly fair, because unless one wins it costs him nothing. They are

very fond of this game, and play almost incessantly. Another similar

game is played by placing a prize in a bowl made out of a musk-ox

skull, the players standing in a circle around the bowl, which is then

set twirling rapidly. The one toward whom the handle points when the

bowl stops moving is the winner, and replaces the prize with another.

This game, like nu-glew-tar, has no end, and the players only stop when

they get hungry and adjourn to eat. The men all dine together in one

igloo, no women being allowed to be present, and generally demolish

the whole of a carcass of reindeer at a meal. This may be called their

dinner, but when they have plenty of food on hand they eat nearly all

the time. In the morning, before getting out of bed, they eat; and at

night, after getting into bed, or "sin-nek-pig," as they call

it, they eat. A few whiffs from a pipe are always in order, and

especially so after eating. The pipe is passed from mouth to mouth,

without regard to any foolish civilized notions of cleanliness. Eating

frozen fish or meat always makes one cold at first, but presently warm.

So always, after eating the mid day repast, the men pull their hoods

over their heads, draw their arms out of their sleeves and cross

them over their warm, naked breasts, and wait patiently and in silence

for the heated term to ensue; but during the silent period they

resemble a group of mummies, and are about as cheerful. When they begin

to feel warm their spirits rise, and they are soon like a parcel of

good-natured children. When their stomachs are full they are contented

and happy. The principal diet of the Kinnepatoos is deer meat, as that

of the Iwilliehs is walrus and seal.

I left the Kinnepatoo village, returning to Marble Island in two days'

journey, though it took me four days to go. I returned by a shorter

route, and travelled after the sun had gone down, the moon affording

sufficient light to see our way. On my return I discovered another

large lake between the one on which the Esquimau village was located

and the salt-water ice. This smaller lake is probably twelve miles long

and from two to four miles wide. The larger one is about forty-five

miles long and fourteen wide at the widest point. It is known among the

natives as "The Big Lake," and with the approval of Lieutenant Schwatka

I named it Brevoort Lake, after Mr. James Carson Brevoort, of Brooklyn,

N. Y., whose deep interest in Arctic research was felt by this as well

as other expeditions. The other lake I named after General Hiram

Duryea, of Glen Cove, a warm personal friend and comrade in arms, who

was also a contributor toward the expedition. On my way back to Marble

Island, instead of following the shore ice along to the narrow place

where the pack is choked between Rabbit and Marble islands, I struck

off in nearly a direct line for our destination, crossing most of the

distance over the thin new ice. The advantage in this route was that,

besides being much shorter, the ice was free from snow, and the dogs

could run at nearly full speed. To be sure it was open to the objection

of being dangerous; but moving as rapidly as we did there was scarcely

time for the sled to break through, though the water oozed up along the

track of the sled as we sped swiftly over the surface of smooth thin

ice. It was pretty venturesome, perhaps, and I might be excused if I

was nervous, for twice before I had broken through on a sled and bathed

in the waters of Hudson's Bay. But I was anxious to reach the ships and

finish what work I had to do, so as to get back to Depot Island in time

to have all the dogs well fed before starting upon our long journey.

I should here say that the dogs of Hudson's Bay and contiguous

territory do not resemble those usually pictured in the illustrated

editions of Arctic works, which are the Greenland dogs. From what I

gather by reading of the performances of the dogs in Greenland and

North-eastern Asia, and comparing them with our experience in Hudson's

Bay, I should judge the animals from the latter country to be

immeasurably the superior in endurance and pluck, though perhaps

inferior in speed for one or two days' travel. When food is plentiful

the dogs are fed every other day while travelling; but if living in

camp once in ten or twelve days is considered enough, and often twenty

days will intervene between meals. Not but that they pick up a trifle

now and then, and by a raid on an igloo will secure meat enough to last

for several days. Their mode of life forces upon them the character of

thieves, and all their waking moments are devoted to the one object of

making a raid. Whether it be on the meat in the igloo or the

storehouse, or the bag of blubber for the lamps, or the seal-skin

clothing, it is all the same. They know from experience that the

severest penalty will be enforced as a punishment for their offence but

to them the pleasure of theft and the exquisite bliss of greasing their

stomachs with a slice of blubber outweighs every other consideration.

Too often have they felt the cruel snow-stick across their defenceless

heads, and the sting of the long-lashed whip cutting a morsel of flesh

at each blow, to doubt the quality of their reception, and the howl of

pain as they start upon the grand rush is in anticipation of the end. A

raid can sometimes be brought to an end with a good stout club that

will knock a dog senseless at each blow; but there is nothing like the

ip-er-ow-ter, the Esquimau dog whip, to bring them to their senses. The

ip-er-ow-ter has a handle made of wood, bone, or reindeer horn, about

twelve or eighteen inches long, and a lash from eighteen to thirty feet

in length. The lash is of seal-skin or oak-jook, that part of the thong

near the handle being plaited or doubled to stiffen it, or give a

spring that adds materially to its usefulness.

The men acquire considerable dexterity in the use of this whip, the

lash of which is thrown forward or back with a quick turn of the wrist.

That portion of the lash near the handle strikes the ground first, and

then the long seal-skin thong unwinds, gaining rapidity and strength as

the end is reached, and this strikes with such force as to make the

snow fly, and with a report like a pistol. It is not a handy implement,

for it requires time to get in position to swing the long lash. First

it is thrown back, and then forward--this time for execution; and it is

no unusual thing to see a dog with an eye gone or a piece of ear

missing--a witness to the power of the ip-er-ow-ter in the practised

hand of the Esquimau dog driver. Even the boys are quite skilful in the

use of the whip, and dog driving is taught them almost from infancy.

The driver sits on the front part of the sled or runs alongside, the

long lash of the whip trailing behind him on the snow, so that when

occasion occurs calling for the administering of punishment it is

already in the proper position for delivering the blow.

The first effect of the whip is to retard the sled. The dog that is

struck invariably draws back, and then usually pitches upon his

neighbor, and for a while there is a row that threatens the sled with

stoppage. The driver usually takes advantage of this occasion to

administer a general chastisement, each dog receiving a share of the

punishment, whether guilty of insubordination or not. The Esquimau

theory is, that if not deserving of the whip this time he would be

before long, and so might as well receive it now as any time.

The dogs are attached to the sled by harness made of either reindeer or

seal-skin. One loop passes around the neck, while each leg is lifted

through a loop, all three loops joining over the back and fastened to a

long seal-skin line. These lines are of different lengths, so as to

allow the dogs to pull to greater advantage than if all the traces were

of the same length, causing the dogs to spread out like a fan. At every

few miles the traces have to be unloosened and extricated from the most

abominable tangle that it is possible to conceive. This comes from a

habit the dogs have of constantly running under and over the other

traces to avoid the whip, or in some cases merely from a spirit of pure

deviltry.

The leader of the team is a dog selected for his intelligence, and is

one known as setting an example of constant industry under all

circumstances. You will always see the leader of a team of dogs working

as if the load was being drawn by him alone. He goes along, his head

bent over and tugging in his harness, his mouth open and tongue lolling

out, while his ears are ever ready to hear the word of command from the

driver. To go to the left, the command is given, "Ah'-root," and to the

right, "Why-ah'-wah-ha." Then he sometimes, to encourage or urge to

greater exertion, says, "Ah-wah-hagh-oo-ar." To stop the team he says

"Woah," as one says when driving horses. It is the noisiest method of

travel yet invented, for the driver is constantly talking to his team,

calling each by name, and usually following the word with a blow of the

whip, so that the next time that dog is spoken to, he will understand

that it means "hurry up." The conversation with a dog team is

incessant, and the work of the driver is not confined to his team

alone. He has to constantly keep watch over the front of the sled, to

turn it to the right or left in order to avoid hummocks or stones that

would upset the load or tear the ice from the bottom of the runners.

Inuits are fond of riding on the sled while travelling, and as long as

there is a spot that would hold one they will pile up there. But should

there be no place for them, they will run alongside without apparent

discomfort for almost any length of time or distance. This is equally

true of the children of both sexes, and when any are compelled to walk,

for lack of dogs or of room on the sled, it is the women and girls who

have to give way to the men and boys. With a light sled, and from nine

to fifteen good strong dogs, the Esquimaux of North Hudson's Bay will

sometimes make a journey of from eighty to one hundred miles during the

long days of spring. A light sled has reference to one with nothing on

it except the skins for the beds, a lamp and small quantity of oil,

with not more than one or two days' rations of food. The same number of

dogs will drag a sled, with about fifteen hundred pounds of load, at

the rate of three or four miles an hour over the smooth salt-water ice

and snow. When travelling with light sleds all the party ride, except

when necessary to run for the purpose of getting warm. In travelling,

and especially when starting from a halt, some one runs ahead of the

team so as to get them to pull together. When the sleds are heavily

loaded the start is effected in the same way, and the driver, gathering

the reins in his hands, pulls back with all his might until he sees

every dog straining against his collar, when he lets go his hold and

all spring forward together.

It often happens that there are not a sufficient number of dogs, or

that they are poor and unable to travel with sufficient rapidity, and

then the people have to put on harness and help. First the women and

children engage in this labor, and, lastly, the men. And the drivers

will sit on the sled and smoke, with the utmost composure, while their

wives and daughters are tugging in the harness. The women do not mind

this treatment, for they are accustomed to it and look upon it as the

proper thing. In the summer the Esquimaux use their dogs while

travelling as pack animals, and a stranger would be astonished to see

what loads these dogs will carry. I have seen a fine large dog that

would carry two saddles of reindeer meat, or the entire fore-quarters

of two reindeer. His back would be bent low beneath the burden he bore,

but still he would struggle along, panting the while and regarding his

master with a look of the deepest affection whenever he came near him

yet ever ready to fight any other dog that got in his way.

These, then, were the faithful comrades of our march. Before the day

appointed by Lieutenant Schwatka they were ready. We were all eager to

start. The projected journey was one which more than one expedition had

undertaken without success since Sir Leopold McClintock's memorable

sledge journey, which accomplished so much, and left so much to be

desired. We were determined to bring it to a successful issue. Our

igloo life at Camp Daly during the previous winter had inured us to the

climate, so that, though we often found the cold intensely

disagreeable, we were free from the evil consequences that have

assailed many expeditions and make Arctic travel so dangerous, though

few have been exposed to such low temperature as was our party,

especially during the return trip in the winter of 1879-80. Previous

sledge journeys had taught us how to clothe ourselves and otherwise

provide against the cold, and we had already become acquainted with

Inuit fare, so that when the emergency arrived when we were compelled

to subsist entirely upon such food, we did not regard it with that

repugnance that those would who had not become accustomed to it. In

other words, we had become thoroughly acclimated during the eight

months we had already lived in the country.

CHAPTER IV.

IN THE SLEDGES.

It was eleven o'clock on the morning of the 1st of April when the three

heavily laden sledges moved out from Camp Daly on to the shore ice of

Hudson's Bay, and commenced the long march toward King William Land.

Lieutenant Schwatka's preliminary sledge journey in the direction of

Wager River, during midwinter, had determined him upon taking that

route, though across land entirely unknown either to previous explorers

or to any natives with whom we had come in contact. Whether we would

find practicable watercourses, such as rivers and lakes, or whether

mountain ranges would oppose their granite walls to farther progress,

was yet to be ascertained. Its recommendation was that it was the most

direct course, and whatever obstacles it might present would, when

overcome, always leave us that much nearer our goal. As we reached the

smooth salt-water ice, we turned to take a last look at Camp Daly,

which had been so long our home--a comfortless dwelling-place indeed,

but for all that a home--and I never expect to lose a feeling of

affection for its barren rocks and forbidding scenery. Its snow-clad

hills were almost hidden behind the hummocks that everywhere bound the

shore and make it a difficult undertaking to get on or off the ice at

low tide. The loaded sledges were making but slow progress as they

wound through the rough ice, but greatly enlivened the landscape, which

at other times is dreary and monotonous in the extreme. The drivers, by

voice and whip, were urging on their teams; while the dogs made the

wilderness ring with howls of pain or impatience. The men were bending

their shoulders to the task, as the women and children walked ahead and

coaxed the dogs to greater exertion. It was not difficult, as we looked

upon this picture, to realize that we were at least under way, and the

work for which we had renounced the comforts of civilization for so

long a period had at last begun, and our spirits rose with the prospect

of action.

[Illustration: CAMP DALY IN WINTER.]

It was not Lieutenant Schwatka's intention to make a long march this

day, but to break loose from camp and get well straightened out on our

course. Our direction was due east until we reached Winchester Inlet,

where we turned north-north-west and took up our line of march upon the

frozen waters of the newly-named Connery River. The sun was setting

when we halted about ten miles from Camp Daly and built two igloos, one

of which was occupied by Toolooah's family and the four white men, the

other by the remainder of the party. After the first night, however,

there were always three igloos, Joe and Ishmark, his father-in-law,

building a separate one for themselves and their families. There was at

first some dissatisfaction manifested by the Inuits of the party at the

determination of our commander to move always with the entire outfit,

whenever practicable, and never to make portages or, in other words,

transport a portion of the loads ahead before moving on with the

remainder, unless absolutely forced so to do, and experience

demonstrated the wisdom of his decision. Inuits always prefer to move

by portages when they have heavy loads and plenty of food on the

sledges, and such had been the custom on all the previous sledge

journeys made by "Esquimau Joe" in company with white men. He

particularly was anxious to travel in that way, but Lieutenant Schwatka

was resolute, and many days and many dogs were saved to us thereby.

The party was composed of four white men, Lieutenant Frederick

Schwatka, United States Army, commander; W. H. Gilder, second in

command; Henry W. Klutschak, and Frank Melms, with thirteen Inuits, as

follows: "Esquimau Joe," interpreter; Neepshark, his wife; Toolooah,

dog driver and hunter; Toolooahelek, his wife, and one child; Equeesik

(Natchillik Inuit), dog driver and hunter; Kutcheenuark, his wife, and

one child; Ishmark, Karleko, his wife, Koomana, their son, aged about

thirteen, and Mit-colelee and Owanork, Equeesik's brothers, aged

respectively about twenty and thirteen. The sleds were drawn by

forty-two dogs, accumulated by hard work, persistent effort, and

overpowering liberality with regard to guns, ammunition, and other

articles of trade. The loads aggregated about five thousand pounds

on the day of starting; but a large part of this consisting of walrus

meat, both for dogs and people they were materially lightened from day

to day. Our provisions besides the walrus meat comprised--

Hard bread 500 Lbs.

Pork 200 Lbs.

Compressed corned-beef 200 Lbs.

Corn starch 80 Lbs.

Oleomargarine 40 Lbs.

Cheese 40 Lbs.

Coffee 40 Lbs.

Tea 5 Lbs.

Molasses 20 Lbs.

This, it will be seen, is only about one month's rations of civilized

food for seventeen people, and was, in fact, nearly exhausted by the

time we reached King William Land. Our main dependence was, therefore,

the game of the country through which we were travelling; a contingency

upon which we had calculated and were willing to rely, having full

faith in the superior quality of the arms and ammunition with which we

had been so liberally equipped by American manufacturers. It is well

for us that our faith was well founded, for there can scarcely be a

doubt that it was this that made our expedition possible. In all other

respects we were probably in a much worse condition than any previous

expedition; but the quality of our arms put us at once upon a footing

to derive all the benefit possible from the game of the country, a

benefit of which we availed ourselves, as the unparalleled score of 522

reindeer, besides musk oxen, polar bears and seals will show. This is

what was killed by our party from the time we left Camp Daly until our

return. The quality of our provisions was excellent, and it was only

deficient in quantity. The Inuit shared our food with us as long as it

lasted, and, indeed, that was one of the inducements to accompany us on

the journey. Some of the compressed corned-beef, corn starch, and

cheese was reserved for the use of detached search parties on King

William Land, as being the most condensed form of nutriment among our

stores, and even that was shared with the Inuits who accompanied us

during the search. Late in the afternoon of the second day's march we

left Connery River, after crossing, with much difficulty, three rapids

where the ice was piled up from fifteen to twenty feet high. The

Connery was abandoned here on account of its direct westerly bearing

and we moved across land to the Lorillard River, which we reached about

noon of the 4th. This gave us several days good travelling in a

northerly direction, when we again took the land, and moved somewhat to

the eastward in order to avoid the Hazard Hills, which Lieutenant

Schwatka discovered in his preliminary sledge journey. He found that

range exceedingly precipitous, and so devoid of snow upon its summit as

to materially impede our progress were we compelled to force a passage

that way.

We witnessed a most peculiar and interesting spectacle on the 8th, in

what appeared to be a frozen waterfall, about twenty-five feet in

height, where a branch seemed to flow into the Lorillard from the west.

At a distance it looked like a mountain torrent which had been arrested

in its progress by some mighty hand and transformed into stone. Its

ripples of crystals gleamed in the sunlight, and sparkled as if studded

with myriads of gems. After enjoying its varied beauties for some time,

I climbed to the top of the bank to make a closer inspection of it.

Tracing its course for a short distance from the shore, I found a

shallow brook which had frozen in a level place at the top of the hill,

forcing the water to the right and left until it spread in a thin sheet

over the face of the rock for a space of about fifty feet in breadth.

Successive layers of ice were thus formed, and this novel and beautiful

effect produced. The first few days of our journey were excessively

fatiguing. The sleds were heavy, and we often had to put on our harness

and help the dogs over a ridge or through a deep drift. We had not yet

become hardened, and consequently experienced much difficulty from

blistered feet and chafing; but as we got rid of our superfluous flesh

these petty troubles became less annoying, and we did not so easily

become fatigued from walking.

During the afternoon of the 12th we came suddenly upon a herd of

reindeer, and the hunters killed three of them. The sleds then moved on

and we went into camp in the vicinity of the carcasses, in order to get

them in and cut up before dark. Soon we saw another smaller herd

running over the hills pursued by five wolves, which we could hear

howling at intervals during the evening until we went to sleep. That

night they came into camp close to the igloos, and Toolooah, who always

sleeps with one eye and one ear open, heard the dogs giving a peculiar

low bark, with which they announce the presence of wolves. We had a box

of Coston night signals close at hand in the igloo, and, knowing that a

light frightens them away, made a small hole in the igloo and thrust

out a "distress" signal with the most brilliant result. Toolooah was

already dressed and outside the igloo as the light started, and said

the wolves stopped and looked at it for a second and then fled in

dismay, each change of color in the signal light seeming to lend

additional wings to their flying feet. We saw them prowling around

during the next day's march, but they kept at a respectful distance.

During our entire trip the Coston signals served us a good purpose in

keeping the wolves from our doors, though I don't remember that the

prospectus mentioned this application as one of the advantages of

keeping the signals on hand.

On the 14th of April the thermometer rose above the freezing-point in

the middle of the day for the first time, and as we remained in camp

while the hunters went ahead to pick out a better road, we gladly

embraced the opportunity to dry our stockings. It is one of the

greatest discomforts of Arctic travel that the exercise of walking wets

one's fur stockings with perspiration. At night they freeze, and it is

anything but an agreeable sensation to put bare feet into stockings

filled with ice, which is a daily experience in winter travelling. But

it is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to that sort of thing,

and how little he minds it after a while. The warmth of the feet soon

thaws the ice, and then a wet stocking is nearly as warm as a dry one,

except in the wind. During the next day we were passing through a high

rolling country, but with plenty of snow and not bad sledging. We found

the descent of the hills always greater than the ascent, and presumed

that we were approaching the bed of Wager River, as our route crossed

the lower branch of that river, as mapped, well down toward the fork.

The slope of these hills was usually so steep that we had to take the

dogs off the sledges and let them run down upon the lakes by gravity.

This was an exciting but not very dangerous method of travelling. So

rapid would be the descent, that we had all we could do to hold on to

the sleds trying to retard their progress. Some would be taking steps

ten feet long, while others, with their feet planted straight out

before them, were ploughing up the snow and scattering it in every

direction. The dogs followed behind the sleds, running and barking,

some of them, entangled in their harness, rolling over and dragged

along by their swifter comrades. We were gratified to see plenty of

reindeer nearly every day, as it relieved our anxiety concerning our

commissariat. The ice upon the fresh-water lakes where we encamped

averaged about six and a half feet. An occasional salmon is caught

through the water hole by one of the women, who usually drop a line in

after the hole is made.

[Illustration: DOWN-HILL WITH THE SLEDGES.]

The sun for the last three days had been insufferably hot, and my

forehead and face were blistered painfully. It was altogether a new

experience to have my nose blistered on one side by the sun, and on the

other by a frost-bite. During my first winter in this country my nose

was particularly tender. I could scarcely go out of doors without

having it nipped. There is no pain in a frost-bite, but the cold upon

my nose would cause me much suffering when first exposed to it, without

exciting the least sympathy in my companions; but just as it would

begin to feel comfortable once more, some one would run up and tell me,

"Tling-yack quark" (Nose frozen), at the same time pressing a

warm hand against it to thaw it out. The person who has the frozen nose

is almost invariably surprised when informed of the fact. During winter

travel people always have each other's noses and cheeks in charge, and

one readily acquires the habit of occasionally taking hold of his nose,

especially when it feels comfortable, to see if it is frozen. The

frost-bite is at once detected by a white, wax-like patch, with edges

sharply defined against the ruddy color of the healthy flesh. When you

touch it, it feels cold and hard, and as if you had hold of somebody

else's nose. It thaws readily, and without further inconvenience, under

the pressure of a warm finger, unless it has been frozen for a long

time. During the second winter, though exposed to an intensity of cold

that is seldom encountered, it was seldom that I had a frozen nose or

cheek. No serious frost bites occurred to any of our party, and I

noticed that the Inuits suffered from the cold quite as much as the

white men. The skin invariably comes off the frozen part within a few

days, even when only slightly nipped. The consequence was that my nose

was constantly peeling, and at all times as tender as an infant's. Now

that the freezing days were about over, it began to peel from sunburn.

I don't know how many layers of skin were thus removed, but more than I

could account for, unless a man's nose is like an onion.

The sun was now having a very perceptible effect upon the snow, even

when the black rocks began to peep up through the surface, and great

patches of moss could be seen completely bare. The great bugbear of

sledge travelling is stony ground, or a hidden rock beneath a thin

layer of snow that cuts through and sweeps the ice from the runners

before the sled can be stopped. When the ice is gone from the runners

all comfort has gone with it. The sled that the dogs would drag without

apparent difficulty suddenly seems to weigh tons. All hands in harness

and pulling like slaves cannot accomplish more than two miles an hour.

The ice is put upon the runners the first thing in the morning when

coming out of the igloo. The sled is turned upside down, and the water,

after being held in the mouth a little while to warm it, is squirted

over the runners and freezes almost immediately in a temperature below

zero. In this way successive layers are applied until a clean, smooth

surface is acquired, upon which the sled slips over the snow with

comparative case. Now, the ice was usually all off the sleds by noon,

and progress was slow and laborious.

[Illustration: HUNTING MUSK-OXEN.]

We got an observation on the 21st at noon, which showed us our latitude

to be 65 deg. 45 min. north, agreeing closely with Lieutenant

Schwatka's dead reckoning. This, according to the chart, would put us

on the north bank of Wager River; but as yet we had seen no signs of

it, nor did we subsequently see anything that looked like such river.

This can be accounted for by the presumption that the survey was made

during the early summer, when the lakes are full, and some of the

valleys connecting them may have contained water enough to float a

boat. Before winter these might dry up and leave only a series of

disconnected lakes. Fresh musk-ox tracks were seen on the 27th, and on

the 29th we lay over to hunt some that Equeesik had seen after coming

into camp on the 28th. After a chase of about three miles we succeeded

in killing four, which completed our musk-ox score, as we saw no more

either in going to or coming from King William Land. May 3d, we found

water at a depth of eight feet, and on the 6th had to dig through eight

and a half feet. This was the thickest ice we saw of one winter's

formation. About noon of the 7th we ran into a herd of fourteen

reindeer, lying down upon a hillside, and in less than three-quarters

of an hour ten of them lay dead upon the field, and I believe those who

got away carried some lead with them. Lieutenant Schwatka, who remained

with the sleds, said that when the firing began it sounded for a while

like a sharp battle, so rapidly and incessantly were the shots

delivered. It clearly illustrates the advantage of breech-loaders and

magazine guns when game is plentiful and much is required.

[Illustration: THE GREAT BEND IN HAYES RIVER.]

The next day a storm kept us in camp, but on the 9th we pulled out

again and found the sledging in a most wretched condition. The country

was very hilly and the snow entirely gone in many places, so that it

occasioned much halting and considerable trouble to pick out a route by

which the sled could move at all. About noon, however, we were rejoiced

by reaching the head of a small river or creek by a perilous flying

switch down a very long and steep hill. One of the sleds was

overthrown, but fortunately it sustained no material damage, and was

soon righted and landed on the ice below. One more flying run and we

were safe upon the river. We had to congratulate ourselves upon the

good fortune by which we discovered this river, for the land was

getting more rugged all the time, and we began to fear that the snow,

which was disappearing very rapidly, would soon be in such a condition

that we could not travel at all, and we be left so near and get beyond

reach of our destination. The range of hills from which we descended to

the river was from eight hundred to a thousand feet high and their

peaks entirely denuded of snow. Lieutenant Schwatka decided to keep to

the river under all circumstances, though at present it was impossible

to tell whether it was the Castor and Pollux or a branch of Back's

River. It proved to be the latter, and quite an important branch, which

we followed for upward of ninety miles, leaving it only when it turned

due south and at a right angle to our course. The entire length is 110

or 120 miles. It empties into Cockburn Bay, on the eastern shore of

Back's River. Lieutenant Schwatka named it Hayes River, in honor of the

President. On the 11th of May we killed seven reindeer, and on the 13th

nine. The country seems to be filled with game, and nearly every day we

saw two or three large herds. Our dogs get well fed, and are really in

finer condition than when we left Camp Daly. We had the misfortune to

lose one of our best dogs, Toekelegeto, Toolooah's leader, on the night

of the 13th, who choked to death with a piece of bone in his throat. He

had eaten a piece of the shoulder-blade of the reindeer, which is thin

and breaks into fine splinters. The Inuits usually hide this bone in

the snow, as they say such accidents are frequent, especially when the

dogs eat rapidly, as they always do when there is a number together.

[Illustration: THE SOURCES OF THE HAYES RIVER.]

The northern shore of the river is here bounded by high hills--in fact,

almost a mountain range, and as I walked along the crest on the 14th,

the sleds moving along the river at my feet looked like toys. Inland I

could see the rocky hills piled together, barren and forbidding, and I

could not help feeling grateful that we had found so good a road out of

this country, for it would have been next to impossible to have crossed

these ridges with our heavy sledges. About noon we came upon a freshly

cut block of snow turned up on end, an unmistakable indication that

natives had been there within two or three days, and a little farther

on fresh footprints in the snow led us to a cache of musk-ox meat, and

near by a deserted igloo. Equeesik knew by these signs that we were in

the Ooqueesik-Sillik country, and as the natives never go far from

Back's River, or the Ooqueesik-Sillik, as is the Esquimau name, this

was joyful news and we were all excitement at the prospect of speedily

meeting the natives. We followed the tracks upon the ice, and could see

that they had used dogs to drag a musk-ox skin for a sled. This is a

usual mode of travel with these people, who have very little wood with

which to make sledges. Their supply consists entirely of drift-wood,

with the exception of the material they obtained from the small boats

of the 'Erebus' and 'Terror', two of which were found on

Adelaide Peninsula and two on King William Land.

[Map: THE LOWER PORTION OF BACK'S OR GREAT FISH RIVER.]

CHAPTER V.

NATIVE WITNESSES.

We left camp at half-past seven in the morning of the 15th, a sharp

wind blowing in our faces. We had not gone far when the dogs began to

prick up their ears, and finally started off on a brisk run, barking

and manifesting great excitement. The Inuits at once attributed this

unwonted energy on the part of the dogs to the fact that there were

people not far distant, and, sure enough, we soon saw several igloos

about three-quarters of a mile ahead, with poles sticking in the snow

around them--an evidence that they were inhabited. The sleds were now

halted, and preparations made to open communication with the strangers.

The Inuits of our party, especially Ishnark and Joe, were very much

frightened, and said the people we were about to meet were as warlike

as the Netchilliks, and always wanted to fight when they met strangers.

They were somewhat reassured when their attention was called to the

immense advantage we had over them with our breech-loaders and magazine

guns against their bows and spears. In accordance with the custom of

the country, the Inuits armed themselves with snow-knives and spears,

while the white men carried their rifles or revolvers. All the men and

boys then advanced toward the igloos, but not a soul was to be seen.

Two or three dogs ran out and barked and then ran to where the sleds

were halted, the women and children cowering down behind them. When

within about three hundred yards of the camp our party halted, while

Equeesik and Ishnark went a few paces further and began shouting

something, which I afterward learned was Equeesik's name, with which

they were acquainted, and announcing the fact that there were white men

with our party. Presently one man crawled timidly out of the doorway of

an igloo and asked a question, which must have been satisfactorily

answered, for others soon followed and arranged themselves alongside of

him; then all of them shouted an invitation to advance, whereupon we

approached, and conversation between the Inuits became general. We were

objects of great curiosity to the strangers, most of whom now saw white

men for the first time. It seems that when they first saw us they

thought we were Netchilliks, and were in consequence very much

frightened, so that while some of our people were dreading an

encounter, these poor creatures were shaking in their shoes and afraid

to come out of their igloos. They all carried knives in their hands,

but as weapons they might as well have carried nothing. Most of them

were bits of hoop-iron or copper, worked down to a blade, and fastened

upon long handles of reindeer horn.

[Illustration: MEETING WITH THE OOKJOOLIKS.]

There were in the party nine men, nearly all belonging to the immediate

family of an old man, who acted as spokesman. He said he was an

Ookjoolik, but he and others had been driven from their country by

their more numerous and warlike neighbors the Netchilliks. His family

comprised nearly all that was left of the tribe which formerly occupied

the western coast of Adelaide Peninsula and King William Land. We

concluded to encamp with them, and get what information we could from

them concerning our mate and the Franklin ships. We were fortunate in

finding the old man, an interesting and important witness. "Esquimau

Joe," Ishnark, and Equeesik acted as interpreters, and through them we

learned that these people were in great distress for food. The musk-ox

we saw cached was all the meat they had in hand, or had had for a long

time. An old man of their tribe had starved to death about a month

before our arrival. We gave them some reindeer meat, of which we

fortunately had plenty on the sleds, and told them where they would

find the carcass of a reindeer that one of our party had killed the day

before and left on the field because the sleds were too far off to wait

for it. Their clothing was in a dilapidated condition, though

originally well made, and instead of reindeer gloves and shoes, they

wore articles made of musk-ox skin, which had a most extraordinary

effect. The hair of the musk-ox is several inches long, and it looked

as if they had an old-fashioned muff on each hand. They were very good

natured and friendly, however, and helped to build our igloos and make

them comfortable. We obtained from them a few trifling relics of the

'Erebus' and 'Terror', in exchange for knives and needles,

which made them happy. It seemed strange to me that they should be

hungry in a country swarming with reindeer, but our people explained to

me that in winter it is almost impossible to get near enough to

reindeer; to kill them with arrows, which are their only weapons. In

summer they kill a few reindeer from their kyacks, or skin canoes,

while crossing the big lakes on their migrations. The Netchilliks also

kill a few reindeer in this way. In the summer and fall these people

catch great quantities of salmon and cow-e-sil-lik, a species of fish

peculiar to this country, and in the neighboring hills kill a few

musk-oxen. Their main dependence, however, is upon fish from Back's

and Harris's rivers.

From Ikinnelikpatolok, the old Ookjoolik, we learned at the interview

that he had only once seen white men alive. That was when he was a

little boy. He is now about sixty-five or seventy. He was fishing on

Back's River when they came along in a boat and shook hands with him.

There were ten men. The leader was called "Tos-ard-e-roak," which Joe

says, from the sound, he thinks means Lieutenant Back. The next white

man he saw was dead in a bunk of a big ship which was frozen in the

ice near an island about five miles due west of Grant Point, on

Adelaide Peninsula. They had to walk out about three miles on smooth

ice to reach the ship. He said that his son, who was present, a man

about thirty-five years old, was then about like a child he pointed

out--probably seven or eight years old. About this time he saw the

tracks of white men on the main-land. When he first saw them there

were four, and afterward only three. This was when the spring snows

were falling. When his people saw the ship so long without any one

around, they used to go on board and steal pieces of wood and iron.

They did not know how to get inside by the doors, and cut a hole in

the side of the ship, on a level with the ice, so that when the ice

broke up during the following summer the ship filled and sunk. No

tracks were seen in the salt-water ice or on the ship, which also was

covered with snow, but they saw scrapings and sweepings alongside,

which seemed to have been brushed off by people who had been living

on board. They found some red cans of fresh meat, with plenty of what

looked like tallow mixed with it. A great many had been opened, and

four were still unopened. They saw no bread. They found plenty of

knives, forks, spoons, pans, cups, and plates on board, and afterward

found a few such things on shore after the vessel had gone down. They

also saw books on board, and left them there. They only took knives,

forks, spoons, and pans; the other things they had no use for. He

never saw or heard of the white men's cairn on Adelaide Peninsula.

Peowat, son-in-law of the previous witness, a man about forty, said

that when about fourteen or fifteen years old he saw two boats come

down Back's River. One had eight men in it, and the other he did not

notice how many. He afterward saw a stone monument on Montreal Island,

which, when he opened it, was found to contain a pocket-knife, a pair

of scissors, and some fish-hooks, which he took away. He saw no papers

anywhere about it.

We remained in this camp two days and a half, and before we left

engaged a young man named Narleyow to accompany us as guide and seal

hunter. His wife, Innokpizookzook, and their child, a little girl about

three years old, also went with us. Our new hunter was given a gun and

ammunition, and placed in the care of Equeesik to instruct in the use

of fire-arms. I noticed that these people have slightly fairer

complexions than the natives of Hudson's Bay, and the women are

somewhat more elaborately tattooed, despite which they are quite

comely. The children are all remarkably pretty, but the men have a

ghastly look from wearing wooden goggles to guard against snow

blindness, which makes the skin around the eyes, where protected by the

goggles, several shades lighter than the rest of their face.

We reached Back's River in four more marches, two of which were on the

Hayes River, and two on land, crossing from the great bend to avoid the

detour that otherwise we would be compelled to make. We were compelled

to remain in camp one day, while on the land, on account of a severe

storm. The day we reached Back's River was also one of the most

disagreeable days we marched, and it was a joyful sight to us, after

nearly two months' travelling over an entirely unknown country, to find

ourselves within easy reach of our destination. It seemed as if nothing

now could prevent the accomplishment of our desire. As long as we were

dependent upon the snow the prospect was growing more and more dubious;

but with the salt-water ice beneath us, we felt assured of reaching our

destination in due season. We remained one day at Montreal Island, to

look for the remains of the cairn spoken of by Peowat, but every trace

of it had been removed, as he said.

[Illustration: THE NETCHILLIK AMBASSADRESS.]

The day we left Montreal Island two seals were killed, which were

the first since leaving Hudson's Bay. We found the distance from the

north-east end of the island much less than mapped, and went into camp

well up the coast, after killing three reindeer. We again took the

land, crossing the Oyle Point and Richardson Point peninsulas, which we

found much wider than mapped. In an inlet west of Richardson Point, or

"Nu-oo-tar-ro," as it is known by the natives, we ran into the first of

the Netchillik encampments, on the last day of May. The ceremony of

opening communication was similar to that with the Ooquee-sik-silliks a

few days before, with the exception that instead of remaining in their

igloos the men were drawn up in line of battle in front of them, and

sent out an old woman to find out who we were and what we wanted. If

our designs had been hostile, and we had killed the old woman, their

fighting strength would not have been reduced, and it would only have

been one less old woman to care for. They carried their bows in their

hands, with arrows fixed to the strings; but when the old woman shouted

back that we were white men, they laid aside their arms and received us

in a friendly manner, striking their breasts and saying, "Many-tu-me,"

though Joe afterward told me that one of the men wanted a fight anyhow.

They have a custom of killing the first stranger who comes among them

after a death in the tribe, and as we filled that requirement, it seems

he wanted to carry out the custom. At Equeesik's suggestion a gun had

been discharged in the air as we approached, and it is probable that

the knowledge that we were better armed than they had some effect in

securing peace. They acted in quite a friendly manner after we came

among them, and Lieutenant Schwatka and I visited all their igloos,

leaving needles, thimbles, spoons, knives, and fish-hooks with them in

exchange for a few unimportant Franklin relics. The next day we

interviewed an old man named Seeuteetuar, who had seen a number of

skeletons near the water line in an inlet about three or four miles

west from the present camp. He had also seen books and papers scattered

around among the rocks along the shore and back from the beach. There

were also knives, forks and spoons, dishes and cans. There was no sled

there, but there was a boat, which was afterward broken up and taken

away by the natives, with which to manufacture wooden implements. He

was shown a watch, and said he saw several like it lying around, which

were also taken and broken up by the children. Some were silver and

some gold. He said the bones were still there, unless carried off by

foxes and wolves. He had never seen or heard of a cairn erected by

white men along the coast on this side of Simpson Strait, and had never

heard of any other traces of white men here. It was a long time since

he had been there, but he could show us the spot.

Toolooah, another Netchillik, about forty-five years old, had also been

at the boat place, but after nearly everything had been removed. He

had, however, seen traces of white men in the Ookjoolik country, on the

western coast of Adelaide Peninsula, and as late as last summer had

picked up pieces of bottles, iron, wood and tin cans on an island off

Grant Point. Ookjoolik natives had pointed out this island as a place

near which a ship had been sunk many years ago. A map was shown to him,

and he pointed to a spot about eight miles due west of Grant Point as

the place where the ship went down. Ooping, an Ookjoolik Inuit, who

lived near the mouth of a big inlet that extends nearly across Adelaide

Peninsula, from the head of Wilmot Bay, was the last Esquimau who had

gone over the west coast of King William Land. This was two years ago.

He had seen traces of white men near Cape Jane Franklin and along the

coast of Cape Felix. This inlet, spoken of by Toolooah, seemed of

sufficient importance to deserve surveying, and Lieutenant Schwatka

decided to include it in the search of the Ookjoolik country.

The sun exerted sufficient power during the middle of the day to bring

our igloo down; but we had finished our interviewing and were ready to

visit the cove where the boat and skeletons had been found. One light

sled, with plenty of dogs, took us over, with Seeuteetuar and Toolooah

as guides, and our Toolooah as driver. We found the place about three

miles from camp, and, though the ground was nearly all covered with

snow, and nothing whatever distinguished it from the coast on either

side, we could not but be impressed by the mournful interest with which

the sad fate of the lost explorers invested it. To our minds there

seemed little doubt but that this was the farthest point in the

direction of Hudson's Bay that any of them had reached. The party was

a small one, and had, probably, been sifted down to the few hardiest

men, whose anticipation of rescue from the horrible death that awaited

them had not faltered under all their terrible sufferings while they

had the continent in view. It probably seemed that if they could only

reach the mainland they would be comparatively safe. But even the

bravest hearts must have sunk--and that there were many brave hearts

among them cannot be doubted, when the awful desolation of this country

forced itself upon them. No more powerful picture of utter abandonment

could possibly be devised than this. The land low and barren, so low,

indeed, as to be scarcely distinguished from the sea, as both lay

covered with their mantle of snow. Neither tree nor sprout, and

scarcely a hill visible--nothing whatever to relieve the crushing

monotony of the scene--no living thing to be seen anywhere, though the

eye had uninterrupted range over so vast a territory. Even a wolf

prowling around would have been a relief in the utter loneliness that

oppressed them. All this presented itself to our minds as we looked

around but saw no traces of the lost ones. Had we known at this time

what we learned a few days later, the place would have had an

additional interest as the spot where the records of the expedition,

which had been brought thus far with infinite toil and care, had been

irrecoverably lost. We marked the spot carefully, for a thorough search

when the snow was off the ground, and returned to camp. Our guides

informed us that the boat was found upside down on the beach, and all

the skeletons beneath it. They did not remember the exact number, but

thought there were about five or more.

[Illustration: THE COUNCIL WITH THE NETCHILLIKS.]

That night Equeesik learned from two natives who came in late that his

sister was with another portion of the tribe near Richardson Point, and

went there with his sled, returning the next day but one with several

families, including an old woman whom we found to be another important

and interesting witness. She was one of a party who met some of the

survivors of the ill-fated ships on Washington Bay. Since then she had

seen no white man until now. Her name was Ahlangyah, a Netchillik,

about fifty-five years of age. She had a fine intelligent face, and a

quantity of jet black hair, slightly tinged with gray, that had

probably never been annoyed by any efforts at arrangement, and hung

down over her shoulders or straggled over her face without reserve or

molestation. I succeeded during the interview in getting a very

characteristic portrait of her, the authenticity of which was

subsequently attested when I had forgotten her name and her friends at

once identified her by the portrait. It is but fair to state that we

have reason to put great faith in the statements of these people, as

truthfulness seems to be an inherent quality with them. They never

attempted to deceive us in regard to relics, though perhaps it would

seem easy and profitable. In many instances what appeared to us to be

interesting relics they told us came from the natives of Repulse Bay

and elsewhere.

Ahlangyah pointed out the eastern coast of Washington Bay as the spot

where she, in company with her husband, and two other men with their

wives, had seen ten white men dragging a sledge with a boat on it many

years ago. There was another Inuit with them who did not go near the

white men. The sledge was on the ice, and a wide crack separated them

from the white men at the interview. The women went on shore, and the

men awaited the white people at the crack on the ice. Five of the white

men put up a tent on the shore, and five remained with the boat on the

ice. The Inuits put up a tent not far from the white men, and they

stayed together here five days. During this time the Inuits killed a

number of seals on the ice and gave them to the white men. They gave

her husband a chopping-knife. He was the one who had the most

intercourse with the white crew. The knife is now lost, or broken and

worn out. She has not seen it for a long time. At the end of five days

they all started for Adelaide Peninsula, fearing that the ice, which

was very rotten, might not let them across. They started at night,

because then, the sun being low, the ice would be a little frozen. The

white men followed, dragging their heavy sledge and boat, and could not

cross the rotten ice as fast as the Inuits, who halted and waited for

them at Gladman's Point. The Inuits could not cross to the mainland,

the ice was too rotten, and they remained in King William Land all

summer. They never saw the white men again, though they waited at

Gladman's Point fishing in the neighboring lakes, going back and forth

between the shore and lakes nearly all summer, and then went to the

eastern shore near Matty Island.

Some of the white men were very thin, and their mouths were dry and

hard and black. They had no fur clothing on. When asked if she

remembered by what names the white men were called, she said one of

them was called "Agloocar," and another "Toolooah." The latter seemed

to be the chief, and it was he who gave the chopping-knife to her

husband. (Agloocar and Toolooah are both common Esquimau names, and it

is probable the names she heard the white men call resembled these in

sound, and thus impressed themselves upon her mind.) Another one was

called "Dok-took" (Doctor). "Toolooah" was a little older than the

others, and had a large black beard, mixed with gray. He was bigger

than any of the others--"a big, broad man." "Agloocar" was smaller, and

had a brown beard about four or five inches below his chin (motioning

with her hand). "Dok-took" was a short man, with a big stomach and red

beard, about the same length as "Agloocar's." All three wore

spectacles, not snow goggles, but, as the interpreters said, all the

same seko (ice).

The following spring, when there was little snow on the ground, she saw

a tent standing on the shore at the head of Terror Bay. There were dead

bodies in the tent, and outside were some covered over with sand. There

was no flesh on them--nothing but the bones and clothes. There were a

great many; she had forgotten how many. Indeed, Inuits have little idea

of numbers beyond "ten." She saw nothing to indicate any of the party

she met before. The bones had the chords or sinews still attached to

them. One of the bodies had the flesh on, but this one's stomach was

gone. There were one or two graves outside. They did not open the

graves at this time; saw a great many things lying around. There were

knives, forks, spoons, watches, many books, clothing, blankets, and

such things. The books were not taken notice of. This was the same

party of Esquimaux who had met the white men the year before, and they

were the first who saw the tent and graves. They had been in King

William Land ever since they saw the white men until they found the

tent place.

CHAPTER VI.

THE MIDNIGHT SUN.

Such was the statement of Ahlangyah the Netchillik. When she had

finished it we gave her some needles, spoons, a tin pan, and other

articles that well repaid her for the trouble she had taken to reach

us. Here was a woman who had actually seen the poor, starving

explorers, and her story was replete with interest for us. Every word

she uttered seemed fraught with the dread tragedy, and she appeared to

share our interest, for her face was full of expression. At times it

was saddened with the recital of the piteous condition of the white

men, and tears filled her eyes as she recalled the sad scene at the

tent place where so many had perished, and their bodies become food for

wild beasts. It would seem, from what she related to-day, that the

party which perished in the inlet we visited yesterday, was part of the

same that Ahlangyah met on King William Land. She and her friends could

not get across Simpson Strait, while the white men kept on over the

rotten ice, probably at last compelled to take to their boat, and then,

at the mercy of the wind and ice, after losing others of their number

near Pfeffer River and Todd Islands, had drifted into the inlet where

the dead bodies were found with the boat. How long it took them to

reach this place will probably never be known, but there is little

doubt that they were in a desperate condition. In fact, as we

subsequently learned from other witnesses, there were almost

unmistakable evidences of their being compelled to resort to

cannibalism, until at last they absolutely starved to death at this

point--at least all but one, whose remains were found, during the

summer after our visit here, about five miles further inland.

We secured one valuable relic here, in the sled seen by Sir Leopold

McClintock, in Erebus Bay, which at that time had upon it a boat, with

several skeletons inside. Since the sled came into the hands of the

Inuits it has been cut down several times. It was originally seven feet

longer than at present, the runners about two inches higher and twice

as far apart. But even in its present state it is an exceedingly

interesting memento. We have carefully preserved it in the condition in

which it has been in constant use by the Esquimaux for many years. We

met other portions of this tribe at intervals of from six to ten miles

along this coast, until we reached Seaforth Point, where we crossed to

King William Land, and left them behind until our return in the

following September.

Meanwhile we were pushing steadily onward. We were beginning to get

used to the phenomena of the Arctic, not the least among which is the

"midnight sun." It is difficult for one who has not witnessed it

himself to understand the meaning of this portent. The idea of the long

Arctic night seems to be much more generally comprehended. Nearly all

writers upon the subject, whether those who have themselves experienced

its effects, or those whose knowledge is derived from study, dwell with

great force on the terribly depressing effect upon the physical

organization of natives of the median zones caused by the long Arctic

night whenever brought within its influence. Though much less has been

written or said concerning the interminable day, its effects are almost

as deleterious upon the stranger as the prolonged night. Indeed, to the

sojourner in high latitudes the day is much more appreciable, for at no

point yet visited by man is the darkness the total darkness of night

throughout the entire day, while the "midnight sun" makes the night

like noon-day. Even when the sun passes below the horizon at its upper

culmination, the daylight is as intense as at noon in lower latitudes

when the sun's disk is obscured by thin clouds. The long twilight in

the north, where the sun's apparent path around the earth varies so

little in altitude at its upper and lower culminations, takes some of

the edge off of the prolonged night at the highest latitude ever

attained by the Arctic explorer; but there is nothing to relieve the

"long, long, weary day" of its full power upon the system.

In this latitude the sun goes down at night, and we retire to our

couches and sleep. In the morning the sun returns, and we arise to the

pursuit of our various daily avocations. But there, in the spring, the

sun never sets. There is no morning and no night. It is one continuous

day for months. At first it seems very difficult to understand this

strange thing in nature. One never knows when to sleep. The world seems

to be entirely wrong, and man grows nervous and restless. Sleep is

driven from his weary eyelids, his appetite fails, and all the

disagreeable results of protracted vigils are apparent. But gradually

he becomes used to this state of affairs, devises means to darken his

tent, and once more enjoys his hour of rest. In fact, he learns how to

take advantage of the new arrangement, and when travelling pursues his

journey at night, or when the sun is lowest, because then he finds the

frost that hardens the snow a great assistance in sledging.

The sun's rays then, falling more obliquely, are less powerful, and he

avoids somewhat the evils that beset his pathway at noontime. He is not

so much exposed to sunburn or to snow-blindness. It may sound strangely

to speak of sunburn in the frigid zone, but perhaps nowhere on the

earth is the traveller more annoyed by that great ill. The heat of

ordinary exercise compels him to throw back the hood of his fur coat,

that the cool evenings and mornings preclude his discarding, and not

only his entire face becomes blistered, but especially--if he is

fashionable enough to wear his hair thin upon the top of his head--his

entire scalp is affected about as severely as if a bucket of scalding

water had been poured over his head. This is not an exaggeration. At a

later period than that of which I am writing, Lieutenant Schwatka's

entire party, while upon a sledge journey from Marble Island to Camp

Daly, were so severely burned that not only their faces but their

entire heads were swollen to nearly twice their natural size. And a

fine-looking party they were. Some had their faces so swollen that

their eyes were completely closed upon awakening from sleep. When one

could see the others he could not refrain from laughing, so ludicrous

was the spectacle. All dignity was lost. Even the august commander of

the party was a laughing-stock, and though he knew why they laughed at

each other, he could not understand why he should excite such mirth

until he saw his face in a mirror. Then, when he tried to smile, his

lips were so thoroughly swollen that the effect was entirely lost, and

it was impossible to tell whether his expression denoted amusement,

anger, or pain. The torture resulting from these burns was so severe

that it was almost impossible to sleep. The fur bedding, which also

served the purpose of a pillow, irritated the burns like applying a

mustard-plaster to a blister. Then it was that the night was turned

into day for the rest of the journey, and during the heat of the day

the party were comparatively comfortable in the shelter of their tent.

Straw-hats would have been the proper style of head-dress, but they had

been omitted from the outfit, as was also another very important source

of comfort, mosquito nettings. It is in the summer, however, that the

necessity for the latter luxury is encountered.

While the sun's rays pour down with all their force upon the devoted

head of the traveller the reflection from the snow is almost as intense

and still more disagreeable, for there is no possible escape from it.

Not satisfied with producing its share of sunburn, it acts upon the

eyes in a manner that produces that terrible scourge of the Arctic

spring--snow-blindness. It is a curious fact that persons who are

near-sighted are generally exempt from the evils of snow-blindness,

while it appears to be more malignant with those who are far-sighted

in direct ratio to the superior quality of their vision. Lieutenant

Schwatka and his companion, the present writer, are both near-sighted,

and during the two seasons that they were exposed to the disease

neither were at any time affected by snow-blindness; while the other

members of the party, and especially the natives, who have most

powerful visual organs, were almost constantly martyrs to the disease

whenever exposed to its attacks.

It seems the only method of guarding against it is to wear what we

called snow-goggles all the time one is out of doors. The natives use

those of home manufacture--that is, a piece of wood with a notch to fit

over the bridge of the nose, and a narrow, horizontal slit opposite

each eye. This rude spectacle, called by them igearktoo, is made to fit

close to the eyes, and is held in place by strings passing behind and

over the top of the head. It serves to shelter the eyes from the direct

and reflected rays of the sun, but also interrupts the vision so much

that they habitually push it up on top of their heads, and run a risk

which almost invariably results to their disadvantage, yet their

goggles are so unsatisfactory that no amount of adverse experience is

sufficient to serve as a warning to them. The civilized visitors among

them wear goggles of various patterns and degrees of excellence. Some

are made of differently colored glass, from the various shades of

smoked glass to blue and green of varying degrees of opacity; some are

of glass surrounded with wire gauze; others of wire gauze without the

glass, and some are merely a strip of bunting hanging from the peak of

the cap. Of all the various kinds the general experience seems to be in

favor of the wire gauze without glass. They interfere very little with

the vision, and yet furnish a perfect protection for the eyes. Glass of

any pattern or shade subjects the wearer to constant annoyance by

fogging from the breath, which congeals very rapidly upon the surface

of the glass, and apparently always at the most inconvenient time, as

when the hunter is stalking a deer by crawling a long distance upon

his hands and knees, and just as he raises his rifle for a shot his

goggles are like pieces of ground glass. The native spectacles give

such a limited field of vision that it is impossible to use them in

hunting; but the wire-gauze seems to be free from all these objections.

A well-supplied expedition is provided with every kind of snow-goggles,

as they are absolutely essential to the well being of the party. The

superiority of the wire-gauze pattern seemed to have been appreciated

by the Franklin expedition, for many of them were subsequently found

at the various burial-places and at other points where relics were

obtained. It is also said that painting around the eyes upon the upper

and lower lids with burned cork or some dark pigment is a protection

against snow-blindness; but it is doubtful if this method has been

sufficiently tested to admit of its being relied upon. The symptoms of

snow-blindness are inflammation of the inner coating of the lids,

accompanied by intense pain and impairment of the vision, so as to

disable the sufferer from the performance of his duties. A wash of

diluted tincture of opium is probably the best remedy, and gives almost

immediate relief. The patient should remain within doors for two or

three days, by which time he will usually be sufficiently cured to

resume his out-door labors.

It might be supposed that in the utter barrenness of the Arctic

landscape, flowers never grew there. This would be a great mistake. The

dweller in that desolate region, after passing a long, weary winter,

with nothing for the eye to rest upon but the vast expanse of snow and

ice, is in a condition to appreciate, beyond the ability of an

inhabitant of warmer climes, the little flowerets that peep up almost

through the snow when the spring sunlight begins to exercise its power

upon the white mantle of the earth. In little patches here and there,

where the dark-colored moss absorbs the warm rays of the sun, and the

snow is melted from its surface, the most delicate flowers spring up at

once to gladden the eye of the weary traveller. It needs not the

technical skill of the botanist to admire these lovely tokens of

approaching summer. Thoughts of home, in a warmer and more hospitable

climate, fill his heart with joy and longing, as meadows filled with

daisies and buttercups spread out before him, while he stands upon the

crest of a granite hill that knows no footstep other than the tread of

the stately musk-ox or the antlered reindeer, as they pass in single

file upon their frequent journeys, and whose caverns echo to no sound

save the howling of the wolves or the discordant cawing of the raven.

He is a boy again, and involuntarily plucks the feathery dandelion, and

seeks the time of day by blowing the puffy fringe from its stem, or

tests the faith of the fair one, who is dearer to him than ever in this

hour of separation, by picking the leaves from the yellow-hearted

daisy. Tiny little violets, set in a background of black or dark green

moss, adorn the hill-sides, and many flowers unknown to warmer zones

come bravely forth to flourish for a few weeks only, and wither in the

August winds. Very few of the flowers, so refreshing and charming to

the eye, have any perfume. Nearly all smell of the dank moss that forms

their bed.

As soon as the snow leaves the ground, the hill-sides in many

localities are covered with the vine that bears a small black berry

(called by the natives parwong,) in appearance, though not in flavor,

like the huckleberry. It has a pungent spicy tartness that is very

acceptable after a long diet of meat alone, and the natives, when they

find these vines, stop every other pursuit for the blissful moments of

cramming their stomachs with the fruit. This is kept up, if the crop

only lasts long enough until they have made themselves thoroughly sick

by their hoggishness. But the craving for some sort of vegetable diet

is irresistible, and with true Inuit improvidence they indulge it,

careless of consequences. Fortunate for them is it that their summer,

is a short one, and the parwong not abundant, or cholera might be added

to the other dangers of Arctic residence. But the days of the buttercup

and the daisy, and of the butterfly and the mosquito are few. With the

winter comes the all-pervading snow, and the keen, bracing north-west

wind, the rosy cheek and the frozen nose; but with it also comes rugged

health and a steady diet of walrus meat.

CHAPTER VII.

RELICS.

From this point onward our march was attended with the most profitable

results. On the evening of the 4th of June we met a young man, named

Adlekok, who, during the previous summer, had found a new cairn erected

by white men near Pfeffer River, which had never been seen by any other

Inuits. Near by were three graves and a tent place in which he found a

pair of wire-gauze snow-goggles, which we bought from him. This

information seemed of sufficient importance to be followed up

immediately before any other natives should find and rob the cairn.

Consequently the next day Lieutenant Schwatka and I took a light

sled, with Toolooah to drive and Adlekok as guide, and visited the

spot. We took a day's rations with us, to use in case we did not get

back that night, and started with a head wind and storm that confined

our view to the immediate vicinity of the sledge. Our guide, however,

took us through this trackless waste of smooth ice, a distance of over

twenty-five miles, without deviation from the direct line, with no

landmarks or sun to steer by; but on he went with the unerring

instinct of a dog, until we struck the land at the western banks of

Pfeffer River. Arrived at the cairn we found it as he said, "a white

man's cairn" unmistakably, but before proceeding to take it down we

examined it carefully and found scratched on a clay stone with the

point of a sharp instrument,

MAY

H XII

1869

and on the opposite side,

ETERNAL HONOR TO THE DISCOVER-

ERS OF THE NORTH WE-

and knew it to be the cairn erected by our countryman, Captain Hall,

over the bones of two of Franklin's men which he speaks of having found

here. A portion of the inscription was lost by the breaking off of a

piece of the stone on which it was written. We did not take down the

monument, but after making a hasty sketch, returned to camp, having

travelled over fifty miles in ten hours.

At this camp we found another interesting relic, in a pine board that

seems to have been part of the head of a bunk or other permanent

fixture, and has the initials "L. F." in brass tacks upon it. This was

picked up on the west coast of Adelaide Peninsula, near where the ship

went down that drifted through Victoria Strait, and may serve to

identify that vessel, thus proving a most interesting and valuable

historic relic. At the next camp, which was our last stopping-place on

the main-land, we met an old woman named Tooktoocheer, widow of

Pooyetah, who was among the first to visit the boat place we saw a few

days ago. We were somewhat disappointed in her as a witness, for she

was so old that her memory was at fault, and she would wander about to

different places and relate circumstances without explanation. Her son,

who was present at the interview, was a lad of about twelve years when

he visited the boat place with his parents, and retained a vivid

recollection of the place. His testimony, therefore, proved to be what

we had hoped of his mother's. All the time he was talking the old woman

sat nodding approval as the circumstances he was relating were recalled

to her memory. His name is Ogzeuckjeuwock, and he is an aruketko, or

medicine-man, in his tribe. The recollection of the boat place was

somewhat impressed upon his mind by the explosion of a can of powder

with which he and another lad were playing after the articles were

found there. The effects of the explosion came near proving fatal at

the time, and when I met him during the fall on King William Land, he

told me he had never entirely recovered from the shock.

I give the interview with Tooktoocheer and her son as I recorded it in

my note-book at the time, so that each reader may draw his own

conclusions. Some of the statements will undoubtedly appear strange,

but in the main they are perfectly intelligible and exceedingly

interesting. Tooktoocheer said she was from Okbillegeok (Pelly Bay

of the charts), a portion of the Netchillik country. She is the widow

of Pooyetah, spoken of by Sir John Ross and Captain Hall. She appeared

to be about seventy years old, and was an object of high esteem by her

people, as was evinced in the care that was bestowed upon her comfort.

She said she had never seen any of Franklin's men alive, but saw six

skeletons on the main-land and an adjacent island--four on the

main-land and two on the island. This she pointed out on the southern

coast near ninety-five degrees west longitude. There were no graves

at either place. Her husband was with her at the time, and seven other

Inuits. This was when she was at the boat place west of Richardson

Point. In fact, she seemed to have the two places somewhat mixed up in

her mind, and Ogzeuckjeuwock took up the thread of the narrative here.

In answer to a question which we asked his mother, he said he saw books

at the boat place in a tin case, about two feet long and a foot square,

which was fastened, and they broke it open. The case was full. Written

and printed books were shown him, and he said they were like the

printed ones. Among the books he found what was probably the needle of

a compass or other magnetic instrument, because he said when it touched

any iron it stuck fast. The boat was right side up, and the tin case in

the boat. Outside the boat he saw a number of skulls. He forgot how

many, but said there were more than four. He also saw bones from legs

and arms that appeared to have been sawed off. Inside the boat was a

box filled with bones; the box was about the same size as the one with

the books in it.

He said the appearance of the bones led the Inuits to the opinion that

the white men bad been eating each other. What little flesh was still

on the bones was very fresh; one body had all the flesh on. The hair

was light; it looked like a long body. He saw a number of wire

snow-goggles, and alongside the body with flesh on it was a pair of

gold spectacles. (He picked out the kind of metal from several that

were shown him.) He saw more than one or two pairs of such spectacles,

but forgot how many. When asked how long the bodies appeared to have

been dead when he saw them, he said they had probably died during the

winter previous to the summer he saw them. In the boat he saw canvas

and four sticks (a tent or sail), saw a number of watches, open-faced;

a few were gold, but most were silver. They are all lost now. They were

given to the children to play with, and have been broken up and lost.

One body--the one with flesh on--had a gold chain fastened to gold

ear-rings, and a gold hunting-case watch with engine-turned engraving

attached to the chain, and hanging down about the waist. He said when

he pulled the chain it pulled the head up by the ears. This body also

had a gold ring on the ring finger of the right hand. It was taken off,

and has since been lost by the children in the same way that the other

things were lost. His reason for thinking that they had been eating

each other was because the bones were cut with a knife or saw. They

found one big saw and one small one in the boat; also a large red tin

case of smoking tobacco and some pipes. There was no cairn there. The

bones are now covered up with sand and sea-weed, as they were lying

just at high-water mark. Some of the books were taken home for the

children to play with, and finally torn and lost, and others lay around

among the rocks until carried away by the wind and lost or buried

beneath the sand.

His statement in reference to one of the deceased wearing a watch by a

chain attached to his ears appears strange, but I give the statement as

he made it. The chain may in some way have become attached to the ears,

or, ridiculous as the story sounds, there may have been some eccentric

person in the party who wore his watch in that way, and if such should

prove to be the case, this would certainly identify him beyond doubt.

While the old woman sat in our igloo giving her statement, or trying to

recollect the circumstances, I succeeded in getting a good portrait

sketch of her, which attracted considerable interest among the natives,

and Ogzeuckjeuwock, who toward the latter part of the interview had

begun to exhibit symptoms of impatience, turned quickly around as soon

as he had finished, and asked to have his portrait taken also, in which

I accommodated him, much to his gratification.

In reviewing the testimony of the foregoing witnesses it appears

confirmatory of the opinion that the skeletons found at this place were

the remains of some of the party who were seen by Ahlangyah and her

friends on Washington Bay. She said that "Toolooah," "Agloocar," and

"Doktook" wore spectacles, and spectacles were found at the boat place.

Gold watches being found, there is also an evidence that there were

officers in the party. It is probable that the five men who had a tent

on shore near the Inuit "tupics" were all officers. It is also a

very natural deduction that the books that were found in a sealed or

locked tin case, which had to be broken open by the natives, were the

more important records of the expedition, and in charge of the chief

surviving officers, as it is not probable that men who were reduced to

the extremity that these were, and having to drag everything by hand,

would burden themselves with general reading matter. The boat, judging

from the relics that we found, was a very heavy one, and copper

bottomed; for most of the kettles that we saw in use among the

Netchilliks were made of sheet copper that they said came from this and

the other boats in Erebus Bay. But the boat was an absolute necessity

and could not be abandoned. There is no doubt, however, that everything

superfluous had been dropped from time to time, until nothing remained

that could possibly be dispensed with, and such books as they had,

besides the Nautical Almanac and Ephemeris, if indeed under the

circumstances they would even carry them, were probably the most

important records of the expedition.

During the year and a half that the 'Erebus' and 'Terror'

were frozen fast in the Victoria Strait, the officers had probably

surveyed the adjacent shores very carefully, and had undoubtedly made

observations that were highly important. Especially would this be the

case with their magnetical observations, as they were right upon the

magnetic pole. We saw some tall and very conspicuous cairns near Cape

Felix, which had no records in them, and were apparently erected as

points of observation from the ships. As their terrible experience

commenced after abandoning the vessels, it is probable that their time

previous to that was occupied in a manner creditable to themselves and

exceedingly valuable to all interested in scientific work. The records

of these observations were in all probability contained in the tin box

which Ogzeuckjeuwock speaks of as having been found and lost beyond

recovery.

An old Netchillik, named Ockarnawole, stated that five years ago he and

his son, who was also present in the igloo, made an excursion along the

north-western coast of King William Land. Between Victory Point and

Cape Felix they found some things in a small cask near the salt water.

In a monument that he did not take down, he found between the stones

five jack-knives and a pair of scissors, also a small flat piece of

tin, now lost; saw no graves at this place, but found what, from his

description of the way the handle was put on, was either an adze or a

pickaxe. A little north of this place found a tent place and three tin

cups. About Victory Point found a grave, with a skeleton, clothes, and

a jack-knife with one blade broken. Saw no books. In a little bay on

the north side of Collinson Inlet saw a quantity of clothes. There was

plenty of snow on the ground at the time they were there.

[Illustration: SNOW-HUTS ON CAPE HERSCHEL.]

Viewing this statement in the light of our subsequent search upon this

ground, I am inclined to believe that the grave they found was not at

Victory Point, but was Irving's grave, about three miles below there.

We saw no evidence of any grave at Victory Point, though we made a

particularly extended search around that entire section of the country.

The little bay spoken of is also probably the little bay where

Lieutenant Irving's grave was discovered. There is a little bay on the

north side of Collinson Inlet, but Lieutenant Schwatka and I visited it

several times without finding any traces of clothing or any other

evidences of white men having been there; and from what we saw at other

places it seems almost impossible that there could have been much there

as late as five years ago without some indications remaining. The

vicinity of places where boats had been destroyed, or camps where

clothing was found, were invariably indicated by pieces of cloth among

the rocks, at greater or less intervals, for a long distance--sometimes

as far as one or two miles on either side, and it would be almost

impossible to escape seeing the principal point when led to it by such

gradually cumulative evidence.

From this camp we went in two marches to Cape Herschel, where we left

the heaviest of our baggage, with Joe and the other Inuits, taking only

the white men of the party, with Toolooah and his family, and Owanork,

Equeesik's youngest brother, to assist in the management of the sled,

and started for Cape Felix on the 17th. We left instructions with Joe

to remain at Cape Herschel as long as they could find enough to eat

there; but if there was more game further down the coast, or on the

main-land, to go there, and leave stones to indicate their route, so

Toolooah would know where to look for them when we returned from Cape

Felix. We took a course but little west of north, and at night encamped

at the head of Washington Bay. Here we left the salt-water ice and

started across land, keeping the same direction, with the intention of

striking Collinson Inlet near its head. Our surprise can then be

imagined when, after two days' travelling, we came out on Erebus Bay,

which we thought was far to the west. This discrepancy was afterward

accounted for when we found, by a comparison with the position of

points between Cape Jane Franklin and Cape Felix, established by Sir

James Ross, and confirmed by the officers of the 'Erebus' and

'Terror', that Cape Herschel is really about eighteen or twenty

miles further west than mapped on the Admiralty charts.

The travelling across land was exceedingly heavy and tedious, owing to

the softening condition of the snow, and to the lakes being covered

with water to the depth of about six or eight inches. In the morning

the slight crust on the snow, formed during the night, would break

through at nearly every step; while during the rest of the day it was

simply wading through slush or water. We found the salt-water ice also

in a bad condition for travelling. It was very old ice, and as hummocky

as it is possible for ice to be. We usually kept near the coast, where

we found pretty good sledging; but one day we took to the hummocks, to

avoid a great detour that following the shore ice would have entailed

upon us, and did it to our sorrow. The fall snows and winter winds had

piled up around and among the hummocks, filling in the interstices, so

that, were the snow frozen, the sledging would not have been so very

difficult; but the sun had already poured his rays upon it, day and

night, for so long a time that the snow was soft, and nearly every step

would break through.

Sometimes we would sink to our waists, and then our legs would be

dangling in slush and water without finding bottom. The sled would

often sink so that the dogs could not pull it out, light as was the

load, and when we would gather round to help them, we could only get an

occasional foothold, perhaps by kneeling in a hummock, or holding on

with one hand while we pulled with the other. Even the dogs could not

pull to any advantage. Some would be floundering in the slush and

water, while others were scrambling over the broken ice, and yet under

all these disadvantages we were able to make a march of ten miles,

through the skill and experience of our Inuit dog driver. Without the

assistance of dogs and natives, it is altogether probable that we would

not have been able to accomplish more than two or three miles at the

best; and I can well understand that Dr. Hayes had so much difficulty

in crossing Smith Sound through the heavy hummocks in the spring of

1861. But at the same time I feel pretty well convinced that with

plenty of good dogs and competent native drivers to manage the sledges,

there is no ice in the Arctic that would prevent an average march of

ten miles a day, with light loads, during the long days of spring. I

would not even stipulate for such an exceptionally excellent guide and

driver as our faithful Toolooah. Such as he are rare anywhere, and

especially so among the Esquimaux. He is not only the best hunter in

his tribe, but the best dog driver, and the most energetic man I have

seen among all the tribes with whom I have come in contact. He is more

like a capable white man, in that respect, than an Esquimau, and there

is a legend in his tribe that he was never known to be tired. It is

certain that to him, more than to all the other natives with us,

combined, is due the success of our enterprise.

When the weather was unpropitious for hunting, and we would be

without food, it was nothing more than the usual Inuit custom to say,

"Ma-muk-poo-now" ("No good"), and sit down to wait for the weather

to improve. But under such circumstances I have known our brave-hearted

Toolooah rise equal to the emergency and go out to hunt for game until

he found it. The others would perhaps go out and look around for a

short time, and if they saw no game would come in, while he would not

get in until nearly midnight, if, as was seldom the case, he came in

empty-handed. I remember one time when we were without food, and moving

into a portion of the country which we knew to be but thinly stocked

with game. The hunters all went out, though the weather was thick with

snow, and the only probability of seeing reindeer was that they might

stumble upon them unobserved by the accident of approaching them

against the wind. The others came in about noon, discouraged, having

seen no game. Toolooah, on the contrary, did not get in until about

five hours later; then he came in for the dogs, to bring in three

reindeer that he had killed a few miles north of the camp. He went out

in a south-westerly direction, and started to make a circuit of the

camp on a radius of about five miles. By this ingenious course he came

upon the fresh tracks of three reindeer, and at once started in

pursuit, determined to follow them until he came up to them. The days

were short, and he had to move rapidly, so that he absolutely ran about

twelve miles until he overtook and killed them. I merely mention this

incident to show the kind of metal our Toolooah is made of; not as a

sample of Inuit character, but as a remarkable contrast to it.

[Illustration: CROSSING EREBUS BAY.]

Our ten-mile march through Erebus Bay occupied fifteen hours, and we

were all pretty well worn out when we reached the shore and encamped,

still some distance below Franklin Point. We lay over the next day, for

Toolooah, who had exerted himself even beyond his great powers of

endurance, was still quite exhausted, and though he expressed his

readiness to resume the journey, Lieutenant Schwatka did not think it

sufficiently urgent to run the risk of breaking him down altogether;

not only out of personal regard for the noble fellow, but, as he was

our sole dependence, losing his services would have been a sad if not a

fatal disaster to the entire party. During the day I shot two of an

apparently distinct species of snipe, to preserve their skins for the

Smithsonian Institute collection. One of them was distinguished by a

sweet, simple song, somewhat similar to the lark's, its silvery tones

gushing forth as if in perfect ecstasy of enjoyment of sunshine and

air; at the same time rising and poising itself upon its wings. It

seemed almost inhuman to kill the sweet little songster, particularly

as it was the only creature I saw in the Arctic that uttered a pleasant

note. All other sounds were such as the scream of the hawk and the

gull, the quack of the duck, the yell of the wolf, the "Ooff! ooff!" of

the walrus, or the bark of the seal--all harsh and unmelodious, save

the tones of this sweet little singer. Nothing but starvation or

scientific research could justify the slaughter of one of these

innocents. I believe I shut my eyes when I pulled the trigger of my

gun, and I know my heart gave a regretful thump when I heard the thud

of its poor, bleeding body upon the ground. When we started for

Franklin Point the next day, Lieutenant Schwatka concluded to follow

Toolooah's advice, and keep upon the smooth ice near the shore, even

though it should increase the distance marched. Our experience of the

hummocks of Victoria Strait was not one that we were anxious to repeat.

We had a short stretch of similar work in crossing the mouth of an

inlet just below Franklin Point, and we were glad enough when we got

through. The thermometer registered thirty-seven degrees in the shade,

and sixty degrees in the sun. There was scarcely any wind, and coats

were a burden of which we had soon to relieve ourselves. The heat while

walking was quite as exhausting as ninety-eight degrees in the shade at

New York. We saw a number of seals on the ice opposite the mouth of the

inlet, and Toolooah shot one which was an unusually big specimen. In

fact, the average of those we saw in this part of the country is much

larger than those at Hudson's Bay.

During the entire day and night small flocks of ducks were flying

swiftly past the tent, and so unaccustomed are they to meeting human

beings in that wilderness, that they would be almost directly on the

tent before they saw it, which only caused them to deviate a little to

the right or left, or put on a little more steam. Lieutenant Schwatka

seated himself on a rock alongside the tent, with his double-barrelled

breech-loading shot-gun in his hand, and in a short time stopped

three--two drakes and a duck. The drakes are exceedingly pretty,

especially about the head and neck. The head is of a pale olive-green

hue, a fashionable color in silks a few years ago, and known by the

extraordinary name of "Elephant's Breath." This gradually merges into a

very pale, warm gray, the line of demarcation between it and the very

dark brown, which constitutes the general color of the body, being very

abrupt. The bill is of a vermilion red, and surmounted by a bright

orange-colored crest, with a black border as positively marked as if of

black tape. At this season we usually see the drakes flying together,

and the ducks in separate bands, reminding one of the division of sexes

in a country meeting-house. We often came upon an immense body of

drakes sitting upon the edge of an ice-floe, looking very much like a

regiment of hussars at a distance drawn up in line of battle. The duck

is not so gaudy as her husband. She is quite contented in a full suit

of mottled brown and olive gray, presenting a texture on the back

somewhat similar to the canvas-back species of Chesapeake Bay. About

half-past ten o'clock in the evening, Toolooah and I walked up to the

crest of a ridge, north of camp, to see if there were any points still

to the north of us in this meridian. We found the coast bearing off

well toward the eastward, and then toward the north-east, and knew it

to be the upper coast of Franklin Point. We also saw a reindeer, which

Toolooah shot before returning to camp.

When we left Franklin Point, the four white men of the party kept upon

the land near the coast, and left the sled in charge of the Inuits to

follow along the shore ice. The snow was entirely off the ridges, and

only lay in great patches of soft slush in the valleys and upon

occasional marshes. We spread out on the land, so as to cover as much

ground in our search as possible, moving along like a line of

skirmishers, with instructions that in case we saw anything that we did

not understand, or which required further investigation, to make

signals to assemble. In this way, before reaching Collinson Inlet, we

found the graves of two white men, near one of which was lying the

upper part of a skull; while within the pile of stones we found the

upper maxilla, with two teeth, and a piece of the cheekbone. No other

human bones were found; but these were laid together for burial on our

return, when we could give a more thorough search.

CHAPTER VIII.

IRVING'S GRAVE.

The next day we stayed at Cape Jane Franklin to make a preliminary

search of the vicinity. Lieutenant Schwatka and I went up Collinson

Inlet, but saw no traces of white men. Henry and Frank, who had been

sent up the coast, were more fortunate. About a mile and a half above

camp they came upon the camp made by Captain Crozier, with his entire

command from the two ships, after abandoning the vessels. There were

several cooking stoves, with their accompanying copper kettles, besides

clothing, blankets, canvas, iron and brass implements, and an open

grave, wherein was found a quantity of blue cloth, part of which seemed

to have been a heavy overcoat, and a part probably wrapped around the

body. There was also a large quantity of canvas in and around the

grave, with coarse stitching through it and the cloth, as though the

body had been incased as if for burial at sea. Several gilt buttons

were found among the rotting cloth and mould in the bottom of the

grave, and a lens, apparently the object-glass of a marine telescope.

Upon one of the stones at the foot of the grave Henry found a medal,

which was thickly covered with grime, and was so much the color of

the clay stone on which it rested as to nearly escape detection. It

proved to be a silver medal, two and a half inches in diameter, with

a bass-relief portrait of George IV., surrounded by the words,

GEORGIUS IIII., D. G. BRITTANNIARUM

REX, 1820.

on the obverse, and on the reverse a laurel wreath surrounded by

SECOND MATHEMATICAL PRIZE, ROYAL

NAVAL COLLEGE,

and inclosing

AWARDED TO JOHN IRVING. MID-

SUMMER, 1830.

This at once identified the grave as that of Lieutenant John Irving,

third officer of the 'Terror'. Under the head was found a figured

silk pocket-handkerchief, neatly folded, the colors and pattern in a

remarkable state of preservation. The skull and a few other bones only

were found in and near by the grave. They were carefully gathered

together, with a few pieces of the cloth and the other articles, to be

brought away for interment where they may hereafter rest undisturbed. A

re-burial on King William Land would be only until the grave was again

found by the natives, when it would certainly be again torn open and

despoiled.

The day after this discovery was made by the men we moved camp to the

vicinity of the grave, and spent two days in searching for other

matters of interest; but there was still some snow on the ground, and

little ponds in the vicinity of the articles were partly frozen, so

that an exhaustive search was impossible. Upon our return from Cape

Felix, on the 11th of July, we found the snow entirely gone, and the

ponds near the shore nearly all dry; we therefore had little difficulty

in completing the search at that time. Among the various articles found

was a brush with the name "H. Wilks" cut in the side, a two-gallon

stone jug stamped "R. Wheatley, wine and spirit merchant, Greenhithe,

Kent," several tin cans, a pickle bottle, and a canvas pulling strap, a

sledge harness marked with a stencil plate "T 11," showing it to have

belonged to the 'Terror'. We also found a stocking, rudely made of

a piece of blanket, showing that they were in need of good stockings,

which are so essential to the comfort of the Arctic traveller. For this

purpose nothing is so good as the fur of the reindeer, but next to that

well-made woollen stockings are the best. It was heart-rending to see

this mute testimony to their destitution.

At our second visit Toolooah's wife found in a pile of stones, where

had formerly stood the cairn seen by Lieutenant Hobson, a piece of

paper which had weathered the storms of more than twenty Arctic

winters. It was with much difficulty that I could open it without

tearing it, while all stood around in anxious expectancy, confident

that it was an additional record from Captain Crozier, as it was in a

tattered and weather-beaten condition.

It, however, proved to be a copy of the Crozier record found by

Lieutenant Hobson, of McClintock's expedition, and was in the

handwriting of Sir Leopold McClintock. The document was written with a

lead pencil on note-paper, and was partially illegible from exposure.

It was literally as follows:--

MAY 7, 1859,

Lat. 69 deg. 38 min., long. 98 deg. 41 min. W.

This cairn was found yesterday by a party from Lady Frank-

lin's discovery yacht 'Fox', now wintering in Bellot Strait * *

* * * * * * a notice of which the following

is * * * removed:--

28TH MAY, 1847.

H. M. ships 'Erebus' and 'Terror' wintered in the ice in lat. 70 deg.

05 min. N., long. 98 deg. 23 min. W., having wintered at Beechy Island,

in lat. 74 deg. 43 min. 28 sec. N., long. 91 deg. 39 min. 15 sec. W.,

after having ascended Wellington Channel to lat. 77 deg., and returned

by the west side of Cornwallis Island.

Sir John Franklin commanding the expedition. All well. A

party of two officers and six men left the ships on Monday, the

24th May.

GRAHAM GORE.

CHARLES F. DES V * * *.

* * * * * into a * * * * *

printed form, which was a request in six languages, that if

picked up it might be forwarded to the British Admiralty.

Round the margin of this paper was:--

THE 25TH APRIL, 1848.

H. M. ships 'Terror' and 'Erebus', were deserted on the 22d

April * * opens to the N. N. Wd. of this, having been beset

since 12th Sept., 1846. The officers and crews, consisting of 105

souls, under the command of Captain F. M. Crozier, landed here

in lat. 69 deg. 37 min. 42 sec. N., long. 98 deg. 41 min. W.

This paper was found by Lieutenant Irving, under the cairn

supposed to have been built by Sir James Ross in 1831, four

miles to the northward, where it had been deposited by the late

Commander Gore in June, 1847. Sir James Ross' pillar has not,

however, been found * * the paper has been transferred

* * * this position which * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * was

erected.

Sir John Franklin died on the 7th of June, 1847, and the total

loss by deaths in the expedition has been * * officers

and fifteen men.

F. M. CROZIER, Captain and Senior Officer.

JAMES FITZ JAMES, Captain H. M. S. 'Erebus'.

And start to-morrow for Back's Fish River.

At this cairn, which we reached * * noon yesterday; the

last cairn appear to have made a selection of gear for travelling--

leaving all that was superfluous strewn about its vicinity. I re-

mained at this spot until nearly noon of to-day, searching for

relics, etc. No other papers * * been found.

It is my intention to follow the land to the S. W., in quest of

the wreck of a ship said by the Esquimaux to be on the beach.

Three other cairns have been found between this and Cape Felix

* * * they contain no infor * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * about it.

WILLIAM R. HOBSON,

Lieut. in charge of party.

This paper is a copy of a record left here by Captain Crozier

when retreating with the crews of the 'Erebus' and 'Terror' to the

Great Fish River--the information of its discovery by Lieut. W.

R. Hobson is intended for me. As the natives appear to have

pulled down a cairn erected here in 1831, I purpose burying a

record at ten feet true north from the centre of this cairn, and at

one foot below the surface.

F. L. McCLINTOCK, Capt. R. N.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The asterisks in the foregoing copy indicate illegible words, the paper

being much torn and soiled by exposure.

We at once set about digging for the record that Captain McClintock

proposed to bury ten feet true north from the centre of the cairn, and

a foot below the surface; but though we dug a deep trench four feet

wide from the centre of the cairn, due north, for a distance of twenty

feet, nothing was found, and the inference is that Captain McClintock

either failed to deposit the record, or that changes in the surface of

the ground have brought it to light, and it has either been stolen by

natives or washed into the sea. Some of the articles found were strewn

along the beach for a long distance on either side of the pile of

clothing and heavy implements, and were covered up with snow when we

first visited the spot. There was a large quantity of cask hoops near

by, but no wood. Even the handles of the shovels and pickaxes had been

sawed off, probably by the natives who first found the place.

This was evidently the spot where the crews landed when they abandoned

the ships, and, as Lieutenant Hobson says, it appears as if they had

selected only what was necessary for their sledge journey. It would

further appear that when the party reached the southern coast of King

William Land after a tedious and wasting journey, and found themselves

fast fading away without being able to reach the main-land, a small

party was sent back to the ships for provisions. The testimony of the

Ookjoolik, who saw the ship that sank off Grant Point, showed that

there were some stores on board even then, though only a small

quantity. It is probable that Lieutenant Irving was the officer in

charge of this return party, and that he died after reaching the camp.

It is also probable that these people, who, according to the Ookjoolik

testimony, drifted with the ship to the island of Grant Point, were

also of this party, and, with the sailors' instinct, preferred to stick

to the ship to returning to the already famishing party which they left

with scarcely any better prospects on the south coast. The appearance

of the boat place on Erebus Bay seems to indicate that it floated

ashore after the ice broke up, and had previously been abandoned by

those who were able to walk. That skeletons were found in the boat by

those who saw it before it was destroyed, and near by by our party,

would seem to indicate that the whole party were in a desperate

condition at the time, otherwise the helpless ones would not have been

abandoned.

Such a state of affairs could scarcely have occurred on their southern

trip, and is a strong indication of a return party. Lieutenant Irving's

death had not occurred when they first left the vicinity of Cape Jane

Franklin, or it would have been mentioned in Captain Crozier's record,

which was written the day before they started for Back's River. That

the boat on Erebus Bay drifted in, is evident from its being found just

at high-water mark, where the debris are still visible. At the time the

party returned under Lieutenant Irving the sleds could not have been

dragged along that line, as the snow would have been off the ground

just then, and probably was gone when the large party got so far on

their way south, as the testimony of the natives who met them in

Washington Bay shows that they moved exceedingly slow by. That there

were men on the ship that drifted down Victoria Strait is additional

reason for believing that they returned, for Captain Crozier in his

record accounts for all the survivors being with him. It is possible

that those who went out to the ship were caught there by the ice

breaking up, and could not rejoin their companions on the shore, if

indeed there were any there, which is doubtful, for we saw no skeletons

at the camping place except Lieutenant Irving's. The ice broke up in

Erebus Bay and Victoria Strait the year we were there on the 24th of

July, and it is probable that it was as late in the season when the

return party reached the camp near Lieutenant Irving's grave.

We left Irving Bay on the 30th of June, caching all our heavy stuff in

order to lighten the sled as much as possible, and reached Cape Felix

on the 3d of July, having lain over one day on the north side of Wall

Bay. We saw no traces of the Franklin expedition until we arrived at

our place of encampment, near Cape Felix. The walking, however, was

developing new tortures for us every day. We were either wading through

the hill-side torrents or lakes, which, frozen on the bottom, made the

footing exceedingly treacherous, or else with seal skin boots, rendered

soft by constant wetting, painfully plodding over sharp clay stones,

set firmly in the ground, with the edges pointing up, or lying flat and

slipping as we stepped upon them and sliding the unwary foot into a

crevice that would seemingly wrench it from the body. These are some of

the features of a walk on King William Land, and yet we moved about ten

miles a day, and made as thorough a search as was possible. All rocky

places that looked anything like opened graves or torn-down cairns--in

fact, all places where stones of any kind seemed to have been gathered

together by human hands--were examined, and by spreading out at such

intervals as the nature of the ground indicated, covered the greatest

amount of territory. Lieutenant Schwatka carried his double-barrelled

shotgun and killed a great many ducks and geese, and I, with my Sharp's

rifle, got an occasional reindeer. We were now on a meat diet

exclusively, and, as most of it was eaten almost as soon as killed, we

all suffered more or less from diarrhoea. Nor did we have any other

food until nine months later, when we reached the ship 'George and

Mary', at Marble Island, except a few pounds of corn starch, which

we had left at Cape Herschel when we started for Cape Felix on the 17th

of June. In due course of time, however, we got used to the diet, and

experienced no greater inconvenience from it than did our native

companions.

Where we encamped, which was about three miles south of Cape Felix,

was what appeared to be a torn-down cairn, and a quantity of canvas

and coarse red woollen stuff, pieces of blue cloth, broken bottles,

and other similar stuff, showing that there had been a permanent

camping place here from the vessels, while a piece of an ornamented

china tea-cup, and cans of preserved potatoes showed that it was in

charge of an officer.

Our flag waved from the highest point of King William Land throughout

the day following, which we were altogether too patriotic to forget was

Independence Day. After firing a national salute from our rifles and

shotguns our day's work was resumed. Henry and Frank were sent to

explore the two points further along the coast, while Lieutenant

Schwatka and I searched the vicinity of the camp and about a mile

inland. It was a dismal, foggy day, but we derived great comfort from

occasional glimpses of our country's flag through the lifting fog, the

only inspiriting sight in this desolate wilderness--a region that fully

illustrates "the abomination of desolation" spoken of by Jeremiah the

prophet.

The next day Lieutenant Schwatka went further inland, Frank and Henry

down the coast, and I took Toolooah, with the sled, and went around the

point toward Cape Sidney, keeping well out on the ice, to see if any

cairn might have been erected to attract attention from that direction.

On the way we stopped and took down a cairn that I had seen on the day

of our arrival. We found nothing in it, though, the earth beneath it

being soft, we dug far down in the hope of finding something to account

for its existence, as Toolooah believed, though he was not certain,

that it was a white man's cairn. I did not go as far as Cape Sidney,

which had been my intention, as a thick fog, which came up as we left

the cairn, rendered the trip useless for the purpose intended, as we

could only get occasional glimpses of the shore, and could not see

inland at all.

Lieutenant Schwatka found a well-built cairn or pillar seven feet high,

on a high hill about two miles back from the coast, and took it down

very carefully without meeting with any record or mark whatever. It was

on a very prominent hill, from which could plainly be seen the trend of

the coast on both the eastern and western shores, and would most

certainly have attracted the attention of any vessels following in the

route of the 'Erebus' and 'Terror', though hidden by intervening hills

from those walking along the coast. The next day Frank, Toolooah, and

I went with Lieutenant Schwatka to take another look in the vicinity of

the cairn, and to see if, with a spy-glass, we could discover any other

cairn looking from that hill, but without success. It seemed unfortunate

that probably the only cairn left standing on King William Land, built

by the hands of white men, should have had no record left in it, as

there it might have been well preserved. When satisfied that no document

had been left there, the inference was that it had been erected in the

pursuit of the scientific work of the expedition, or that it had been

used in alignment with some other object to watch the drift of the

ships. Before leaving we rebuilt the cairn, and deposited in it a record

of the work of the Franklin search party to date.

CHAPTER IX.

ARCTIC COSTUMES.

We left Cape Felix on the 7th of July, reluctantly satisfied that Sir

John Franklin had not been buried in that vicinity. The minuteness of

our search will appear in the number of exploded percussion caps, shot,

and other small articles that were found in various places. The Inuits

who were with us evinced a most remarkable interest in our labors, and

with their eagle eyes were ever finding things that would have escaped

our attention. Everything they did not fully understand they brought to

us, and though many of such things were of no account they were not

discouraged. Since Toolooah had found the inscription scratched on a

clay stone on the monument erected by Captain Hall over the remains

near Pfeffer River, he had always been watchful, and often, while away

from camp hunting, he has come upon a stone near a demolished cairn, or

on some conspicuous place which had marks on that he thought might be

writing. These he invariably brought into camp, though often compelled

to carry them a long distance, in addition to a load of meat. We always

praised his efforts in that line, and were pleased to notice that he

did not get discouraged by repeated failures to discover something of

interest. He is as untiring in his efforts to aid us in our search as

in securing food, and there is always a degree of intelligence

displayed in whatever he undertakes that is wholly foreign to the Inuit

character. Even the stones that he brought into camp bore marks that

were most astonishingly like writing. You could almost read them. If we

had not been so straitened for transportation we would have brought

some of these remarkable specimens home.

As far as we had now progressed scarcely anything had given us more

trouble than the question of clothing. In countries where tailors and

dressmakers are abundant, clothing is a matter of very little labor to

the masses--in fact, it simply resolves itself into a question of

pecuniary resources. The dwellers in civilized cities can, therefore,

scarcely appreciate the toil which all must share to secure the

necessary garments to protect those who live in the highest latitudes.

In the fur of the reindeer nature has provided the best possible

protection from the cold, with the least amount of weight to the

wearer. It might be possible to cover one's self with a sufficient

quantity of woollen clothing to guard against the severest weather

in the north, but it would require a man of immense muscular power

to sustain the load. Two suits of reindeer clothing, weighing in all

about five pounds, are quite ample for any season, and are only worn

in the coldest weather. At other times one suit is all that is

necessary. The inner coat is made of the skin of the reindeer killed

in the early summer, when the hair is short and as soft as velvet,

and is worn with the hairy side next to the bare skin. It is at first

difficult for one to persuade himself that he will be warmer without

his woollen undershirts than with them; but he is not long in

acquiring the knowledge of this fact from experience. The trousers

are made of the same material, as are also the stockings that complete

his inner attire, or, so to speak, his suit of underclothing. This

inner suit--with the addition of a pair of seal or reindeer skin

slippers, with the hair outside, and a pair of seal-skin boots from

which the hair has been removed, with soles of walrus or okejook skin,

and drawing-strings which fasten them just below the knee--comprises

his spring, summer, and fall costume. The boots have also an additional

string passing through loops on the side, over the instep and behind

the heel, which makes them fit comfortably to the ankle.

In winter seal-skin is entirely discarded by the native Esquimaux as

too cold, and boots of reindeer skin, called mit-co-lee-lee', from the

leg of the animal, are substituted, and snow-shoes of the same sort of

skin, with the hair inside, and a false sole of skin from the face of

the buck, with the hair outside, complete the covering of his feet.

This hairy sole not only deadens the sound of his footsteps upon the

hard snow, but makes his feet much warmer, as it has the same effect as

if he were walking upon a carpet of furs instead of upon the naked

snow. In cold or windy weather, when out of doors, the native puts on

another coat, called a koo'-lee-tar, which is made of skin with heavier

fur, from the animal killed in the fall.

The winter skins, with the heaviest and longest fur, are seldom used

for clothing if a sufficient supply of the fall and summer skins has

been secured. They are principally used for making what might be called

the mattress of the bed. Sometimes, however, in the severest weather, a

coat made of the heavy skin is worn when the hunter has to sit by a

seal's blow-hole for hours at a time, without the least motion, waiting

for the animal to come up and blow. In cold weather, when out of doors,

he also wears an outside pair of trousers, called see'-ler-par, which

are worn with the hair outside (all trousers are called kok'-e-lee, the

outside see'-ler-par, and the inside ones e'-loo-par). The inside coat

is called an ar-tee'-gee, and is made like a sack, with a tail

attached, and a hood which can be pulled up over the head at pleasure.

The kok'-e-lee are both made with a drawing-string at the waist, and

only reach a short distance below the knee. They are very wide there,

so that when the wearer sits down his bare knee is exposed. This is not

as disagreeable to the wearer, even in that climate, as one would

naturally suppose, but is really more unpleasant for the spectator, for

he not only sees the bare knee but the film of dirt that incases it.

The coats are very loose also, and expose the bare skin of the stomach

when the wearer reaches his hands above his head.

The coats of the women differ from those of the men only in having a

short tail in front, and a much longer one behind. They also have a

loose bag on each shoulder, and the hood is much longer than the men

wear. The women's outside coats are always made of the short hair, the

same as are their ar-tee'-gee. Their trousers reach further below the

knee, fit closer to the leg, and are worn with the hairy side out.

Women never wear but the one pair in any weather. Their stockings and

boots are made with a sort of wing extension at the ankle, and, coming

up over the bottom of the trousers, have a long strip, by which they

are fastened to the belt that also sustains their trousers at the

waist.

To secure the necessary amount of skins for his family taxes the skill

of the best hunter, for they must be secured in the summer and fall.

Each adult requires six skins for his outfit, besides the number for

the bedding. Take, then, an average family of a hunter, two wives and

three children, and he must have for the adults eighteen skins, eleven

for the children, three for his blanket--one blanket is enough for the

entire family to sleep under--and about five for the mattress--a total

of thirty-seven skins. This is more than many of them can secure during

the short season of good fur; but others may kill many more, now that

they are supplied with fire-arms, and those who have a surplus will

always supply the actual needs of the more unfortunate; but often much

suffering occurs before their wants are met.

When a hunter kills a reindeer, the first thing he does is to skin it;

then he eats some of the warm, quivering flesh. This is a very

important part of his task. He cuts it open and removes the entrails,

and, making a sack of the reticulated stomach, fills it with the blood

that is found in the cavity of the body. He then regales himself with

some of the spinach-like contents of the paunch, and, by way of filling

in the time and the little crinkles in his stomach, cuts off and eats

such little portions of fat as are exposed in the process of

butchering. He then looks around for a stony place and deposits the

carcass conveniently near it, together with the entrails and the bag of

blood. Before cutting the body open it is turned back up, and the strip

of muscles along each side of the backbone is removed, together with

the sinew that covers it. Over this also lies the layer of tallow

(tood-noo) when the animal is fat, as is usually the case in the summer

and fall. The head is then severed from the body and placed on top of

the rest of the meat, so that when the entire mass is covered with

about a ton weight of large stones it is considered secure from the

ravages of foxes and wolves. Not so, however, from the wolverine and

bear--they can open any newly made cache; but after the snows have

fallen, and the stones and meat are frozen in one compact mass, it

requires the ingenuity of man to remove it. This is done by loosening

as large a stone as possible with the foot, and with this stone as a

battering-ram another and larger one is loosened, which in turn serves

as the battering-ram to loosen the others. Often it is found necessary

to use a narrow, wedge-like stone as a lever, or to force the other

stones apart. The cache is always made more conspicuous by leaving the

antlers to protrude above the stones.

After his meat has been secured and he has refreshed himself with a

pipe, the hunter makes a bundle of the skin and the meat attached to

the sinew and tallow, and wends his way to his tupic, where his wife or

wives await him. His favorite wife takes the meat (oo-le-oo-she-nee)

and strips the sinew (oo-le-oo-tic) from it by holding the meat in her

teeth while she cuts the sinew from it with her knife, which is shaped

like a currier's knife. She then chews off the meat that still adheres

to the sinew until it is perfectly clean, and hangs it up to dry, when

it is separated into its fibres and becomes thread (ever-loo). In the

meantime the other wife, with her teeth, cleans the fleshy side of the

skin of the meat and fat that may still adhere to it, and if the sun is

still shining stretches the skin upon the ground to dry, holding it in

place by small stones placed around the edge. At night the skins are

brought into the tent to keep them away from the dogs, and they are

again put out in the sun every day until thoroughly dried. They should

be dried as soon after killing as possible, in order that they may be

in the best condition to preserve the fur.

According to the old traditions and customs--the Mosaic law of the

Esquimaux, so to speak--no work of any kind, except the drying of them,

can be done upon new skins until the ice has formed sufficiently

thickly upon the salt water to permit the hunter to seek the seal at

his agloo or blow-hole. Until that time they are put carefully away in

the tent, and have to be carried from point to point in their nomadic

mode of life, or cached away where they will be presumably secure from

the ravages of dogs and wild animals. When the season for making the

new clothing arrives, that is, when the winter styles come out, then

the work begins. The skins are dressed by the men, because it is hard

work and beyond the power of most women, if they are required to be

nicely dressed. Only one skin is prepared at a time. There is generally

an old man at the head of each family of sons, or sons-in-law, or young

men whom he has brought up and taught to hunt. The entire stock of the

family is then spread out upon the ground some fine day, without regard

to individual claims as having secured them, and are apportioned out by

the patriarch--these for this son's outfit, these for his wife and

children, those for the other hunter and his family, and these extra

fine ones for the patriarch's own use and for his wives.

The clothing for the men must be made first, for they are the lords,

and then they need them first as they must go out hunting, and should

be made as comfortable as possible. The two skins that are to become

his inside coat, and the one for his inner trousers--his dress suit,

as it were--are selected, and the women dampen the fleshy side with

water that is warmed in their mouths and squirted on the skin, to be

spread evenly over the surface with their hands. They are then folded

over, with the damp side in, and put aside where they will not freeze

until the next day. After arising in the morning, and a breakfast of

raw meat, followed by a pipe, he removes his coat, and, with nothing on

from his waist up but the usual dirt, he sits upon his bed, and with a

bone scraper, called a suk-koo, goes over every particle of the skin

upon the fleshy side, breaking it thoroughly and stretching it. Then

comes the woman's first part of the work. It is not considered best to

dry the skin over a lamp, because it has a tendency to harden it

somewhat. It should be dried gradually, and by the heat of the body, so

the woman wraps it around the upper part of her body, next to her skin,

and sits at work until it is thoroughly dried. One who has never had

the experience of exhausting his caloric for the purpose of drying a

wet blanket can have but a vague idea of the exquisite torture of

sitting in a temperature far below zero with no covering upon his

shoulders but a damp reindeer skin. It may not be unhealthy, and

perhaps a physician of the water-cure practice might recommend it for

certain ailments, but it would never become popular as a pleasurable

pastime. At night the other two skins are put in the bed, one beneath

and the other over the sleepers, and by morning are dry. But it seems

almost a miracle that the occupants escape a severe attack of

inflammatory rheumatism. In the morning the man again peels for work,

and with a suk-koo of stone, that has a sharp edge, scrapes off every

particle of the fleshy membrane until the skin becomes soft and pliant,

and assumes a delicate cream-like color.

Only the skins of the does are used for clothing or the sleeping

blanket. Buck skins, which are much less pliable compose the

underlayers of the bed, and these are not scraped, but merely stretched

on a frame while drying. The skin of a young buck is, however,

sometimes used for making the trousers, and is nearly as fine in

texture as the skin of the doe. The skins are now nearly ready for

cutting out and sewing, but first have to be chewed, which is also

women's work.

A man can scrape two skins in a day, and some of the women--many

of them are, indeed, very skillful with their crude, home-made

needles--can make a coat in two days, and a pair of trousers in one

day. Some of the young men, whose wives are good tailors, affect

considerable ornamentation upon the inside coat; but this is usually

seen in the trimming that surrounds the lower edge and the border of

the hood. Successive narrow strips of white and black fur, with very

short hair, compose this trimming, and the lower edge is finished with

fringe made of thin skin, which is quite ornamental in effect. It also

aids in keeping out the wind, and is, therefore, useful as well. The

outside coat is sometimes surrounded with a border of white fur, with

the fringe attached of longer hair than that upon the inner coat. Some

of the belles, and indeed some of the women whose beauty is a thing of

the past, wear a breastplate of beadwork, which is further decorated

with a fringe of reindeer teeth that has a most ghastly effect--they

look so much like human teeth. The style of costume differs but little

among the various tribes of North America; but in any part of the

country the labor of producing the clothing is the same, and if a man

would dress well he must work hard--he cannot order his suit from a

confiding tailor. It has its advantages and disadvantages. He has no

tailor's bills to avoid the payment of, but he must depend upon himself

and a loving and skilful wife.

CHAPTER X.

OVER MELTING SNOWS.

We were now on the march from Cape Felix. Lieutenant Schwatka had kept

about a mile east of Frank and Henry, who walked along the coast, and I

about a mile and a half east of Lieutenant Schwatka. When about a mile

and a half above our old camp at Wall Bay, he found a cairn very

similar in construction to the one he found inland from Cape Felix. The

top had been taken down, but in the first course of stones, covered and

protected by those thrown from the top, he found a piece of paper with

a carefully drawn hand upon it, the index finger pointing at the time

in a southerly direction. The bottom part of the paper, on which rested

the stone that held it in place, had completely rotted off, so that if

there had ever been any writing upon it, that, too, had disappeared. He

called Frank to his assistance, and they spent several hours in

carefully examining the vicinity, without discovering anything else. It

would seem, however, that whatever memorandum or guide it was intended

for was only temporary, and was probably put there by some surveying or

hunting party from the ships.

We encamped on a point below Cape Maria Louisa, after our next march,

and after erecting the tent Owanork found a cache on the flats

containing a wooden canteen, barrel-shaped, marked on one side

NO. 3,

and on the other,

G. B.,

under the Queen's broad arrow. There were also the staves of another

canteen, a small keg, a tin powder can, several red cans marked

GOLDNER'S PATENT,

a narrow-bladed axe, several broken porter and wine bottles stamped

BRISTOL GLASS-WORKS.

and a few barrel staves. The cache was one evidently made by Netchillik

Inuits, who had found the things along the coast. In fact, one of those

we had interviewed mentioned having cached just such articles somewhere

along the coast, and had afterward forgotten the place. This is worthy

of consideration, as indicating that our search was sufficiently

comprehensive to have discovered anything that had been cached away by

the crews of the ships between Cape Felix and Collinson Inlet within

five or six miles of the coast.

The following day Lieutenant Schwatka and I took Toolooah with us

inland, and sent Frank and Henry down the coast toward Victory Point.

From the top of a high hill, about six miles south-east from camp, we

had an uninterrupted view for many miles in every direction, and swept

the entire field with a spy-glass--but saw nothing like a cache or

cairn. It was all a barren waste, with many ponds and lakes, some still

covered with ice, and others, being more shallow, were entirely clear,

as was the case with most of those near the coast. A few patches of

snow could be seen here and there on the hill-sides. We had to cross

one deep snowbank before reaching the crest of the hill, and upon our

descent came upon a depression in the snow, which Toolooah recognized

as a bear's igloo. A few patches of white wool near the entrance

confirmed his opinion. I crawled in as far as I could, to see in what

sort of a house the polar bear hibernated, and found it very much in

size and shape like those of the Inuits. The only difference, as far as

I could see, was that this was dug out of a snowbank, instead of being

built upon the surface and afterward buried by the drift.

The country over which we travelled this day was like all the rest we

had seen in King William Land--broken and jagged clay stone, with

intervening marshes. Little patches of brown and green moss, covered

with delicate purple flowerets, peep up occasionally from among the

piles of dry stones, though there is apparently no vestige of earth or

mould to sustain their delicate lives. These flowers appear as soon as

the snow melts from off the moss, and are most welcome to the eye of

the traveller in this desolate country. How glad we will be to see the

grass and trees of the temperate zone once more, after living so long

in this void! To-day, for the first, time I saw a few delicate little

daisies, and the sight of them carried me in imagination to the woods

and fields of New Jersey. I forgot the salt marshes and red "Jersey

mud;" but even the marshes there would look like flower-gardens after

the clay-stone deserts of King William Land.

[Illustration: CURIOUS FORMATION OF CLAY-STONE.]

We left Irving Bay on the 13th of July, after erecting a monument over

the grave of Lieutenant Irving, and marking a stone to indicate the

object of the cairn. We also buried a copy of the McClintock-Crozier

record, together with the record of our work to date, ten feet north of

the cairn, marking the fact on the tombstone. On our way back to

Franklin Point we buried the skull found on our way up, but found no

further bones until we reached Point Le Vesconte. We saw tenting

places, both of white men and natives, at different points along the

coast, and one cairn that had been torn down and contained nothing. We

found an empty grave on a hill where we encamped, about four miles

below this point, and a skull about a quarter of a mile distant from

it, evidently having been dragged there by wild beasts. The only things

found in the tomb were a large brass buckle and a percussion cap. Near

by were traces of native tenting places. In fact, wherever we found

graves we always found evidences that natives had encamped in the

vicinity, like vultures.

From this camp we marched, to our first camping place on Erebus Bay,

and from there had the most dismal day's work of the entire journey. In

order to pass Erebus Bay on the land, we had to go a long distance

inland to find a place where we could ford a wide and deep river that

empties into it. Throughout the entire length of the river, on both

sides, we had to wade through deep marshes, and at last crossed it

through a swift current, the water reaching to our waists. A dense fog

obscured the sun and hid the bay from view. It was impossible to

ascertain our direction, and we were compelled to follow all the

windings of the river and coast until the fog lifted. In the meantime

we had no idea where the sled was, and as Toolooah had been told that

we would make our usual ten miles' march, he might have gone that far

before looking for us, and we have still a tedious tramp before us

after reaching the bay. At last we heard the dogs, and finally saw the

sled, still at a great distance on the ice. The gale that had been

blowing all day long, and driving the damp, cold mist into our faces,

making it intensely cold and disagreeable, had subsided, and we

signalled Toolooah to join us.

[Illustration: CLAY-STONE MOUNDS.]

It was a joyful sight to see the sled once more alongside the shore,

for, few as were the comforts it contained, it was our only home, and

it meant the shelter and rest of our sleeping bags. We ate our dinner a

little after midnight, and soon forgot our troubles in sleep. While

Henry was cooking the last of our meat, he had occasion to leave the

fire a few moments, when the dogs, seeing an opportunity for a raid,

broke from their fastenings and poured down upon the culinary

department like an army of devouring fiends. We were all in bed at the

time except Henry; but Toolooah, well knowing the state of our larder,

slipped out under the end of the tent, stark naked, from his sleeping

bag, and poured such a shower of stones upon the dogs as to send them

away howling. Fortunately they got nothing but some blubber, of which

we have a good supply, and which is chiefly used to hasten the fire.

The next day the fog and gale recommenced with great fury; but as we

were entirely without food, Toolooah went hunting, and came in about

half-past nine in the evening with parts of three reindeer that he had

succeeded in killing; so we had a good warm meal about midnight, and

turned in out of the bitter cold. Though not in exactly the position to

be epicurean in our tastes, we could not fail to remark with great

satisfaction that the reindeer were getting fat, and the quality of the

meat improving thereby. A little later in the season they were

exceedingly fat, the tallow, or tud-noo, as the Inuits call it, lying

in great flakes, from half an inch to two and a half inches thick,

along the back and over the rump. This tallow has a most delicious

flavor, and is eaten with the meat, either cooked or raw. The

intestines are also incased in lace-work of tallow, which constitutes a

palatable dish. Indeed there is no part of any animal used for food but

what is eaten by the Esquimaux, and which we have partaken of with

great relish. The ribs of fat reindeer are also an especial delicacy. A

dish made of the contents of the paunch, mixed with seal oil, looks

like ice-cream, and is the Esquimau substitute for that confection. It

has none of the flavor, however, of ice-cream, but, as Lieutenant

Schwatka says, may be more likened to "locust sawdust and wild honey."

The first time I partook of this dainty I had unfortunately seen it in

course of preparation, which somewhat marred the relish with which I

might otherwise have eaten it. The confectioner was a toothless old

hag, who mixed the ingredients in a wooden dish dirtier than anything I

ever saw before, and filled with reindeer hairs, which, however, were

not conspicuous when well mingled with the half-churned grass and moss.

She extracted the oil from the blubber by crunching it between her old

gums, and spat it into the dish, stirring it with her fingers until the

entire mass became white, and of about the consistency of cottage

cheese. I ate some, merely to say I had eaten it, and not to offend my

entertainers, but I cannot say I enjoyed it.

We left camp at a quarter past one o'clock the following day, our

starting having to conform somewhat to the state of the tide, as at

high tide we cannot reach the ice. The sledging was simply awful, and

poor Toolooah was having a hard time of it and without a murmur or

discontented look. I expected he would urge us to abridge our search,

as there seemed to be imminent danger of the ice breaking up. But he

constantly told us to go on and search as much as we thought necessary,

and leave the sledging to him; he would do the best he could. It was a

pleasure to see him do it so cheerfully. There is something reassuring

even in the tone in which he addresses the dogs. Many a time we have

started to go through a place that seemed absolutely impassable until I

heard that cheery cry, "Why-ah-woo-ha-hu-ah!" and saw him bend his own

shoulder to the task. It seemed all right then. Even the dogs were more

hopeful, and pulled with renewed energy.

We found the coast on the south side of Erebus Bay cut into long,

narrow points, separated by deep inlets, that made the work of

searching much greater. All along the shore at the bottom of the

inlets, we found pieces of navy blue cloth, which seemed to have been

washed up by high tides. Quantities of driftwood also were seen; but we

already had as much on the sled as, in the present condition of the

ice, we could carry. At the bottom of one of the deepest inlets or

bays, the men found the wreck of a ship's boat strewn along the beach,

together with pieces of cloth, iron, canvas, and human bones. We

gathered together portions of four skeletons, a number of buttons, some

fish lines, copper and iron bolts and rivets, the drag rope of a sled,

some sheet-lead, some shot, bullets, and wire cartridges, pieces of

clothing, broken medicine bottles, the charger of a powder-flask, an

iron lantern, and a quantity of miscellaneous articles that would

naturally form part of the outfit of such an expedition. The bones were

prepared for burial, and the relics gathered together in a pile, from

which to select a few to take away with us. The prow and stern-post of

the boat were in good condition, and a few clinkered boards still hung

together, which measured twenty-eight feet and six inches to where they

were broken off at each end, showing it to have been a very large boat.

We spent several hours here, gathering together the various articles,

in a thick fog and strong north-west wind that came down across the

heavy ice-fields of Victoria Strait and Melville Sound, and was

intensely cold. We then went to the next point south of us at eleven

o'clock, and for four long weary hours walked up and down waiting for

the sled to come up, while new ice was rapidly forming in the margin of

the salt water as the tide went down. When Toolooah at last arrived, we

found he had been compelled to abandon the stoves and firewood as it

was impossible to handle so heavy a sled during the present wretched

condition of the ice. It was after four o'clock when we got to bed, our

blankets and sleeping bags all wet, as it was impossible to keep them

out of the water that everywhere covers the ice.

The next day we remained in camp to bury the remains found at the boat

place, and during the evening I went hunting with Toolooah, who killed

two fine bucks. We got back to camp, tired and sleepy, at half-past two

in the morning The sky was clear and the sunset supreme. It was nothing

unusual for one from the temperate zone to see a magnificent sunset,

but to see a grand combination of sunset and sunrise in one continuous

representation was glorious beyond description. The next day Toolooah

returned to the island off the mouth of the little bay, and brought on

the things he had abandoned there; while we searched the vicinity with

the hope of finding the second boat place, which the natives mentioned

as being about a quarter of a mile from the one seen by McClintock. If

this is the boat seen by him, it is certainly a long way from the

position represented on the maps. We found no trace of a second boat

place anywhere in the neighborhood, though we made an extensive search

for it. We found a deep inlet entering near Point Little, too wide and

deep to cross.

At a quarter past five the next morning, Lieutenant Schwatka and I

started on our search along the coast, leaving the men to assist

Toolooah in loading the sled and making a selection of what to abandon,

if anything had to be left, and to follow later. We had not got more

than a mile on our way when we heard a gun fired from camp, and,

turning around, saw Frank running after us. We waited for him, and were

surprised to hear that the tide, instead of falling, was actually

rising, and that it would be impossible to load the sled. We therefore

had to return to camp. In the meantime it commenced raining, and when

we reached the tent we found the water nearly up to the door, though it

was the hour for low tide. About two hours afterward Lieutenant

Schwatka went outside the hut, and almost immediately called for his

glasses, saying he thought the ice was breaking up. We all went out and

saw the ice coming in from the Straits, and piling up in great masses.

Already the sled was crowded high up in the air, and one of the stoves

occupied a lofty position poised on the pinnacle of a hummock Toolooah

at once got upon a loose cake of ice, and pulled himself out to the

edge of the floe and brought the sled and stove down to where, when the

ice came in closer, they could be pulled ashore, and were thus rescued

from then imminent peril.

[Illustration: THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.]

It was now quite evident that our sledging was over for the season, and

we were stuck here with all our heavy stuff. All day long we could hear

the booming of the ice in the distance, as the great fields were torn

asunder, and we felt thankful that Toolooah had not already got started

when the break came, or he would have been in great danger. At any rate

we might have lost our sled, together with the dogs and all our

baggage, which would have been a sad affair for us. We determined to

cross the land to Terror Bay, and from there send down to Gladman

Point, or that vicinity, all that the dogs and men could carry, while

Lieutenant Schwatka and I waited for their return, and in the meantime

searched the coast back from Terror Bay to the inlet near Point Little.

Terror Bay was reached on the 3d of August, after a tedious journey

across the narrow neck of land that separates it from Erebus Bay. Our

camps were not far apart, as everything had to be carried upon our

backs or upon the dogs. It was necessary to make two, and often three,

trips between camps before everything was brought up, consequently only

two of the Franklin stoves were brought along. The largest and heaviest

of these Henry took in charge, and carried all the way overstrapped to

his back like a knapsack. Toolooah brought the empty sled over, with

all the dogs after removing the bone shoes from the runners.

[Illustration: THE MARCH SOUTHWARD.]

While at our first camp overland, Toolooah had returned to the coast

with the dogs to bring up some firewood, and, not expecting to see any

reindeer, had left his gun in camp. But near the coast he came upon a

she-bear with her half-grown cub. Nothing daunted, he drove the old

bear off into the sea with stones, and killed the cub with a handleless

snow-knife. Henry and Frank, with all the Inuits, left us on the 6th of

August to reach the rest of our party, whom they expected to find

somewhere east of Gladman point. Frank and Henry remained there and

Toolooah returned with the dogs, and moved what we could to the same

point.

Lieutenant Schwatka and I were then left alone to provide for ourselves

until Toolooah's return, which was on the 1st of September. We kept

half of the double tent, and one of the dogs to help us when we moved

camp, and to carry our meat. Reindeer were plentiful, and we killed

eight, which kept us well supplied with food. We could have killed many

more had it been necessary. This was altogether the pleasantest part of

our experience in the Arctic. During the time we were alone we searched

the neighboring coast as far west as Cape Crozier, but found only one

skeleton. The tent place spoken of by Ahlangyah and others--and which

we confidently expected to find without much trouble, marked by

quantities of human bones and clothing scattered far around, as at the

company places at Irving Bay and Cape Felix, and the boat place on

Erebus Bay--could not be found, though Lieutenant Schwatka passed over

the spot that the natives spoke of as the site. This was a great

disappointment to us, and seemed unaccountable until we subsequently

learned from them that it was so close to the water that all traces of

it had disappeared. When we again met the natives we saw one man who

had been there not a great while ago, and said there was nothing to be

seen where he previously saw many skeletons and other indications of

the white men's hospital tent.

In the division of labor at our lonely camps the searching devolved

chiefly upon Lieutenant Schwatka and the cooking and hunting upon me,

though he also killed several reindeer, and I occasionally assisted in

the searching. Our diet was exclusively reindeer meat, eaten either raw

or cooked, and, as the animals were very fat, there was nothing to

complain of in that respect. The quantity that we ate was simply

astonishing; in fact, we found it easier to adapt ourselves to that

phase of Inuit life than any other.

Our greatest discomfort arose from the lack of sufficient shoes and

stockings. It requires women always to keep you comfortable in that

respect. Natives never go anywhere without their women. Our shoes were

completely worn, beyond possibility of repair, and the hair was

entirely worn off our stockings. The consequence was that walking was

torture. I could generally manage to patch up my shoes so that I could

start out hunting when necessary, well knowing they would last only for

a short distance, but trusting to my ambition in the chase to keep me

going, and the necessity of the case to get me back to the tent.

Most of the time we were confined to the tent by storms and fog, and

only a few days were fit for the prosecution of our work.

Unfortunately, the only thermometer we brought from Cape Herschel was

lost, with other articles, from the sled in an ice crack near Wall Bay,

while on our trip to Cape Felix, so we could keep no record of the

temperature. I noticed, however, that there was scarcely a night when

there was not a thin sheet of ice formed near the margin of the ponds.

On the night of the 28th it froze to the depth of about three-quarters

of an inch, and the next night about an inch and a half. It was

sufficiently cold at any time, when the wind blew, to remind us that we

were in the frigid zone. Our experience at this place was of interest

in showing that white men can take care of themselves in this country,

independently of the natives; but at the same time the presence and

assistance of natives add much to the traveller's comfort.

Several days before Toolooah's return we were anxiously looking for

him, as he was to bring in shoes and stockings, and the time was

rapidly passing in which we could complete our search. We had already

finished what was required toward the west, and as far east as was

feasible from this camp. We had therefore made up our minds to move

slowly eastward on the 1st of September, if he did not get back on the

last day of August. A fierce gale, with snow, kept us in camp on that

day; but the returning party, consisting of Toolooah's family with

Equeesik, Mitcolelee and Frank, came in notwithstanding the storm, so

great was their anxiety concerning our safety and comfort. It is

needless to say that we were glad to see them, and when we heard

Toolooah shout from the other side of the hill on which our tent was

pitched, it seemed the pleasantest sound I ever heard. The Inuits had

never known white men to live alone in their country as we had, and

were afraid we were very hungry; but we relieved their anxiety in that

respect by giving them a hearty meal of cooked meat.

We learned from them that the Inuits were all on the main-land, in the

neighborhood of Thunder Cove, and that Joe had been, and still was,

very sick with rheumatism. Henry remained there with them, and

prosecuted the search of Starvation Cove, building a monument over the

remains found there, and depositing a record that Lieutenant Schwatka

had sent to him for that purpose. Before he got there, however, Joe and

a party of Netchilliks had been searching the spot, and in a pile of

stones found a small pewter medal, commemorative of the launch of the

steamer 'Great Britain', in 1843, and among the seaweed some

pieces of blanket and a skull. This was all that could be seen at this

memorable spot.

CHAPTER XI.

AMATEUR ESQUIMAUX.

The prosecution of our search had been largely dependent upon our

imitation of the life of the Esquimaux, and I should omit an important

chapter in "Arcticology" if I did not leave on record the story of our

exploits as amateur Esquimaux in subsisting upon the resources of the

country through which our little exploring party passed, going and

coming, in pursuit of its chief object. The seal was our beef and the

walrus our mutton in this long journey.

Seal-hunting varies with the time of the year and the nature of the

ice, for the seals are seldom killed except upon or through the ice. In

the warm, still days of spring they come up through their blow-holes in

the ice and enjoy a roll in the snow or a quiet nap in the sun. Then

they are killed with comparative case. The hunter gets as close as

possible upon the smooth ice without alarming his prey, the distance

varying from four hundred to one hundred yards. He then lies down, or,

more correctly speaking, reclines upon a small piece of bear-skin,

which, as he moves, is dragged along and kept under him as protection

against the cold and wet. His weight rests chiefly on his left hip, the

knee bent and the leg drawn up beneath him upon the bear-skin mat. As

long as the seal is looking toward him the hunter keeps perfectly

still, or raising his head soon drops it upon his shoulder, uttering a

noise similar to that produced by a seal blowing.

When the seal is satisfied, from a careful inspection, that no danger

threatens, its head drops down upon the ice and it indulges in a few

winks, but suddenly rises and gazes around if it hears the least noise

or sees the least motion anywhere. The hunter takes advantage of the

nap to hitch himself along by means of his right foot and left hand,

preserving his recumbent position all the time, and if detected by the

seal either stops suddenly and blows, or flops around like a seal

enjoying a sun bath, as his experience suggests. In this way he can

usually approach near enough to shoot his prey with a rifle, or strike

it with a seal spear or oo-nar. Often, however, just as he is about to

shoot or spear his game, it slips suddenly into the sea through its

hole, upon the very verge of which it rests, seldom venturing further

than a foot or two from its safe retreat. If they could only rest

contented with a fair shot, the Inuits would probably secure more game

than they now do, for the most of those I have seen them lose in this

way went down after the hunter had approached within easy range--say

twelve or fifteen yards. They are so anxious, however, to make a sure

thing of it that they often try to get too near. I have frequently

timed an Inuit as he started for a seal on the ice, and found it takes

about an hour from the time he starts in pursuit until the shot is

fired. It is amusing to watch the countenance of the seal through a

spy-glass. They have such an intelligent and human look that you can

almost imagine what they are thinking. For instance, you will see one

start up suddenly and look at the hunter, who by that time is perfectly

still, with an intense scrutiny that seems to say, "I declare I was

almost sure I saw that move that time, but I must have been mistaken."

Then, with a drowsy look, almost a yawn, down goes his head, and the

hunter begins to hitch himself along again very cautiously. Suddenly up

goes the seal's head so quickly that the hunter hasn't time to subside

as before, but begins to roll about, blow off steam, and lift its feet

around like a seal flapping its tail, and at a little distance it is

really difficult to tell which is the seal and which the man. Then you

imagine a smile on the face of the seal, as though he was saying to

himself, "I caught him that time. What a fool I was to be frightened,

though. I thought it was a man, and it's only an ookjook."

When the hunter at last reaches the point at which he considers it safe

to risk a shot, you hear the report of his gun and see him immediately

spring to his feet and rush for his prey. If his bullet strikes the

head or neck of the animal it rarely gets away, though sometimes even

then it slips out of reach, so close do they keep to their holes. If it

is hit anywhere else it almost invariably escapes the hunter, though it

may not escape death. Often the hunter reaches the hole in time to

seize his prey by the hind flipper just as it is passing down into the

water. I remember standing and gazing mournfully down into a hole one

day through which a seal that I had shot had just escaped, though his

blood tinged the water and edges of the ice, and while I was lamenting

my ill-luck I heard a splash behind me and turned in time to see the

seal come up through another hole. He looked awfully sick, and didn't

see me until I had him by the flipper, sprawling on his back, at a safe

distance from the hole. This was quite good luck for me, for such an

opportunity rarely occurs, though I have occasionally known Toolooah to

recover a lost one in the same way.

When struck with a spear they seldom escape, for the line is fastened

to the side of the spear-head, which detaches itself from the staff and

holds in the flesh like a harpoon. Sometimes, however, the seal will

slip away after the spear is thrown, and, instead of striking him, it

strikes the ice where he had been lying. This is very aggravating after

the cold and tedious labor of working up upon it has been accomplished;

but the Esquimau bears his misfortune with equanimity. It is seldom

that he says more than "ma-muk'-poo now" (no good), or "mar-me an'-ner"

(which means "angry," or is an expression used when one is angry). He

gathers up his weapons, sits down and lights his pipe, and after a

recuperative smoke moves on in search of another opportunity to go

through the same process.

Sometimes he is fortunate enough to find a seal absolutely asleep upon

the ice, and then he can walk right up alongside of him and put the

rifle barrel to his ear before firing. In some parts of the Arctic, as

at Iwillik (Repulse Bay), there is a species called "wandering seal,"

which in the spring are known to come upon the ice in great numbers,

usually through a huge crack, and move quite a distance from the open

water. This affords the natives a grand opportunity, and the entire

village--men, women and children--repair to the spot, and by getting

between the seals and the water, cut off their escape, so that they

fall an easy prey to the clubs with which they are slaughtered by the

men. In this way they sometimes kill as many as seventy-five or a

hundred in a single day. But the haunts of the "wandering seal" are not

found everywhere; they are favored localities. It is generally pretty

hard work to kill a seal.

During the winter months the seals do not come out upon the ice, and

are then hunted usually with dogs that are trained for the purpose. The

hunter, equipped with his spear-shaft in his hand, and his line, with

the barbed spear-head attached, thrown over his shoulder, starts out,

leading his dog, whose harness is on and the trace wound several times

around his neck, so that but a yard or two is left to trail along the

snow. When they reach the wide stretch of smooth ice that usually lines

the shore in these regions, the dog is allowed to work to windward, and

when his sensitive nostrils are saluted with the scent of a seal he

indicates the fact by the excited manner in which he endeavors to reach

the spot from which the odor emanates. The hunter restrains the dog's

ardor, but follows his guidance until the spot is found at which the

seal's blow-hole is situated. Often it is entirely covered with snow,

but sometimes a small hole about an inch in diameter is seen. The

blow-hole is a spot to which the seal resorts to get an occasional puff

of fresh air, and here the hunter awaits him in order to secure him for

the larder. When first found, the hunter merely marks the spot for a

future visit by building around it a wall of snow blocks to cut off the

wind, and making a seat of similar material upon which to rest while

waiting for the blow. This is the tedious proceeding in the life of an

Esquimau, or at least would be for a civilized person so situated.

Sometimes the seal comes up within half an hour or an hour, but often

the hunter stands or sits by the hole all night long, and sometimes for

a day or two. I have heard of instances in which they sat for two days

and a half waiting for the seal to put in an appearance. In fact, Papa

told me that he once sat for three days at one seal hole, and then it

did not come up. During all this time the hunter must keep perfectly

still--that is, he must not walk around or move his feet off the ice.

He can move his body to keep up a circulation of the blood, or move his

feet inside his stockings if they are sufficiently loose to allow of

such motion, but no noise must occur which would alarm the game if in

the vicinity of the hunter.

Some funny incidents occur at these prolonged sittings. I remember one

experienced old seal-hunter who told me that when he was a young man he

was once out all night watching a blow-hole and got very sleepy--so

sleepy, indeed, that he could not keep his eyes open. After vainly

endeavoring to arouse himself, he finally succumbed, and, falling

asleep, tumbled over backward and wandered in the land of dreams.

Suddenly awakening he saw what he supposed to be a man with hostile

intentions standing and looking down upon him through the dim

starlight. Every time he moved in the least, in order to get up, the

strange man moved in a threatening sort of way, and he had to lie still

again. At last, after getting thoroughly awakened, he discovered what

he had taken for an enemy, and had caused him such alarm, was only his

own leg sticking up in the air and resting against the snow-block seat

from which he had tumbled when he fell asleep. Another hunter was

overcome by sleep at a seal hole, and awakened by the consciousness of

danger, saw a great white bear watching the hole, which in his

sleepiness he had neglected. The hunter had fallen behind his snow seat

in such a way as to be concealed from the bear, which had been

attracted by the scent of the seal and arrived just at the moment when

the young man awoke. To jump to his feet and fly from the vicinity of

danger was, with the frightened Esquimau, the work of a minute, and so

startled the bear that it also made off in the opposite direction as

fast as feet would carry it.

When the seal comes up to breathe it stays about ten minutes, which

gives the hunter plenty of time to get his spear and line ready. He

then must take accurate aim and make a vigorous thrust through the

little hole, withdrawing the spear quickly and holding the line

tightly, so as to exhaust the game as much as possible before the line

is all run out. The end is wound tightly around his right arm, and he

sits down, bracing himself to resist the struggles of the animal to

free itself. It usually makes three desperate efforts to escape, and

then the hunter begins to haul in on his line, and, breaking away the

snow around the hole, to admit of the passage of the body, lands his

prey on the ice.

The next operation at this stage of the proceedings is to make a slit

in the stomach of the sometimes still breathing animal, and to cut off

some of the warm liver (ting'-yer), with a slice or two of blubber

(oks-zook), wherewith the hunter regales himself with a hearty

luncheon. Then the entrails are drawn out and passed through the

fingers of the left hand to remove the contents, and are afterward

braided and returned to the cavity of the stomach, and the slit drawn

together and pinned with a little ivory pin (too-bit-tow'-yer) made for

the purpose. The dog is allowed to lick the blood from the snow, but

gets no more for his share unless an opportunity occurs to help himself

when his master's back is turned. The trace is then attached to the

nose of the dead seal, which is thus dragged into camp by the faithful

dog, the hunter walking alongside urging the dog by his voice, and

occasionally assisting him over a drift or amid hummocky ice.

The seal in the early spring builds a habitation in the snow over and

around the hole through which it breathes, and here its young are born

and live until old enough to venture into the water. This house is

called an oglow, and is constructed very much like an Esquimau igloo in

shape, though it is more irregular and has ramifications that extend to

neighboring holes. These oglows are found with the assistance of dogs,

as previously described, or by prodding with a seal spear the hillocks

of snow that look like seals' houses. When a hunter finds an oglow

during the season that the young seals are living in them, he

immediately breaks in the roof with his heel in search of the little

one, which usually remains very quiet even when the hunter looks down

and pokes his head through the broken roof. The young seal is then

easily killed with the spear and dragged out on the ice, and the hunter

waits for the mother, which is never absent a long time from its baby.

The young seal is generally cut open as soon as killed, and its little

stomach examined for milk, which is esteemed a great luxury by the

Esquimaux. When young, the seal is covered with long, white hair, very

much like coarse wool. This skin was at one time very much used in

making clothing, but lately has not been much in vogue among the

natives, though occasionally coats and trousers of this material may

still be seen. The whalers esteem it highly as an adjunct to woollen

clothing, as being sufficiently warm for those who are living on

shipboard, yet not so warm as reindeer clothing, which becomes

oppressive in high temperature.

The older seals have short, smooth hair, of a yellowish-gray color,

with large black spots on the back, which become smaller and less

frequent on the sides, and disappear entirely before reaching the

belly. The finest quality of seal-skin in the eastern North American

waters, which are devoid of fur seal, is that of the kos-se-gear, or

fresh-water seal, which is found at or near the mouths of nearly all

rivers emptying into the sea. This species of seal is marked very

much like the common seal (net-chuk), except that the spots are of a

more positive and a glossier black, while the body color is whiter,

making a more decided contrast. The hair is also of a much finer

texture, and is as soft as the finest quality of velvet. These are

only killed in the early summer, and their skins are extensively used

for summer clothing by those Esquimaux who have not come much in contact

with the whalers. When they have been in communication with the ships,

they are usually, during the summer months, clad in cast-off clothing

of the sailors--that is, the men are. And funny enough they look, with

the curious methods they have of wearing civilized costumes. They always

choose a shirt for the exterior garment, and wear it with the tail

outside. The women seldom are seen with any civilized clothing, the

only exception being, probably, a few of the natives of Cumberland Sound

and Akkolead, near North Bay. The finest quality of kossegear skins I

have seen were killed in Hudson's Strait. They are much superior in

texture and color to those of the tributaries to Hudson's Bay. The next

skin in quality is that of the ki-od-del-lik, or "jumping" seal, or, as

it is sometimes called, "spotted" seal. This is very similar in color

and texture to the fresh-water seal, except that the black in the back

and sides is in great splotches that are odd, but very pretty in effect.

Kioddelliks are seen in great numbers in Hudson's Bay and Strait, but

are not often killed, as they generally keep pretty well out from shore.

They are often seen by the whalers, playing like a school of porpoises,

whose actions they simulate somewhat, except that they make a clean

breach from the water every time they jump.

The nets-che-wuk, "bladder-nosed" seal, has a skin which is a grade or

two superior to the netchuk, and is much larger. It, however, lacks the

fineness and gloss of the kossegear and kioddellik.

The largest of the seal species is the ookjook. Its skin is thick and

coarse, with coarse, short hair. It is not used in the manufacture of

clothing, except for the soles of rum-nigs (boots). It is, however,

employed to make walrus and seal lines, lashings for their sleds, and

traces for dog harness. It is as much used for this purpose as is the

skin of the walrus, which it much resembles. In making lines from

ookjook or walrus skin, a piece is cut from the neck or body by making

cross sections--that is, without slitting it down the belly, the piece

for the line being removed from the body in a broad band. The blubber

is then cut from the fleshy side, and the skin is soaked for a short

time in hot water, after which the hair is readily removed with an

ood-loo, the semicircular knife that is the one constant and only tool

of the Esquimau woman. A line is then made by cutting this piece of skin

into one continuous strip, half an inch wide, by following around and

around the band. The line is then about twenty-five yards long, and

while still green is stretched between two large rocks, where it is

submitted to the greatest tension that the limited mechanical

appliances of these savages can supply. While so situated the line is

carefully trimmed with a sharp knife to remove all fatty particles, and

to partially round off the sharp edges.

It is then allowed to remain until thoroughly dry, when it is taken

from the stretcher and coiled up in the owner's tent until he has

leisure to finish it and render it pliable. This is accomplished by

the slow and tedious process of chewing. Traces and lines for the seal

spears are usually made of seal skin, and in the same way as walrus

and ookjook lines. They also require chewing before being sufficiently

pliable for use. Indeed, all skins require to be chewed before they

are made into clothing. The men chew their lines, but all other skins

are chewed by the women and young girls. It is one circumstance that

is early remarked by the visitor in the Arctic regions, that the

middle-aged and old people have teeth that are worn down to mere stubs

by the constant chewing of skins. A pair of ookjook soles, before being

submitted to the chewing process, are nearly as thick and much stiffer

than the sole-leather of civilized commerce, and it requires the

leisure hours of two days to reduce them to the necessary pliability

for use. It is not only the action of the grinders that brings them to

the proper state, but the warm breath and saliva play an effectual part

in the process. This is usually their visiting work. When they go to

each other's tupics or igloos to make calls, instead of taking their

knitting, the belles of the polar circle take their chewing. It does

not add much to the charms of female society to see them sitting before

you gnawing and sucking a pair of ookjook soles, or twisting an entire

seal-skin into a roll, one end of which is thrust into a capacious

mouth to undergo the masticating and lubricating process. But it does

increase your respect for them to see with what cheerfulness these

women apply themselves to their exceedingly disagreeable labor.

Seal-skins for making coats and trousers are dressed with the hair on,

the fleshy membranes, or "mum'-me," being cut off with an oodloo before

they are washed, stretched, and dried. One good warm spring day is

sufficient to dry a seal-skin, which for this purpose is stretched over

the ground or snow by means of long wooden pins, which keep it elevated

two or three inches, thus allowing the air to circulate underneath it.

Sometimes in the early spring, before the sun attains sufficient power,

a few skins for immediate use are dried over the lamps in the igloos.

This, however, is regarded as a slow and troublesome process, and the

open air is preferred when available. A few seal-skins and walrus

skins, from which the hair has been neatly removed, are left to hang in

the wind and sun for several days, until they acquire a creamy

whiteness, and are then used for trimming. The Kinnepatoos, who are the

dandies of the Esquimau nation, tan nearly all their skins white. Their

walrus and seal lines, and indeed their sled lashings and dog harness,

are sometimes white, as well as the trimmings of their boots and

gloves. Nearly all the varieties of seal are sometimes killed during

the summer and fall, while swimming in the open water; but though often

seen when the weather is calm, the Esquimaux seldom fire at them,

because until the latter part of September they will sink to the

bottom, though killed instantly by a shot through the head or neck.

At a later period a funny incident occurred. We were at Marble Island.

The weather was calm, so that seal heads were sprinkled plentifully

upon the surface of the water. This inspired Lieutenant Schwatka to

try his skill. So, fetching his rifle from the cabin and wiping his

eye-glasses, he shot at a large head about a hundred yards from the

vessel. The seal made a desperate effort to get down in a hurry, but

was evidently badly hurt, and showed a good deal of blood before it

accomplished its descent. Presently it came up again, and a boat was

lowered to pick it up, but it managed to escape capture, though it was

evident that it would soon die. After breakfast the next morning, when

we went on deck, the water was still quite smooth, and presently we

were surprised to see what appeared to be a dead seal floating in on

the tide. There was no doubt that this was the seal that Lieutenant

Schwatka had killed the previous night, and again the boat was lowered

to secure it. No precautions were deemed necessary to avoid making a

noise, and when the boat came alongside one of the men threw down his

oar, rolled up his sleeves, and stooped down to lift the carcass on

board. His surprise may be imagined when, after passing his arms around

it and proceeding to lift it, he felt it suddenly begin to struggle and

slip from his hold and dive below the surface, while a loud shout went

up from the spectators. It was not Lieutenant Schwatka's seal, but an

entirely well one that was sound asleep when it felt the rude embrace

of the sailor.

The seal is an exceedingly useful animal to the Esquimau, for it not

only supplies him with food and clothing, but its blubber furnishes the

fuel for cooking its flesh, lighting the igloo, and drying its skin

before making into clothing. The skin also is made into dog harness and

traces, whip lashes, boots and shoes, gun-covers, water-pails, bags for

the storing of oil and blubber, and his boats are covered with it.

Seal-skin bags, inflated and fastened to walrus lines, are used in

hunting walrus and whales, and finally, the summer dwelling of the

Esquimau is a tent made of seal-skin. A single tent, or tupic, as it

is called by them, is composed of from five to ten skins, which are

split--that is, the mumme is split off and dried separately from the

skin. The rear portion of the tent is made of the skins with the hairy

side out, while the front is made of the transparent mumme, which

admits the light almost as freely as if made of ground glass. The skin

portion is impervious to water, but the mumme admits the rain about as

readily as it does the sunlight. This is no objection, in the mind of

the Esquimau, for it is something he is thoroughly accustomed to. In the

summer his tent is wet with rain, and in the winter, whenever the air

in the igloo is raised to an endurable temperature, the roof melts and

is constantly dripping ice-water down his back or upon his blankets.

CHAPTER XII.

WALRUS DIET.

The staple food of the Esquimaux of North Hudson's Bay and Melville

Peninsula is "ivick" (walrus). The season for killing the walrus

lasts nearly all the year--that is, all the time when the natives are

not inland hunting reindeer, in order to secure sufficient skins to

make their winter clothing and sleeping blankets. The Kinnepatoos, who

inhabit the shore of Hudson's Bay in the vicinity of Chesterfield Inlet

and its tributaries, are the only tribe I know of who live almost

exclusively upon the reindeer. Indeed, they only kill a sufficient

number of walrus and seal to provide them with shoes and gloves for

summer wear. The Netchillik and Ookjoolik tribes live mostly by

sealing, and as they are not provided with fire-arms, find it almost

impossible to kill reindeer when the snow is on the ground. The

Ooquesiksillik people, who live on Back's Great Fish River and its

tributary, Hayes River, live almost exclusively on fish. The Iwillik

tribe, that inhabits the coast of Hudson's Bay from near the mouth of

Chesterfield Inlet to Repulse Bay, the Igloolik, Amitigoke, Sekoselar,

Akkolear, and, indeed, all the various tribes along the northern shore

of Hudson's Strait, Fox Channel, and Southampton Island, rely chiefly

upon walrus meat for their food. The walrus is one of the largest

animals that inhabits these waters, and when one is killed it supplies

a quantity of food. An average-sized walrus weighs about a thousand or

twelve hundred pounds, and when it is remembered that every particle is

eaten except the hardest bones, the reader will see that it is a

valuable prize for the captors. The blood, blubber, intestines, even

the hide, the undigested contents of the stomach, and the softer bones,

as well as the oesophagus and windpipe, are all eaten, raw or cooked.

If my experience might be mentioned, I would say that all of these

enumerated delicacies I have eaten and relished. Walruses are usually

found resting upon the ice near the edge of the floe or the shore

piece, unless there is much loose ice near it, in which case they will

most always be found on the larger cakes of loose ice.

There they are hunted in boats, or when the wind is from such a

direction as to keep the pack on to the floe they can be successfully

hunted on foot. The method of hunting is precisely the same as that

already described in reference to hunting seal, except that the spear

is generally used in preference to the rifle to secure the walrus, and

the rifle is preferred to the spear in seal-hunting. Usually there are

two hunters who approach the walrus, one hiding behind the other, so

that the two appear but as one. When the spear is thrown, both hold

on to the line, which is wound around their arms so as to cause as

much friction as possible, in order to exhaust the animal speedily.

The spear-head is of walrus tusk, and is about three inches long and

three-quarters of an inch thick, with an iron barb that is kept very

sharp. The line is attached to the middle of the spear-head, the near

end being slanted, so that when the line is tightened it lies cross-wise

in the wound, like a harpoon, and it is almost impossible for it to draw

out after once passing through the tough hide of the animal. When the

line is nearly run out, the end of the spear-shaft is passed through a

loop in the end of the line and held firmly by digging a little hole in

the ice for the end of the spear to rest in, the foot resting upon the

line and against the spear to steady it. This gives the hunter an

immense advantage over his powerful game, and if he is fortunate enough

to secure this hold, there is no escape for the walrus except that the

line may cut on the edge of the sharp ice, or the thin ice break off,

and hunter, line, and all be precipitated into the water--a not unusual

experience in walrus hunting. Another cause of misfortune is for the

line to become entangled around the arm of the hunter, so that he

cannot cast it off, in which case he is most assuredly drawn into the

sea, and in nine cases out of ten drowned, for his knife is seldom at

hand for an emergency, and no amount of experience will ever induce an

Inuit to provide against danger.

Sometimes the hunter is alone when he strikes a walrus, and in that

case it requires considerable dexterity to secure the spear hold in the

ice; or if he fails to get that he may sit down and brace his feet

against a small hummock, when it comes to a sheer contest of muscle

between the hunter and the walrus. In these contests victory generally

perches upon the banner of the walrus, though the Inuit will never give

up until the last extremity is reached. Often he is dragged to the very

edge of the ice before he finds a protuberance against which to brace

his feet, and often he is drawn down under the ice before he will

relinquish his hold. He is very tenacious under such circumstances, for

he knows that when he loses the walrus he loses his line and harpoon

also.

Occasionally a dead walrus is found with a harpoon and line fastened to

him, in which case the walrus and line belong to the finder. I remember

a curious incident of this kind that occurred at Depot Island. Toolooah

and Ebierbing (Esquimau Joe) were hunting together and Toolooah struck

a fine young bull walrus, and got the spear hold against the ice for

Joe to hold. It is a powerful hold, and a child could hold a whale in

that way if the line did not break. But poor unfortunate Joe, for some

unaccountable reason, raised the spear, and, of course, the line was

drawn from under his foot, and both walrus and line were lost,

notwithstanding Toolooah and Sebeucktolee (familiarly "Blacksmith")

caught the running line and held until their hands were cut to the

bone. They did not know at this time that another walrus had been

killed a mile or two further along the edge of the floe. The loss of

the line was also a sad misfortune. Joe felt so badly about it that he

was ashamed to come in, and walked several miles farther along the ice

with an Inuit companion, in the hope of killing a seal with his rifle;

but Toolooah, who had taken no rifle, inasmuch as he had taken a spear

and line instead, returned to camp and came into the igloo which he and

I occupied in common, looking very much dejected in consequence of the

loss of his walrus and line, the circumstances of which he explained to

me, showing his terribly lacerated hands. The fact that another walrus

had been killed was a relief to him, but did not dissipate his grief

for the lost line, which was the last we had.

About half-past ten o'clock that night, while we were eating some

boiled walrus meat and entrails (about the fifth meal since four

o'clock on the afternoon, when the meat arrived), some one came to the

entrance of the igloo and handed in Toolooah's walrus line, saying Joe

and Blucher had found the walrus dead upon the ice near where it was

struck, the animal having crawled out and died after the hunters had

left. Now for the first time Toolooah's face brightened up, and he was

so impatient to hear the circumstances of the recovery of the lost game

that, late as it was, he went to Joe's igloo to inquire. He soon

returned with an exceedingly woebegone expression, for which I failed

to elicit an explanation until the morning, when I found out from Joe

that, according to the laws and customs of the Inuits the walrus

belonged to him because he found it.

"What interest has Toolooah in it?" said I.

"None," was Joe's reply. "All over here country same way. Man he

strikee walrus; let he go again; somebody else findee; he walrus."

"Well, Joe, suppose the somebody else lets the walrus go, how is it

then?"

"All same way."

"So Toolooah has no interest in that walrus he killed and that you let

go again?"

"Yes, all same way here country. But I give'm back he line last night.

Line my, all same; I findee."

"That was certainly noble in you, Joe, I am sure."

"Oh, yes; Toolooah my friend."

And so, I noticed, always was the case whenever there was any doubt

about a point; "custom here country" always managed to give Joe the

best of it, and I came to the conclusion that he had become pretty

thoroughly civilized during his residence in the United States.

Sometimes an inflated seal-skin, called an ah-wah-tah, is attached to

the end of the line, that buoys it up and soon exhausts the wounded

walrus. This is a very good plan, but is not considered advantageous

when working in loose ice unless hunting from a boat, for the wounded

animal is apt to get beyond the reach of the hunter. After the ice

disappears walruses are then killed on the small islands, to which they

resort to sleep, and are sometimes found in great numbers.

In the fall of 1878 I went with a party of Inuit hunters to a small

rocky island opposite Daly Bay, where we found a herd of from

seventy-five to a hundred, most of them asleep; but some were

complaining and grunting, and punching their bed-fellows with their

long tusks. Our approach was made cautiously up the slippery side of

a wet rock until within range, when at the suggestion of my Inuit

companions I fired at a fine young bull, being instructed to hit him

just behind the ear. I did so, and sent a 320-grain slug from my

Sharp's rifle through his skull. His head dropped to the ground and he

never moved a muscle. At the same time another shot was fired by one of

the Inuits; but the hunter's foot slipped at the same moment, and the

bullet whistled harmlessly over the heads of the herd. A grand rush was

then made by all the hunters, and the walruses were wriggling and

sliding down the slimy rocks into the sea. One of the Inuits darted his

harpoon into what he took to be a sleeping walrus, but it proved to be

the one I had already killed. I followed into the midst of the herd and

put a bullet through the head of another bull before they had all left

the rock. Had Oxeomadiddlee not struck a dead walrus we might have had

three, for an ahwahtah was attached to his line, so that we could have

regained it at any time with the boat. The walrus never appeared to me

the dangerous animal I have known him to be represented. If wounded and

brought to bay he will certainly turn upon his assailants, and many

Inuits have been killed in these encounters, while others still bear

scars received from the tusks of those which they were hunting. But as

long as there appears to be a chance to escape by flight the walrus

usually will seek safety in that way.

One of my companions in this hunt--Toogoolar, or Oxeomadiddlee, as he

is usually called--is a famous walrus hunter, and his success is

probably largely due to his immense physical strength. He is a perfect

Esquimau Samson, and when he is on one end of a line, with his feet

braced against a hummock, the walrus at the other end has no advantage.

Indeed, the odds are in favor of Oxeomadiddlee. His singular name is

self-imposed, and is an Inuit expression of greeting, or rather when

one unexpectedly arrives, as the clown says, "Here we are again," and

occurred in this way. Several years ago he was hunting walrus in the

pack-ice, when the wind changed and blew the ice away from shore. This

is a contingency to which the hunters are constantly liable, and is the

greatest danger to which they are subjected in their pursuit. Many are

thus carried away, sometimes out to sea, and are never heard from

again; while others have been drifted a long distance from their homes

before the drift again touched the shore-ice and allowed them to find

their way back, if possible. Sometimes they starve to death before the

ice again lands, though occasionally they are quite comfortable under

such circumstances, as, for instance, were four who were carried off

just before we started on our trip to King William Land a year ago last

spring. Equeesik and his brother Owanork, who were to accompany us, and

Nanook and Blucher were thus carried off from Depot Island, with one of

our sleds and a dead walrus which they were cutting up at the time.

They did not get back for four or five days, but suffered scarcely at

all while away. They built an igloo on the largest cake they could

reach, and of course had plenty to eat. They made a lamp of walrus

hide, and burned the blubber to heat their house. When the ice touched

the shore below Chesterfield Inlet they jumped on the sled and drove

home. There is always more or less risk attending these adventures

under all circumstances.

The time of which I was speaking that Toogoolar was carried away, he

was gone a long time, until, indeed, his tribe had given up all hope

of his returning. But one morning during a severe snow-storm he arrived

in camp, and no one had noticed his approach until, crawling through

the door of an igloo, he stood amid his friends and exclaimed,

"Ox'-e-o-ma-did'-dle-e" (Good-morning. Here we are again). He had been

carried from Repulse Bay to the vicinity of Whale Point, when an

easterly wind drove the pack on shore and he escaped, but had to make

his way on foot from there back home again. He had his walrus line and

spear with him, and had killed a walrus while in the pack; but the

piece that held his food was broken off and floated away from him, so

that he was for many days without anything to eat. Inuits are somewhat

accustomed to such experiences, and can be deprived of food for a long

time without starving. When a walrus is killed it takes some time to

cut it up and prepare it for removal to camp. There are usually several

helpers in the vicinity of any one who carries a line and spear. Others

walk along the edge of the pack until they find some one working up to

a walrus, or a party engaged in cutting it up.

According to Inuit custom, all who arrive while the walrus is being cut

up, no matter how many, are entitled to a share of it. The man who

strikes it, however, has the first pick, which, if there are four of

them, is one of the hind quarters; if there are only two or three, he

has both hind flippers if he prefer them, and is always entitled to the

head, which contains some of the choicest morsels either for cooking or

eating raw. I know of nothing more palatable in that climate during

winter and spring than raw frozen walrus head and tongue. It is not an

inviting-looking dish, but is most enjoyable. The meat is hard, but not

particularly tough--for walrus--and consists of alternate layers of

lean and fat. It is eaten with the addition of more blubber, and is

generally the occasion of a common feast for all the men in the camp.

If there is any left the women can eat it if they want to, but the

women never eat with the men, and if the tupic or igloo where the feast

is being held is small, even the women that dwell there are banished

until the feast is over. An ookjook, when killed, is divided up in the

same way as a walrus, all the bystanders receiving a share. In making

the division of the carcass the portions are kept in a bag made by

lacing the edges of the skin that holds the share with a line made of a

strip of the raw hide. In this bag are also deposited such portions of

the entrails, liver, etc., as fall to the share of each. In hunting on

foot the men usually take one or two dogs apiece to drag home their

dividends. When encamped upon a hill, such as Depot Island, which

commands a view of an extensive tract of ice, the natives seldom go

walrus hunting unless they first see one on the ice, in which case one

of the best hunters starts immediately with his weapons, and the

"bummers" follow later with a sled and dogs. The arrival of a sled-load

of walrus meat into a hungry camp is one of the most cheerful sights

that it ever falls to the lot of a traveller to witness, and I have

noticed that his interest is seldom diminished by the fact that his own

is one of the hungry stomachs to be fed from this plenty. The women see

the sled coming, while still at a great distance, and then the big

stone lamps are lit, and snow put into the kettles to melt, so that no

time need be wasted after the meat gets there. The cooking is seldom

done in each dwelling separately; but he who has the largest kettle or

the biggest heart, when his own meal is ready, goes to the door of his

igloo or tupic and calls out, "O-yook, O-yook," which means warm food,

and all the men and boys gather in, each with a knife in his hand, and

without further ceremony they fall to and devour what is set before

them. The largest part of an Inuit's food is, however, eaten raw. These

o-yooks are merely festal occasions, though they occur several times a

day, and may happen at any hour of the day or night when the natives

are assembled in villages and have plenty of food on hand. It is then

that they recompense themselves for starvings in the past or in

prospect.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE RETURN.

We reached our permanent camp on our return from King William Land on

September 19th. It was about six miles south-east of Gladman Point, and

at the foot of a high hill, which Toolooah remarked would make a good

look-out tower for deer-hunting. All along this part of the coast,

where Simpson Strait is narrowest, would soon swarm with reindeer

waiting for the salt water to freeze, so they could continue their

navigation southward. It is for this reason that we selected it as our

permanent camp while we also awaited the freezing of the strait, so

that we could cross with our heavy sleds. When Henry and Frank went

down the coast they found reindeer everywhere else but at Gladman Point

and that neighborhood, and were there for three days without food. In

the meantime Toolooah crossed the strait in a kyack and found the

natives. On his return he killed a reindeer on the main-land and

relieved their distress. Long before we reached the spot the meadows

and ponds were frozen, so that we could cross them with perfect

impunity. In many places the ice was so clear that it required

considerable moral courage to step upon it, it looked so exactly like

still water.

[Illustration: SCHWATKA'S PERMANENT CAMP.]

Henry came up to see us the next day, his camp being about seven miles

below. The Inuits crossed to the King William Land side on the 17th. It

was a picturesque sight to see the whole of Joe's and Ishnark's

families, with Henry and a number of dogs, upon a raft made by lashing

together four kyacks. They had to choose a still day for the crossing,

and keep very quiet while upon the raft. Lieutenant Schwatka paid a

visit to the other camp on the 22d, and the day following Toolooah and

I moved our camp about two miles farther east, to a large lake, where

we at once set to work, the ice being already eight inches thick, to

build an ice igloo of large slabs three feet by six, which standing on

end and so placed as to support each other, formed the walls, which

afterward were covered with the tent, and made a much warmer house than

the tent alone, as it is a complete shelter against the wind.

[Illustration: HENRY KLUTSCHAK'S CAMP.]

Reindeer were now seen daily in immense herds. The day we moved camp we

ran upon a herd of about fifty, and Toolooah killed seven before they

could get away, following them up, running and dropping on his knee to

fire. So rapid and effective was his delivery with his Winchester

repeating carbine, that this unequalled achievement was accomplished in

less than ten minutes; and, well knowing that it was to his splendid

weapon that the credit largely belonged, this undemonstrative savage

held up his rifle and kissed it while he was talking to me about the

affair. On the 30th Toolooah killed twelve reindeer, Joe eight, and

Equeesik and I each three, making a grand total of twenty-six by our

party alone in one day.

We ate quantities of reindeer tallow with our meat, probably about half

our daily food. Breakfast is eaten raw and frozen, but we generally

have a warm meal in the evening. Fuel is hard to obtain, and consists

entirely of a vine-like moss called ik-shoot-ik. Reindeer tallow is

also used for a light. A small flat stone serves for a candlestick, on

which a lump of tallow is placed, close to a piece of fibrous moss

called mun-ne, which is used for a wick. The tallow melting runs down

upon the stone and is immediately absorbed by the moss. This makes a

very cheerful and pleasant light, but is most exasperating to a hungry

man, as it smells exactly like frying meat. Eating such quantities of

tallow is a great benefit in this climate, and we can easily see the

effect of it in the comfort with which we meet the cold. The mean

temperature for the month of September was 22.1 degrees Fahr., and the

lowest 5 degrees, and yet though we wore only our woollen clothes,

except a fur koo-li-tar, or overcoat, when away from home, the cold is

not annoying. During October the mean temperature was -0 degree, and

the lowest -38 degrees.

On the afternoon of the 27th of September a heavy snow-storm set in,

and the next morning the snow was knee-deep on the level ice. The storm

continued until during the night of the 29th. The snow was very deep,

but the winter winds soon blew it around and packed it down so as to be

almost solid. By the 14th of October the sledging was sufficiently good

for Toolooah to go to Cape Herschel and Terror Bay for the sled and

other articles that were left there during the summer for the want of

transportation. As his little boy would suffer with the cold, Toolooah

exchanged wives with Joe for the trip, a very usual and convenient

custom among the Esquimaux.

The ice was sufficiently strong for the reindeer to commence crossing

to the main-land about the 1st of October, and in a few days their

numbers had very perceptibly diminished. After the 14th we saw none at

all; they seemed to have entirely disappeared. The Inuits had been very

busy making up fur clothing for the winter trip, and we had fixed upon

the 1st of November as the day for starting, by which time everything

would be ready. Toolooah got back on the 23d. He killed three bears the

day he reached Terror Bay. All of them got into the water, and he had

to go to the edge of the new ice, using a pole to stand upon while

fishing them out. He killed one reindeer at Cape Herschel, which was

all he saw while away.

Joe came up and built an igloo adjoining ours on the 3d of October. He

wanted to get away from the vicinity of Ogzeuckjeuwock, the Netchillik

Arn-ket-ko, or medicine-man, of whom he was apparently very much

afraid. He alleged that the medicine-man was constantly advising his

people to kill some of our party. Joe said that he had sak-ki-yon to

that effect--that is, during one of his inspirations exhorted them to

that end. There is no doubt but they would be very glad to kill us all,

and get our guns and knives, but they were thoroughly afraid to

undertake it. After Toolooah's return he and Joe gathered in the meat

we had cached in the vicinity, preparatory to starting on the 1st of

the next month.

Lieutenant Schwatka decided that he and I would take Toolooah's sled,

with Joe to assist, and go by the way of Smith and Grant Points, and

through the big inlet spoken of by the natives as putting in from

Wilmot Bay, and meet the other sleds which, in charge of Henry, would

go by the way of Richardson Point and Back's River, meeting at the bend

of the river above the Dangerous Rapids, where we would find the

Ooqueesiksillik natives and take on board a supply of fish to last us

until we reached the reindeer country once more. As the other sleds had

the shorter route, they would start a day or two later and wait for us

at the appointed rendezvous, unless they were getting short of food, in

which case they would push on into the reindeer country. Narleyow, the

Ooqueesiksillik guide, would accompany them. We started on the 1st, as

proposed, but did not succeed in getting farther than the shore of the

strait, about three miles from camp, owing to the heavy sleds and the

dogs being so fat that they were lazy. We took Ishnark's sled to help

us for the first day, as we had such a quantity of meat--one sled

loaded entirely with it and the other with about half a load. We had to

keep the extra sled the following day also, as we wanted to get well

over the salt-water ice.

We had fondly hoped to be at the Dangerous Rapids by the 10th or 15th

of November, but we only reached the native camp near the mouth of

Kigmuktoo (Sherman Inlet) on the 12th, owing to our heavily loaded sled

and the much bad weather, fogs, and wind that would blow the snow

around so that we could not see our course. There was quite a large

camp of Netchillik and Ookwolik Esquimaux on a big lake near the mouth

of Sherman Inlet, the largest camp we had yet seen. The sled was

pulling heavily and slowly across the lake, and I went ahead toward the

igloos. All the men were standing outside awaiting our arrival, and

among them were some Netchilliks we had met during the spring. As soon

as they recognized me they set up a great shout of "Many-tu-me!" which

is their salutation of welcome, and means smooth. They seemed very glad

that we were coming among them again, and hurried me into a big, warm

igloo, while most of the men ran out and helped the sled in. They built

our igloo in short order, and during the time we were with them did

everything in their power to contribute to our comfort. It seemed as if

some one was on the roof of our igloo all the time patching up holes,

and they changed the direction of the doorway every time the wind

changed, and that kept them busy nearly all the time.

We found but few interesting relics among them. Only a piece of the

boat found in Wilmot Bay after the big ship sunk, and part of the block

branded either "10" or "O R," with part of the R obliterated. If the

ship's blocks were branded with the name of the vessel to which they

were attached, this would be important as establishing the identity of

the ship that drifted down as the 'Terror'. As an instance of the

perversity of fate, I mention that we found among them a piece of wax

candle that they had preserved all these years, while every scrap of

paper had perished. We saw here a Netchillik, named Issebluet, who with

his family had nearly starved to death during the summer. He was

separated from the rest of his tribe, as it is customary for them to

scatter during the summer, and though not lacking in skill or energy,

had simply been unfortunate and unable to procure food. He was still

very thin and weak when we saw him, and when he went abroad had to take

a couple of dogs, whose traces, tied around his waist, helped him

along. Joe was very much frightened all the time we were here, for

Netchillik Toolooah was here also--the man who it was said wanted to

kill some of our party--and Joe said they intended to kill all our

party except the women, and obtain possession of the baggage and the

two women. He said their apparent kindness was only a blind, and the

day we left them he made me prance around with my pistol in my belt

while the sled was being loaded. Toolooah, though not so nervous as

Joe, had his rifle handy and kept his eye upon it closely. I noticed

that the men all stood around, but never offered to assist in loading

the sled. Toolooah said they could not very well without exposing a

fact that he had noticed--that they all had their knives in their

sleeves. But if they had, they took good care not to use them. Two of

them accompanied us a part of the way to show us the easiest route over

the heavy hill we had to cross before reaching the salt-water ice, and

kindly put their shoulders to the load whenever the sled pulled hard. I

saw nothing in the conduct of any of them to complain of, but

everything to praise. I noticed that most of the men in this camp had

their hair cut close to their heads, the style that at home is

profanely called "a Reilly cut." This I ascertained was not for

personal adornment, but for convenience in hunting, where fine-tooth

combs are unknown, but could be put to good use.

We met a sled with a few natives coming from Kigmuktoo to join the rest

of the tribe on the lake, and with them was an aged crone named

Toolooah, who had seen white men in Boothia Isthmus, when a young

woman, and had also been with the party who found the boat and

skeletons in Starvation Cove, near Richardson Point. She confirmed the

testimony previously obtained in every essential particular. We gave

her a few needles and a spoon, for which she was very grateful,

especially to her namesake, our Toolooah, to whom she gave her

walking-stick and two locks of her hair, which he severed with a

snow-knife as she knelt beside the sled. This was a charm to protect

him from evil until he got home. Besides this old woman there were three

other women on the sled. One I noticed particularly, because she looked

so much like the Goddess of Liberty. Her hood was over her head and hung

with the same jaunty air as a liberty cap, and her artiger, cut loose in

the throat, looked not unlike the classic toga. Though not quite so

large as the statue on the dome of the Capitol at Washington, she was

immense, and had arms like a gymnast. Modesty, either natural or

assumed, and fear of the strange white men made her keep on the

opposite side of the sled from us, though, as Lieutenant Schwatka

remarked, she could have handled both of us if she wanted to.

We marched in a south-east direction in the inlet five days, during

which we travelled upon it about forty-five miles, and when we left it

could still see it running in a southerly direction for about ten or

fifteen miles farther. It is bottle-shaped, not more than a mile wide

at its mouth, and for a considerable distance, when it gradually widens

out to five or six miles, and is about twenty miles wide at its head.

Nearly every night we were able to find water in some lake on the land,

but had to carry it from two to four miles into camp. This duty

Lieutenant Schwatka and I took upon ourselves, while the Inuits were

building and preparing the igloo.

The sun was so low now that we had either sunrise or sunset during the

whole time it was above the horizon. At noon it was not more than four

degrees high. We were gradually moving southward, or we would have been

left with nothing but this light during the daytime. In fact, several

days before we left Back's River, the sun only showed his diameter

above the hills along the shore, where it lazily rolled for a few

minutes and left us the long twilight in which to build our igloos,

which were scarely ever finished before the utter darkness came upon

us. Short days, together with our heavy sleds, and dogs not more than

half fed, kept us back most provokingly. The snow on the land was soft,

not having got thoroughly packed as yet, while the intense cold covered

its surface with minute particles of ice that impeded the sled like so

much sand. In many places the river and lakes were entirely denuded of

snow, and the bare ice would take the ice from our runners as if we

were moving over rocks. As long as the river ice was bare this made no

difference; the sled would slip along merrily, the dogs on a run, but

this seldom lasted for more than half a mile, when we would again run

upon snow and have all the more laborious drag as a consequence. Our

usual marches at this time were from five to ten miles, instead of from

ten to twenty, as on our way north.

The most unpleasant feature of winter travelling is the waiting for an

igloo to be built. To those at work even this time can be made to pass

pleasantly, and there is plenty that even the white men of a party can

do that would keep them busy, and consequently comfortable. When

travelling overland the halt is made, if possible, on some lake where a

water hole may be dug. This, through average ice--that is, about six or

seven feet--will take about an hour and a half, though an expert native

will do it in perhaps half that time. It is a blessing to get water at

this time, and a great shout goes up from the well-digger, as the

delicious fluid comes bubbling up through the narrow well, that is

echoed by the igloo builders and spreads throughout the camp. Then the

women repair with tin dippers and cups cut from musk-ox horn, and after

refreshing themselves carry a drink to their husbands. One can drink

enormously at this time, especially after working; but it will be well

to keep up pretty violent exercise for some time afterward, as filling

the stomach with such a quantity of ice-cold water will soon produce a

shiver.

Another task that the white men can interest themselves in is the

unloading of the sled and beating the snow and ice out of the fur

bed-clothing. The Esquimaux do not use sleeping bags for themselves,

but instead have a blanket which they spread over them, while under them

are several skins, not only to keep the body away from the snow, but

also to prevent the body from thawing the snow couch and thus making a

hole that would soon wet the skins. While on the march the skins for

the bed are usually spread over the top of the loaded sledge, and then

the whole is securely lashed down with seal-skin thongs. It is the

invariable custom to turn the fur-side of the skins up, because it is

easy enough to beat the snow from the hair, while it might thaw and

make the skin-side wet. You often, therefore, find that water has

fallen upon the skin that makes your bed, and formed a great patch of

ice, which has to be beaten off with a wooden club.

Until experience has taught you it makes you shudder to think that soon

your naked body is to rest upon the place where now you see that patch

of ice. But continued pounding will remove every vestige of it without

disturbing the fur, if the weather is sufficiently cold. Therefore

exposure is the best treatment for bedding, though it certainly gives

the skins a degree of cold that can scarcely be appreciated until

experienced. It is astonishing, however, how soon the bed becomes warm

from the heat of the body. For, perhaps, from five to ten minutes you

may lie there and shiver, when gradually a genial warmth begins to

pervade the whole body, the shiver subsides, and you are as

comfortable, as far as cold is concerned, in bed in an igloo in the

Arctic, as you would be in a civilized mansion in the temperate zone.

The Esquimaux are not acquainted with the qualities of the magnetic

needle, and, it is needless to say, do not travel by the compass. Like

all savage tribes they have, however, methods for keeping their

direction while making long voyages. These are usually made on the

salt-water ice, and they follow the land; but when travelling over

land, either in summer or winter, they can generally distinguish north

from south, at least approximately. In summer the running vines point

to the salt water, they say, which, in going around Hudson's Bay, would

indicate the south. And then there are certain species of moss that are

only found in the vicinity of salt water. In winter they notice the

ridges of snow along the ice, or the land spots on the highlands, and

can keep their course by them with surprising accuracy.

The Esquimaux, however, are not a people given to exploration. They are

not curious concerning unknown territory. What they are chiefly

interested in is, "what they shall eat and drink, and wherewithal they

shall be clothed." Certain districts within their knowledge furnish the

different kinds of game, and these they visit at the accustomed

seasons. Occasionally they will visit neighboring tribes, and sometimes

settle down in the new country, depending upon their skill in the chase

for the support of their families. But this country, new to them, is

well known to those whom they visit, and they have the benefit of

competent guides until such time as they are sufficiently acquainted

with the country themselves. Though they are constantly moving in

summer and winter, their journeys are seldom extended. They will

sometimes go from the mouth of Chesterfield Inlet to the Wager River or

Repulse Bay, and occasionally to the tribes at the north part of

Melville Peninsula, but generally spend one year at least at some

intermediate point. The tribes they pass through on these journeys are

so connected by marriage as to be almost like one large tribe, so that

they are all the time in the land of their friends.

Twice since leaving the Inuit camp in Wilmot Bay the dogs had an

interval of eight days between meals, and were in no condition for hard

work. That they could live and do any work at all seemed marvellous. I

am constrained to believe that the Esquimau dog will do more work, and

with less food, than any other draught animal existing. On the night of

the 20th Lieutenant Schwatka observed a meridian culmination of the

moon, which showed in latitude 67 deg. 32 min. 42 sec. north, only

three miles from our reckoning. It is a difficult task to make

astronomical observations with a sextant in a temperature thirty-eight

degrees below zero, or seventy below the freezing-point, as it was this

night. It is not pleasant to sit still for any length of time in such

weather. A thin skim of ice over the surface of the kerosene oil used

for an artificial horizon has to be constantly removed by the warm

breath of an assistant. The sextant glasses become obscure from the

freezing upon them of the breath of the observer, and can only be

cleaned with the warm fingers, which they blister in return for such

kindness. These are some of the obstacles to determining one's position

astronomically in an Arctic winter; while in summer, there being no

night, one is dependent upon the sun alone. The mean temperature for

November was -23.3 degrees and the lowest noted -49 degrees.

We ran upon a narrow strip of salt water, apparently an inlet from

Cockburn Bay, on the 28th. We had to halt the next day for Toolooah to

rest, as he was completely prostrated with the hard work of the last

four days. We moved, however, on the 30th, Joe driving and Toolooah

strolling along at his ease. We emerged upon Cockburn Bay soon after

starting, and crossed to the southern shore by noontime, a distance of

about nine miles, our rapid moving being entirely owing to the

superiority of the sledging on salt-water ice.

We crossed the narrow neck of land between Cockburn Bay and the

fresh-water portion of the river between the two great bends in three

days' travel, and emerged about eight miles above the Dangerous Rapids

on the 5th of December, where we had hoped to be by the 15th of

November. Our igloos were made on the southern bank, and we were greatly

surprised that we saw no sled tracks in crossing the river. We had

supposed that they, with the shorter route and smooth salt-water ice

nearly all the way, would have been ahead of us, and either waiting or

forced to move into the reindeer country for food. Our first object,

therefore, was to find the natives, who live here all the year round,

as Narleyow, one of the tribe, who was with Henry, constantly assured

us was the case. From these people we expected to get information

concerning the other sleds, and also to get a large quantity of fish for

food for man and beast. We found some fish caches near our camp, and

some sled tracks and footprints about one mile and a half farther down

the river, which Joe said led a long distance. The day after our arrival

we appropriated one large cache to feed our starving dogs, and then

started the next day for their camp to pay for the fish and buy more.

But shortly after all the men started, one of the women ran out and

called us back, saying that Inuits were coming to the igloo. We hastened

back and found three young men of the Ooqueesiksillik tribe, who had

found their cache robbed and traced the tracks to our igloo. Joe

explained the case to them, and said we had knives to pay for the fish

and to buy more, which they said would be gladly accepted, and they

would tell their people to bring us more fish that night. We were

astonished when they said they had neither seen nor heard of any others

of our party.

That night, after the igloo was closed and we were eating our evening

meal, we heard a sled drive up to the door and supposed our fish had

arrived; but what was our joy when we recognized Koumania's voice

driving the dogs, and then heard Henry at the door of our igloo. We

then learned that they had reached the Dangerous Rapids only that

afternoon, and while building the igloos the three young men we had

seen in the morning returned and reported having seen us up the river.

As soon as Henry heard this he had the load dumped from one of the

sleds, and took Koumania to drive and an Ooqueesiksillik native as

guide, and came at once to report. He said it had been very difficult

to get his party of natives away from the camps that they met daily,

and that they had moved by portages, which doubled the distance. He had

bought dog food of the natives all along the route, and his dogs were,

consequently, in good order. They would remain in camp where they were

a day or two to feed up the dogs and get what fish they wanted for his

two sleds, and then join us on the 10th.

About five miles inland from Starvation Cove the natives had found

during the summer the skeleton of a white man which no one had ever

seen before. On the way down, Henry visited the place and erected a

monument over the remains. The pieces of clothing found indicated that

deceased was a sailor, not an officer. The finding of this grave is

worthy of notice, as showing that the natives were thoroughly aroused

by our visit and its object. We had promised them liberal rewards for

everything of importance found, and for valuable information--that is,

anything new--and were always particular to keep our promises. The

consequence was that they had greatly aided us by searching everywhere

within reach of their camps or hunting grounds. In approaching the

Dangerous Rapids from Cockburn Bay, Henry had found an island where on

the Admiralty chart is marked a point of the mainland. In fact, there

is a delta at the mouth of the river. Narleyow led them to a place in

the branch of the river flowing to the westward of this island, where

he said a rocky ridge froze to the bottom, making a pocket which held

fish. They dug four holes within an area of ten feet, and in one day

caught fifty-seven of the immense salmon for which this river is

famous. He cooked one for us, which was the largest I ever saw. Joe

measured the cross-section of one he saw in the native igloos below our

camp that measured over one foot. I asked him how much over, but he

couldn't tell, he said, as his pocket measure was "only a foot long".

[Illustration: VIEW ON BACK'S RIVER.]

The largest number of fish caught here are what the natives call

"cow-e-sil-lik," and are peculiar to these waters. They are something

like very large herring, and the flesh much coarser than salmon or

trout. All the fish here are quite fat, the salmon especially. We bought

several bags of salmon oil from the natives, which we used, so long as

it lasted, as a substitute for reindeer tallow, which is all gone now.

The weather is intensely cold -62 degrees Fahrenheit on the 10th, the

day the remainder of our party rejoined us at this camp. There was

scarcely any wind, and it did not seem so cold as at -10 degrees or -20

degrees, with the wind blowing in one's face, as it was the last few

days of our travelling, with the thermometer at -46 degrees and -48

degrees. Yet we were so well fortified against the cold by the

quantities of fat we had eaten that we did not mind it. The prospect

was that now we were out of fat we would suffer a great deal with the

intense cold that we might expect in going across land from Back's

River to Hudson's Bay.

The rapids on Back's River are all marked by open water, and are

recognizable at a long distance by the column of black smoke arising

from them like steam from a boiling caldron. The ice in the vicinity is

dangerous to travel upon, there often being thin places, where the

moving water has nearly, but not quite, cut through, and not

distinguishable from the surrounding ice, which may be four or five

feet thick. The natives test it, before going upon it, with a knife or

stick, and know from the sound whether or not it is safe to travel

upon. In some of the many open water places that we found in our

journey up the river we could walk boldly up to the very edge and lie

down and quench our thirst from the rushing torrent, while in other

places it was not safe to go within several hundred yards of the open

water. On the 20th we passed open rapids about half a mile long, where

we had to take the land. From the top of the hill it was a grand

spectacle to look down upon the seething torrent and see the great

cakes of ice broken off above and crushed to atoms as they passed

through and under the ice below.

[Illustration: THE DANGEROUS RAPIDS, BACK'S RIVER.]

We had hoped to have Narleyow go with us to Depot Island, as he had

previously been up Back's River and knew a route overland by which in

three days we could reach a river where some Kinnepatoos were encamped

all the year round. Here we could refit with meat and clothing and

follow the river, which flows into Chesterfield Inlet, and then keep

upon the salt-water ice to Depot Island. But with true Inuit

perverseness he decided at the last minute not to go. He, however, gave

Toolooah minute directions for finding the place where to leave Back's

River, which is nearly as far west as Lake McDougal, and the route

overland, where we would find sledge tracks and footprints to guide us

to the camp.

We found the travelling on Back's River much more tedious than we had

anticipated, owing to the bare ice in the vicinity of the open-water

rapids and the intense cold which kept the air filled with minute

particles of ice from the freezing of the steam of the open water.

These little particles of ice would fall upon the hard snow, which

otherwise would have been good sledging, and remain separated from each

other so that you could brush them up like sand, and were, in fact,

nearly as hard as sand, so that it was almost impossible to drag the

sledges along. The thermometer would frequently register -50 degrees

and -60 degrees when we were moving with a strong wind blowing directly

in our faces. Such travelling as this is simply terrible, and it is

astonishing that we were able to do it without encountering any severe

frost-bites. Indeed, we travelled one day with the thermometer -69

degrees, and, a gale blowing at this time, both white men and Inuits

were more or less frost-bitten, but merely the little nippings of nose,

cheeks, and wrists that one soon gets accustomed to in this country. As

Lieutenant Schwatka says, it is like almost all other dangers that you

hear and read about, they seem to dwindle when you meet them boldly

face to face. A battle always seems more terrible to those in the rear

than to those in the front lines.

It was a noticeable fact that our course up the river was considerably

east of south, instead of west, as mapped upon the Admiralty chart.

There could be no mistake in regard to this when we could daily see the

sun rise and set on the right of our general line of travel. It was

near the end of December before we reached the vicinity of Mount

Meadowbank, though we had hoped to be far beyond it by that time.

Storms had kept us in camp several days during the journey up the

river, and our provisions were nearly all exhausted, so that we had to

lie over to hunt for game. The hunters could find nothing near the

river, and were obliged to go with a sled one day's march to the east,

build an igloo, and hunt from there. It was terribly cold for them,

sleeping in an igloo, without fire or blankets, merely a shelter from

the wind, and forced, as they were, to sleep in their clothes. I have

had such experience and know what it is. In such cases one suffers more

from cold feet than anything else. They would be intensely cold with

dry stockings, but one's stockings are always wet from perspiration

after walking, and when compelled to wear them at night cause great

suffering.

Equeesik killed four reindeer, and we had to wait for them to be

brought in. At this time this was all the food we had, and before more

was obtained we were upon short rations. The dogs were beginning to

feel the effect of hard work, cold weather, and low diet, and already

we had lost two fine young dogs that died in consequence of privation.

Before we had reached Depot Island we lost twenty-seven dogs, all but

four of which died from the hardships incident to the journey. All

hands were in harness whenever we marched, and the work was too hard to

admit of feeling the cold as the greatest discomfort we had to

encounter.

CHAPTER XIV.

FAMINE.

The last day we travelled on the river, December 28th, the thermometer

had registered during the day -69 degrees in the morning, -64 degrees

at noon, and -68 degrees at five o'clock in the evening; the lowest,

101 degrees below the freezing-point. Toolooah, Joe, and Ishnark went

hunting the next day, but were unfortunate in not being able to secure

any game, though they saw a small herd of reindeer. Toolooah reported

the land sledging in good condition toward the south-east, much better

than upon the river, and said there appeared to be plenty of game a

day's march from the river in that direction. Lieutenant Schwatka,

therefore, decided to abandon the river at once and strike directly for

Depot Island, which had the advantage of being a straighter route than

the one by the unsurveyed river proposed by Narleyow. With a guide that

would have been feasible; but it would be running much risk to attempt

to find our way by the longer route in a country whose game we knew

nothing of, with a large party dependent upon the very difficult

hunting for support.

It is a difficult matter to keep guns in working order in the intensely

cold weather we were experiencing. At sixty and seventy degrees below

zero everything freezes. Even the iron and wood are affected. Strong

oak and hickory will break almost like icicles, and when guns were

brought into the warmer temperature of an igloo to clean, they would

gather moisture, which had to be removed from every portion of the lock

and working parts before again meeting the cold, or they would be

worthless as weapons. They must also be kept free from oil or any kind

of grease, as all lubricants of that sort will harden and prevent the

working of the lock. It is but fair to state in this connection that

our fire-arms, in which all the best American manufacturers were

represented, worked admirably under these trying circumstances, and I

feel justified in saying that it was their superiority in rapid and

accurate delivery, in the hands of good hunters, that carried us

through this ordeal. It is a matter of great difficulty to get near

enough to such wary game as the reindeer, in winter, when the sound of

the hunter's footsteps, though the soles of his shoes are covered with

fur, is carried on the wind and can be distinctly heard more than a

mile away. I have frequently heard the crunching of the sled runners on

the brittle snow--a ringing sound like striking bars of steel--a

distance of over two miles. It was one advantage in travelling against

a head wind, to counterbalance the discomfort, that it carried the

sound of the sleds away from game we might be approaching. After the

first day's march from Back's River we were never compelled to lie in

camp for the purposes of hunting game, for when we did come upon a herd

the breech-loaders and magazine-guns did their work so effectively that

we could lay in a stock of meat for a day or two ahead.

We left Back's River behind on the last day of the year, and made about

seven miles in a south-east direction, and encamped and stopped to

hunt, the last halt we made for that purpose. The mean temperature for

December was -50.4 degrees Fahrenheit, the lowest -69 degrees, and the

highest -26 degrees. January 3d the thermometer reached the lowest

point that we saw during our sojourn in this climate--in the morning

-70 degrees, at noon -69 degrees, and at five o'clock in the afternoon

the extraordinary mark of -71 degrees. Equeesik moved his igloo about

ten miles ahead this day, but the other two igloos were compelled to

wait for their hunters to come in. The day, notwithstanding the

intensity of the cold, was very pleasant. There was scarcely a breath

of wind, and our igloo door was open the entire day. In fact, it was a

far pleasanter day to be out of doors than with 50 degrees warmer and

the wind blowing. January proved a very stormy month; indeed, there

were but eleven days in which we could travel, and we only accomplished

ninety-one miles toward our destination during that time. One day, the

19th, we lay over to follow up some musk-ox tracks we had seen the day

previous. The weather was fine, notwithstanding a pretty strong wind

and a temperature of -65 degrees.

[Illustration: THE MARCH IN EXTREME COLD WEATHER.]

We followed the tracks about twenty-five miles, and only desisted when

we found that wolves were ahead of us and had already frightened the

game away. The country is filled with reindeer, and on every hill-side

their breath can be seen rising like clouds of steam. A herd that was

frightened by the dogs, which were following the musk-ox tracks,

scampered off in every direction, and it looked as if a lot of

locomotives had been let loose over the country, the smoke coming from

their lungs in great puffs as they ran, and streaming along behind

them. When the sledges are moving during a clear cold day, the position

of any one of them is known to the team, though they may be widely

separated. Sometimes, for the advantage of hunting to be obtained

thereby, our igloos have been separated by a day's march of about ten

miles, and at that distance the condensed breath of the dogs and people

could be distinctly seen and the position of the igloos located.

January proved the coldest month of our experience, with a mean

thermometer of -53.2 degrees, lowest -71 degrees, and the highest -23

degrees Fahrenheit. We experienced one storm of thirteen days' duration

during the latter part of January and early part of February, and found

but thirteen days during which we could travel in the latter month.

It was almost our daily experience now to lose one or more dogs. They

got plenty of reindeer meat, but it was usually fed frozen, and has but

little nourishment in it in that state for cold weather, when fat and

warming food is required. A seal-skinful of blubber each week would

have saved many of our dogs; but we had none to spare for them, as we

were reduced to the point when we had to save it exclusively for

lighting the igloos at night. We could not use it to warm our igloos or

to cook with. Our meat had to be eaten cold--that is, frozen so solid

that it had to be sawed, and then broken into convenient-sized lumps,

which when first put into the mouth were like stones--or cooked with

moss gathered from the hill-sides and the snow beaten off with a stick.

Meat will freeze in a temperature a little below the freezing-point,

but it is then in a very different condition from the freezing it gets

at from sixty to seventy degrees below zero. Then every piece of meat

you put in your mouth has first to be breathed upon to thaw the

surface, or it will stick to your tongue and sides of your mouth and

lips like frosty iron, and with the same disagreeable results. The

luxury of a cooked meal could only be indulged in on the days when we

were lying over in camp, as to gather the moss and cook the meal would

take from three to four hours.

The country began to swarm with wolves now, as well as with reindeer,

and we would meet them daily. Often they would come close to the

igloos, and one night Toolooah shot one of three that were eating the

meat he had thrown out for food for our dogs.

They killed and ate four of Equeesik's dogs, and attacked him when he

went out of the igloo to drive them off. He killed two of his

assailants with his rifle, and two others by the most infernal traps

ever devised. He set two keenly sharpened knife-blades in the ice and

covered them with blood, which the wolves licked, at the same time

slicing their tongues, the cold keeping them from feeling the wounds at

the time, and their own warm blood tempting them to continue until

their tongues were so scarified that death was inevitable. He also

prepared some pills by rolling up long strips of whalebone, bound with

sinew and hidden in meat, which freezing would hold together until it

had passed into the animal's intestines, when the meat having thawed,

and the sinew digested, the whalebone would open out and produce an

agonizing death. If anything were bad enough treatment for wolves,

these devices of Equeesik's might be so classed.

Toolooah was out hunting on the 23d of February, when a pack of about

twenty wolves attacked him. He jumped upon a big rock, which was soon

surrounded, and there he fought the savage beasts off with the butt of

his gun until he got a sure shot, when he killed one, and while the

others fought over and devoured the carcass, he made the best of the

opportunity to get back into camp. It was a most fortunate escape, as

he fully realized.

On the 25th we were detained in camp by a storm, which Toolooah took

advantage of for hunting. He saw a reindeer not far from camp, and was

soon astonished to see another Inuit following the same animal. The

stranger, when he saw Toolooah, ran back to his igloo; but Toolooah let

the reindeer go and followed the man, whom he found to be a Kinnepatoo

acquaintance named Tsedluk. From him he learned that Depot Island was

only two igloos, or three days off, with long marches and light

sledges. We moved up to Tsedluk's igloo the following day, and bought

some meat from him, as game was scarce beyond. Here we cached all our

heavy stuff, and with light sleds and forced marches reached Depot

Island on the 4th day of March, by way of Connery River, which we came

upon on the 2d. The mean temperature for the past month had been -44.8

degrees, and the coldest recorded -69 degrees Fahrenheit.

We found open water at the rapids where Connery River empties into its

estuary, and the ice four feet above water-line. It was with

considerable difficulty that a safe passage was found for the sledges,

but once on the salt-water ice we moved along rapidly. The prospect of

reaching home the next day was very exhilarating, and the dogs seemed

to catch the infection from their masters. The poor, jaded beasts

coiled their tails over their backs and ran along barking until we

halted for the night, within about twenty miles of our destination. We

still knew nothing concerning Hudson's Bay since we left a year before,

Tsedluk having seen no one since he came to the camp where we found

him. The great question with us was, "Were any ships in the bay?" If

there were, the prospect was that there would be some news from home

and letters from our friends. We hoped that there were ships, and

believed that they would be wintering at Depot Island, as it was the

unanimous opinion of the officers of the fleet at Marble Island the

previous year that Depot Island was a far preferable place to winter

at, on account of the difficulty of getting fresh meat for the crews at

the other harbor.

[Illustration: VIEW ON CONNERY RIVER.]

At any rate, we felt sure of finding our hard bread, pork, and

molasses, together with some other provisions that Captain Barry said

he could spare and leave with Armow, the native who had charge of our

stuff at Depot Island, and the prospect of again eating some civilized

food was most cheering. The natives exhibited an unwonted degree of

activity, and we got under way at seven o'clock the next morning,

moving off at the rate of three miles and a half an hour. We soon

arrived in sight of Depot Island, and looked anxiously for sledge

tracks, which we felt sure would be abundant here if the ships were

near by. We saw no tracks for so long a time that we soon began to

doubt that there were even any natives there.

About noon we were within four or five miles of the island, and saw

some natives on the ice in the dim distance. Then all was excitement in

our party, and it increased as the distance diminished. I never

expected to feel so agitated as I did when I found myself running and

shouting with the natives. Toolooah fired a signal-gun, then jumped on

the sled and waved a deer-skin, which had been agreed between him and

Armow as announcing our identity on our return.

At last the sleds drew near enough to recognize Armow, who was

hastening up to us ahead of the others. When they halted he grasped

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