CHAPTER VIIIARCTIC FESTIVITIES

Creeping Toward the Winter Solstice—Household Economy—The Holidays—Christmas Amusements—Christmas Dinner to the Natives—New-Year Festivities—Moonlight Snow-shoe Tramps—Reception in the South Parlor.

Wednesday, December 2. Thanksgiving has come and gone. We had a very pleasant time, and enjoyed our dinner as much as any one at home. The only difference between day and night at Redcliffe is that during the day in addition to the bracket-lamps we have a large Rochester lamp burning. The huskies, as we continue to call the natives, have named it the “mickaniny sukinuk” (baby sun). Matt lights it at 8A. M., and the officer on watch puts it out at 10P. M.Mr. Peary has made a rule that no member of the party, unless ill, shall occupy his bunk between the hours of 8A. M.and 7P. M.He has also changed from the four-hour watches to twelve-hour watches; thus one man has the night watch for a whole week, and during this time sleeps in the daytime, and one man has the day watch. At the end of a week these two men are relieved by two others. The boys think they like this arrangement very much better. The native whom Ikwa brought back with him from Keati is named Mahoatchia, and Ikwa says that he and the one-eyed bear-hunter, Mekhtoshay, of Netchiolumy, exchange wives with each other every year. It is interesting to note that these two men are the only ones in the tribe who indulge in this practice, yet the other men seem to think it all right; but the women are not at all satisfied with this social arrangement.

OUR FRIENDS ABOUT REDCLIFFE.

If some of our dear ones at home could look down upon us now they would be surprised to find how comfortable and contented we are. Everybody is busily engaged in getting the equipment and clothing ready for the long spring sledge journey over the inland ice. Mr. Peary gives me an idea of what kind of garments he wants, and I am making experimental outfits out of canton flannel, which, when satisfactory, will be used as patterns by which the skins will be cut, thus avoiding the chance of wasting any of the valuable furs. While I am at work on this, two native women, M’gipsu, wife of Annowkah, with her baby on her back, and Tookymingwah, the twelve-year-old girl, are both sitting tailor-fashion on the floor, chewing deerskins. The native method of treating the skins of all animals intended for clothing, is first to rid them of as much of the fat as can be got off by scraping with a knife; then they are stretched as tight as possible, and allowed to become perfectly dry. After this they are taken by the women and chewed and sucked all over in order to get as much of the grease out as possible; then they are again dried and scraped with a dull implement so as to break the fibers,making the skins pliable. Chewing the skins is very hard on the women, and all of it is done by them; they cannot chew more than two deerskins per day, and are obliged to rest their jaws every other day.

Kyo, Ikwa’s brother, and Annowkah come in occasionally and scrape some of the skins after they have been chewed. Kyo especially tries to make himself useful. He presents rather a comical appearance in his bearskin nanookies and blue guernsey given him by one of the boys. Every time he sees any shavings or other trash on the floor he seizes the broom, made by him out of the wings of eider-ducks, and sweeps it up. Mr. Peary and the boys are carpentering from morning till night, and every day we assure one another that we do not mind the Arctic night at all; but I don’t think that any of us will object to seeing the sun again.

Thursday, December 10. A whole week has passed since I wrote in my journal. We have had one or two very disagreeable days, the wind making it too unpleasant for my daily walk.

M’gipsu Sewing.

We have been busy working on the fur outfits. I have succeeded in getting satisfactory patterns for Mr. Peary; Mané and M’gipsu are sewing. The former is a poor sewer, but M’gipsu is very neat as well as rapid, and I have suggested to Mr. Peary that he offer her an inducement if she will stay and sew until all the garments are completed. She understands us and we understand her better than any of the other natives, including Ikwa and Mané, although they have been with us fully ten weeks longer. I hope it is not a case of new broom, and that she will wear well. The little girl Tookymingwah, whom we all call “Tooky,” is a neat little seamstress, but is not very rapid. A few days ago her mother, named Klayuh, but always called by us the “Widow,” arrived with her two younger daughters, the youngest about five years old. I asked her if she had only the three children, and she burst into tears and left the house without answering me. Turning to M’gipsu, I asked her what it meant, and she said it was “peuk nahmee” (not well) for me to ask Klayuh about other children. When I insisted upon knowing why, she took me aside and whispered that Klayuh had just killed her youngest child, about two years of age, by strangling it. She went on to explain that it was perfectly right for Klayuh to do this, as the father of the child hadbeen killed, and she could not support the children herself, and no man would take her as a wife so long as she had a child small enough to be carried in the hood. I asked her if this was always done, and she said: “Oh, yes, the women are compelled to do it.”

Mr. Peary has spoken to M’gipsu about staying at Redcliffe as seamstress, and she is delighted at the opportunity. When Ikwa heard of this arrangement he rushed in and wanted to know why he was “no good” for Peary, and why Mané could not do the sewing, and said that if Peary preferred Annowkah and M’gipsu he would pull down his igloo and take his family back to Keati. It was some little time before we could quiet him and make him understand that we needed more than one woman to sew all of the clothing.

The last three days have been particularly busy ones for me, as Matt has been sick in bed with something like the grippe, and I have had the cooking to do in addition to the sewing. The poor fellow has had an uncomfortable time, but the doctor says he will be all right in a day or two.

Our house looks like a huge snow-drift from a little distance, so completely is it covered with snow. The whole village presents the appearance of a series of snow-mounds of various sizes. We have five snow-igloos inhabited by the natives, besides a storehouse, an experimental snow-house, and some dog-houses, all built of blocks of snow. Just at present we are getting quite a little amusement out of two young nativesfrom Cape York, who express the same surprise at us and our mode of living as the country boy does the first time he comes to a city. They are dressed in new suits throughout,—kamiks, bearskin nanookies, foxskin kapetahs, and birdskin shirts,—and so the boys have nicknamed them the “Cape York dudes.” The younger one, Keshu, is a stepbrother of Klayuh, and he has brought her the sad tidings that their father is very sick and will probably never get well again. I should not be surprised if she would return to Cape York with them.

Monday, December 21. The dark night is just half over; to-day is the shortest day. So far the time has not seemed very long, but I am afraid before we have had many more dark days we shall all think it long enough. I have done nothing as yet toward celebrating Christmas, but I want to make some little thing for Mr. Peary. As far as the boys are concerned, I think an exceptionally good dinner will please them more than anything else I could give them. M’gipsu has made a pair of deerskin trousers for one of the boys, and has also completed a deerskin coat. She is now at work on a deerskin sleeping-bag, which is to be fastened about the neck of the occupant, over a fur hood with a shoulder cape, which I am endeavoring to fashion.

She is sitting on the floor in my room (an unusual honor), and her husband, Annowkah, comes in as often as he can find an excuse for doing so. He frequently rubs his face against hers, and they sniffle at each other; this takes the place of kissing. I should think they could smell each other withoutdoing this, but they are probably so accustomed to the (to me) terrible odor that they fail to notice it.

I dislike very much to have the natives in my room, on account of their dirty condition, and especially as they are alive with parasites, of which I am in deadly fear, much to the amusement of our party. But it is impossible for the women to sew in the other room, where the boys are at work on their sledges and ski, so I allow two at a time to come into my room, taking good care that they do not get near the bed. At the end of their day’s work, I take my little broom, which is an ordinary whisk lashed to a hoe-handle, and sweep the room carefully. The boys have made brooms out of the wings of ducks and gulls, which are very satisfactory, there being only the bare floor to sweep; but I have a carpet on my floor, and the feather brooms make no impression on it, so I am compelled to use my little whisk. It answers the purpose admirably, but it takes me twice as long as it would otherwise have done. After the room has been thoroughly swept, I sprinkle it with a solution of corrosive sublimate, given to me by the doctor, and in this way manage to keep entirely free from the pests. Both Mr. Peary and myself rub down with alcohol every night before retiring as a further protection against these horrible “koomakshuey,” and we are amply repaid for our trouble. Matt has entirely recovered from his sick spell, and has again taken charge of the cooking.

I was right in my surmise about the widow; she accompanied the “dudes” to Cape York, taking her three children withher. Kyo also left at the same time for his home at Omanooy. He says he will return in ten days with a load of deerskins which he has at his igloo. Mr. Peary loaned him two of his dogs, and has promised him ammunition in exchange for the deerskins. We are anxious to see what kind of a gun he has; he says he got it from an old man who had received it from a white man long ago.

We have had a great house-cleaning in honor of the approaching holidays. I have replaced the cretonne curtains at the bottom of my bed, wash-stand, bookcase, and trunk, with new ones, and have put fresh muslin curtains at my windows. The boys have cleaned the large room, taking all superfluous lumber and tools out, and have even scrubbed the floor. The natives think we are crazy to waste so much water. Poor things, they think water was made only for drinking purposes.

Saturday, December 26. Just after I made the last entry in my journal, one of the boys reported that the tide-gage wire was broken. Mr. Peary, Verhoeff, and Gibson went out to put it in commission. After about an hour Verhoeff rushed into the house calling, “Doctor, Doctor, come out to the tide-gage as quick as you can!” The doctor, whose turn it was to be night watchman, and who was therefore asleep at this hour, tumbled out of his bunk and into his clothes, and made a rush for the tide-gage. I was lying in my bed suffering from the effects of a sick-headache; but never having fully recovered from the shock caused by Mr. Peary’s accident in Melville Bay, and realizing that he was not yetquite sure of his injured limb, the thought flashed across my mind that something had happened to him. No sooner did this idea occur to me than it became a settled fact, and in less time than it takes to tell I had thrown on my wrapper and kamiks, caught up a steamer-rug to throw about me, and was on my way down to the tide-gage. As I ran down the beaten path, I could see the light of the little bull’s-eye lantern flashing to and fro in the distance. It was as dark as any starlight night at home, although it was early in the evening, and not any darker now than it had been at noon. I could hear the low buzz of conversation without being able to distinguish any voices, and the figures seemed all huddled together. My whole attention was absorbed by this little group, and I did not properly watch my path; consequently I stumbled, then slipped and lost my footing, falling astride a sharp ridge of ice on the ice-foot. For an instant I could not tell where I was hurt the most, and then I discovered that I could move neither limb, the muscles refusing to do my bidding. I next tried to call Mr. Peary, whose voice I could now distinctly hear, but I could utter no sound. Then I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the same spot in the same position. The little group, not more than sixty yards away, were laughing and talking; but I was unable to raise my voice above a hoarse whisper, and could in no way attract their attention, so interested were they in their work of raising the tide-gage anchor. I was clothed in such a way that lying out on the ice with the temperature eighteen degreesbelow zero was anything but comfortable. I found that by great exertion I could move myself, and by doing this a little at a time, I gradually got on my hands and knees and crawled back to the house. As the whole distance was up-hill and every movement painful, I was obliged to make frequent stops to rest. At last I reached my room and had just strength enough left to drag myself upon the bed. I noticed by the clock that I had been absent thirty-five minutes. On examination it was found that I was cut and bruised all over, but the doctor declared that I was not seriously hurt; but even now I have not entirely recovered from the effects of the fall.

The day before yesterday was spent in decorating the interior of our Arctic home for the Christmas and New-Year festivities. In the large room the ceiling was draped with red mosquito-netting furnished by Mr. Gibson. Dr. Cook and Astrup devised wire candelabra and wire candle-holders, which were placed in all the corners and along the walls. Two large silk United States flags were crossed at one end of the room, and a silk sledge-flag given to Mr. Peary by a friend in Washington was put up on the opposite wall. I gave the boys new cretonne for curtains for their bunks. In my room I replaced the portières, made of silk flags, with which the boys had decorated their room, by portières made of canopy lace, and decorated the photographs of our dear ones at home, which were grouped on the wall beside the bed, with red, white, and blue ribbons. This occupied us all the greater part of the day. About nine o’clock in the eveningMr. Peary made a goodly supply of milk-punch, which was placed upon the table, together with cakes, cookies, candies, nuts, and raisins. He gave each of the boys a book as a Christmas gift. We spent the evening in playing games and chatting, and at midnight Mr. Peary and I retired to our room to open some letters, boxes, and parcels given to us by kind friends, and marked, “To be opened Christmas eve at midnight.” I think our feeling of pleasure at the many and thoughtful remembrances was clouded by the feeling of intense homesickness which involuntarily came with it. It was the first Christmas in my life spent away from home, and for the first time since the little “Kite” steamed out of Brooklyn I felt how very far away we are from those we love and who love us. I shall never forget the thoughtful kindness of Mrs. Beyer, wife of the governor of Upernavik, to a perfect stranger. Although she is obliged to get all her supplies from Denmark, and then order them a year in advance, out of her slender stock she had filled a large box with conserves, preserves, bonbons, spice-cakes, tissue-paper knickknacks for decorating the table, and very pretty cards wishing us a merry Christmas. Mr. Peary had carved for me two beautiful hairpins, and I made a guidon out of a silk handkerchief and a piece of one of my dresses, to be carried by him on his long journey over the ice-cap to the northern terminus of Greenland.

Yesterday—Christmas morning—we had a late breakfast, and it was very near noon before all the inmates of Redcliffe were astir. I had decided to have an early dinner, and then toinvite all our faithful natives to a dinner cooked by us and served at our table with our dishes. I thought it would be as much fun for us to see them eat with knife, fork, and spoon as it would be for them to do it.

While I was preparing the dinner, most of the boys went out for a walk, “to get a good appetite,” they said. After the table was set, Astrup placed a very pretty and cleverly designed menu-card at each plate. Each card was especially appropriate to the one for whom it was intended.

At 4.30P. M.we all sat down to our “Merry Christmas.” The dinner consisted of

Salmonà lacan.Rabbit-pie with green peas.Venison with cranberry sauce.Corn and tomatoes.Plum-pudding with brandy sauce.Apricot pie.Pears.Candy, nuts, raisins.Coffee.

Salmonà lacan.

Rabbit-pie with green peas.

Venison with cranberry sauce.

Corn and tomatoes.

Plum-pudding with brandy sauce.

Apricot pie.

Pears.

Candy, nuts, raisins.

Coffee.

Christmas Dinner to the Natives.

We arose from the table at half-past seven, all voting this to have been the jolliest Christmas dinner ever eaten in the Arctic regions. After Matt had cleared everything away, the table was set again, and the Eskimos were called in. Ikwa and his family sent regrets, as they had just returned from a visit to Keati, and were too tired to put on “full dress” for a dinner-party. We therefore had only two of our seamstresses, M’gipsu and Inaloo, with us; in place of Ikwa and his wife we invited two visitors, Kudlah and Myah. We had nicknames for all the natives. Ahngodegipsah we called the “Villain” on account of the similarity of his expression, when he laughed, to that of the villain on the stage. His wife, Inaloo, talked so incessantly that she at once received from the boys the nickname of the “Tiresome.” M’gipsu was called the “Daisy” because she could do anything she was asked to do. Her husband, Annowkah, we knew as the “Young Husband”; Kudlah was called “Misfortune”; and Myah was known as the “White Man.” The “Villain” was put at the head of the tableand told that he must serve the company just as he had seen Mr. Peary serve us. The “Daisy” took my place at the foot of the table, her duty being to pour the tea. The “Young Husband” and “Misfortune” sat on one side, while “Tiresome” and the “White Man” sat opposite. Their bill of fare was as follows:

Milk-punch.Venison-stew, corn-bread.Biscuit, coffee.Candy, raisins.

Milk-punch.

Venison-stew, corn-bread.

Biscuit, coffee.

Candy, raisins.

It was amusing to see the queer-looking creatures, dressed entirely in the skins of animals, seated at the table and trying to act like civilized people. Both the “Villain” and the “Daisy” did their parts well. One incident was especially funny. Myah, seeing a nice-looking piece of meat in the stew, reached across the table, and with his fork endeavored to pick it out of the dish. He was immediately reproved by the “Villain,” who made him pass his mess-pan to him and then helped him to what he thought he ought to have, reserving, however, the choice piece for himself. They chattered and laughed, and seemed to enjoy themselves very much. Both women had their babies in their hoods on their backs, but this did not hinder them in the least. Although at times the noise was great, the little ones slept through it all.

M’gipsu watched the cups of the others, and as soon as she spied an empty one she would say: “Etudoo cafee? Nahme? Cafee peeuk.” (More coffee? No? The coffee is good.) Finallyat ten o’clock the big lamp was put out, and we told them it was time to go to sleep, and that they must go home, which they reluctantly did.

To-day has been a rather lazy day for us all, and now at 11P. M.Mr. Peary, Dr. Cook, and Matt have just come in from a visit to the fox-traps about two miles distant. On the return they indulged in a foot-race, and when they came in they looked as if they had been dipped in water. The perspiration ran in streamlets down their faces. This trip has encouraged Mr. Peary very much in the belief that by next spring his leg will be just as good as it ever was.

Saturday, January 2, 1892. I have been lazy about writing up my notes lately, but now I shall turn over a new leaf. 1891 has gone; what will 1892 bring? I don’t think I want to know. Better take it as it comes, and hope for the best. The “Villain” and his wife have gone to their home in Netchiolumy, Myah and Kudlah also have left us, and, with the exception of Keshu (alias the “Smiler”) and his wife, all of our Eskimo visitors have departed; Ikwa and family and Annowkah and family remain, but they are not considered company at Redcliffe.

The sun is surely coming back to us, for at noon now we have a perceptible twilight, and the cliffs opposite Redcliffe can be plainly seen. Since December 29 the weather has been very disagreeable, and we have considerable new snow. The whole week has been a semi-holiday. Almost every day I have been out for a snow-shoe tramp, and I have rather enjoyedit in spite of the wind, which is just high enough to be disagreeable.

On the 30th I issued cards of invitation for an “At home in the south parlor of Redcliffe, December 31, from 10P. M.1891 to 1892.” The day was a thoroughly Arctic one, and I was glad that my guests would not have far to come. All day I was busy preparing for company. I had to manufacture my own ice-cream without a freezer, bake my own cake and crullers, and set everything out on an improvised sideboard. At 9P. M.I dressed myself in a black silk tea-gown with canary silk front, covered and trimmed with black lace, cut square in the neck and filled in with lace, and having lace sleeves. At ten my guests began to arrive. The invitations were limited to the members of the North Greenland Expedition of ’91 and ’92, and they all looked especially nice and very much civilized, most of them actually sending in their cards. They were all dressed in “store clothes,” although one or two clung to their kamiks. I had no chairs, so each guest was requested to bring his own. Mr. Peary sat on the bed, while I occupied the trunk. I spent a very delightful evening, and I think the boys enjoyed the chocolate ice-cream and cake. At midnight we all drank “A Happy New Year” in our Redcliffe cocktail, and then my guests departed. All this time the wind was howling and moaning, and the snow was flying, while the night was black as ink, not a star being visible. More than once during the evening, when a particularly heavy gust swept down from thecliffs and fell against our little house with a shriek, the contrast between inside and outside was forced upon us.

The next day we had a late breakfast, and then two of the boys went out to lay off a course for the athletic games which they had been discussing for some time. The weather was so bad that I did not go out to witness them, but let Matt go, and prepared our New-Year’s dinner alone. This time Mr. Peary decided that he would give the natives the materials for their own New-Year’s dinner and let them prepare it themselves. They were given eider-ducks, reindeer legs, coffee, and biscuit. We have quite a batch of new Eskimos, among them two men from Cape York, who are almost as tall as Mr. Peary, and whom we call the “giants.” They have quite a number of narwhal tusks to trade, and are determined to have a rifle for them, but I hardly think they will get it.

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