CHAPTER XSUNSHINE AND STORM

Return of the Sun—Furious Storm and Inundation at Redcliffe—Repairing the Damage—Verhoeff’s Birthday—Fears for Dr. Cook and Astrup—Rescue of Jack—Battling with an Arctic Hurricane—Down with the Grippe—Dazzling March Scenery—The Commander has the Grippe—Astrup and Gibson reconnoiter after Dogs—The Widow returns a Bride—The Snow begins to Melt—Sunning Babies on the Roof.

Sunday, February 14. At home this is St. Valentine’s day. Here it is simply Sunday, and for me a lonely one. This morning Mr. Peary, Astrup, and Dr. Cook started for the mountain-top with their sleeping gear and provisions for two days. The day has been misty, cloudy, and rough. At sixA. M.the temperature was 11½°, and at eight it was 33°, with the wind blowing a gale that shook the doors and windows of our little home for the first time since it was really finished. At eight in the evening the mercury had fallen one degree, and the wind was blowing in gusts, but with greater force than before. I am worried about our travelers. Gibson just brought in a piece of ice perfectly wet and covered with wet snow, which shows the effect of the high temperature. He says he can hardly stand up against the wind, but that it is warm, almost balmy. Jack came to the door and whinedpiteously to be let in, something I have never known him to do before. Now at 10.45 it is raining hard.

Monday, February 15. What a wretched twenty-four hours the past have been! All night the wind blew in violent gusts, sometimes accompanied by wet snow and sometimes by rain. This morning the whole place appears in a dilapidated condition. A thaw has set in, and the water is running in every direction. The inmates of the snow-igloo were forced to leave it, and to-night one could read through its walls, the action of the wind, water, and temperature has worn them so thin. Part of our snow-wall has fallen, or rather melted down, and the water is pouring down the sides of the house into the canvas-covered passages, soaking everything. The thermometer reads 38°, and the wind still blows, while it continues to rain and snow. With Matt’s assistance I have moved everything out of the lean-to back of the house, and have had all the cutlery brought in, some of which was already covered with rust. At two o’clock the water began to come in under my back door, and then Gibson, who has the night watch, and therefore the right to sleep during the day, got up, and with Matt went on the roof and shoveled the snow off to prevent the water from leaking into the house. It was all they could do to keep from being blown down, and in ten minutes both were drenched to the skin. If our little party on the ice have this wind and rain, I do not see what they can do. Their snow-hut will melt over them, and they will be wet and cold, while in such a wind it will be impossible to venture down the cliffs. To-nightthe temperature has fallen to 33°, but otherwise things are unchanged. At twoP. M.the maximum thermometer registered 41½°. This temperature will hardly be equaled at this time in New England.

An Arctic Tot.

Tuesday, February 16. A glorious day follows thirty-six hours of violent storm. The sun shines on Cape Robertson and on the snow-covered cliffs east of Redcliffe House. I walked down to Cape Cleveland with Jack, my faithful attendant. The sun had just gone behind the black cliffs of Herbert Island, and the glare was still so bright that it hurt my eyes to look at it. I never appreciated the sunlight so much before; involuntarily it made me feel nearer home. The sky was beautifully tinted—pink and blue in the east, light orange in the south, a deep yellow and crimson in the northwest. Fleecy clouds tinged with rose floated overhead, while the air was calm and balmy. How thoroughly I should have enjoyed my walk amid the exquisitely colored surroundings had I known how it fared with my husband on the ice above! Reaching the house at 1.45, I found no tidings of the party, and so watched and waited, until at last a lone figure rounded the mile point. Although I could not see anything beyond a dark spot on the ice moving toward the house, I knew it must be Mr. Peary, for, in spite of his long-forced inactivity and his broken leg, he still outwalks the boys. I started out with Jack, and we soon met. The party were all right, but had had a pretty hard time of it.

MY FAITHFUL COMPANIONS, “JACK” AND “FRANK.”

Thursday, February 18. A bright, sunny day. We have been busy rebuilding the snow entrance which was washed away by the recent thaw and rain. This completed, Mr. Peary got out his “ski” and began coasting down the hill back of the house. Astrup and the doctor joined in the sport, and even the huskies got their sleds and coasted on them. I spent the time in taking photographs of the boys, especially in their grotesque tumbles.

Friday, February 19. Another cloudy day; it seems as if the sun had not yet become accustomed to his new route and forgets us every other day. The old couple started for Netchiolumy this morning, and Ikwa went off with his sledge and our mikkies to bait fox-traps. After lunch Astrup and the doctor went on the cliffs to build three cairns from Cape Cleveland to Three-Mile Valley, expecting to get back by supper-time. At six o’clock they had not returned, but we were not alarmed, and put their supper away for them. About seven Ikwa came in, and reported that while passing Cape Cleveland he had heard the rumbling of a snow-slide down the steep sides of the cliffs, but it was too dark for him to see anything. At 9.15 the old couple returned, saying the snow was too deep for them to travel, and they are therefore going to stay here for a while. The truth is, they like it here, and think they had better let well enough alone. They said thatin passing Cape Cleveland they heard Jack bark and Dr. Cook halloo to them. This, together with Ikwa’s story of the snow-slide and the non-appearance of the boys, made us think that something might have happened to them, so Mr. Peary and Gibson started for the Cape at once (about tenP. M.). When they reached it they heard Jack whining, crying, and barking by turns, and on going around the Cape they found quantities of loose snow evidently lately brought down from the cliffs, and in the middle of this heap a snow-shoe! Mr. Peary called and called, but the only answer received was Jack’s cry, nor would the animal come down. Mr. Peary at once started back to Redcliffe on almost a run—Gibson had all he could do to keep up with him—intending to procure ropes, sledges, sleeping-bags, alpenstocks, lanterns, etc., and to call out all the men in the settlement in order to begin at once a close search of the almost vertical cliffs, covered with ice and snow, where Jack was, and where he supposed the boys might also be, perhaps badly bruised and mangled, or overcome by the cold. In the meantime, to our great relief, both boys appeared at Redcliffe, exhausted and hungry. They said they had reached Cape Cleveland about 1.30P. M.and started up the cliff; it was very steep and seemed unsafe for about one third of the way, but after that it appeared to be easy climbing. When, however, they had ascended three hundred feet, progress became increasingly difficult, the course being over round stones covered with ice, where it was impossible to cut steps. On looking down they found, to their horror, that it would beimpossible to return, the cliff being too steep and slippery. Here Astrup dropped a snow-shoe—Ikwa’s snow-slide—which he had been using to punch steps in the snow and to scrape places among the icy stones for a foothold. This left them only the one which the doctor was using. Further progress was very slow; they knew that their steps had to be firm, for one misstep would send them to their doom. To add to their difficulty it began to grow dark, about fourP. M., when they were not more than half-way up; poor Jack was unable to follow them any longer up the steep, icy wall, and, likewise unable to go down, he began to howl and cry piteously at being left. The howl of a dog under the most favorable circumstances is horrible. To the boys it sounded like their death-knell. They heard the old people pass along the bay, and called to them. Finally they reached the top, and then ran along to Mile Valley above the house and came down it to the bay, in this way missing Mr. Peary.

Sunday, February 21. Yesterday we made an unsuccessful effort to rescue Jack, and this morning the attempt was resumed by Mr. Peary and Dr. Cook. I was to meet them at noon with lunch. About ten o’clock the boys reported a wind-storm down at Cape Cleveland; the snow was driving off the cliffs in thick clouds, and the whole sky became black. The storm, however, did not strike Redcliffe, but passed to the east, and we could see it at work at the head of the bay. Believing it to be over at the Cape, I started on snow-shoes, with shot-gun on my shoulder, and with a gripsack containing tea, boiler,cups, spoons, alcohol-stove and alcohol, potted turkey and biscuits, and sugar and milk. On turning the first point the wind struck me, but, thinking it was only a squall left by the recent storm, I hastened on as best I could. Finally I left the path and went inshore, but could not see where I stepped, and was blown down several times. I relieved myself of the snow-shoes and gun, but was again knocked about by the wind, and had my breath completely taken away by the snow driving in my face. I finally met Mr. Peary with our good dog Jack, and we reached home late in the afternoon, tired and sore.

Monday, February 22. Washington’s birthday; grandmother’s birthday. Our dinner consisted of venison pie with corn, broiled guillemot breasts and green peas, chocolate, and apple pandowdy. The day has been cloudy and misty.

Sunday, March 6. I am recovering from an attack of the grippe. Tuesday, February 23, after going to bed I had a chill, and all night my back and every bone in my body ached. In the morning my aches increased and I was in a fever. Of course Mr. Peary called in the doctor, and between them they have brought me round. I went out for the first time yesterday, Mr. Peary pushing me on the sledge to the tide-gage, where the sun was shining beautifully.

Tuesday, March 8. Yesterday was a bright, cold day. Matt returned from a four days’ deer hunt at the head of the bay, during which he experienced a temperature of from –40° to –50°. Gibson has had everything he possesses put in orderfor a hunt with Annowkah, in Five-Glacier Valley. He took two reindeer sleeping-bags, his full deerskin suit, a sealskin suit, heavy woolen shirts, stockingsad libitum, a heavy pair of blankets, a tarpaulin, and sundry small articles, besides an Eskimo lamp and blubber, which he proposes to keep burning in the igloo all the time.

Tuesday, March 22. The last two weeks have been entirely uneventful, our time having been largely occupied in preparations for various hunting-trips and the great inland journey—the fashioning of experimental clothing, making of sledges, etc. The temperature has been steadily rising, but we have had some sharp reminders of an Arctic winter’s force; on the 14th, when the sun shone for the first time on the window of our room, the mercury was still –35°. The landscape is now resplendent in its glory, but the beauties of the snow-plain are here wasted on the desert air. Day before yesterday Mr. Peary made a reconnoissance of the ice-cap, traveling about twenty-two miles, and reaching an elevation of 3800 feet; his minimum temperature was –32° as against –25° at Redcliffe. To-morrow he intends to start for Netchiolumy.

Sunday, April 3. The past week has been a long and anxious one for me. Mr. Peary’s indisposition last Sunday turned out to be an attack of the grippe, and for two days he was very sick, his fever running up to 103.8. It was accompanied with vomiting, coughing, and violent headache. Tuesday night his temperature went down to normal, and he felt better but weak, and this weakness he fought against with the unreasonablenessof a child. Wednesday he said he would start for Netchiolumy, in spite of my protestations, telling me I was childish to suppose he did not know what was best for him; and not until the doctor told him that there was danger of pneumonia, and that he must take the responsibility if he persisted in going, did he reluctantly yield. Thursday night his temperature began to rise again in consequence of over-exertion. Friday he still fought against lying down and keeping quiet, and Saturday and Sunday he had a relapse, his fever reaching 102.2, and leaving him weaker than before. I have done nothing but watch over him, and it has kept me busy day and night.

One of our Visitors.

The weather during the week has been beautiful, and the sunshine is appreciated by us more and more every day.

Yesterday, late in the evening, two men were seen coming toward the house from the direction of Cape Cleveland. They proved to be Kyo and Keshu, the Cape York dudes. They said quite a number of people were in a deserted igloo on Herbert Island and would be along by and by. It seems our former visitor, the widow Klayuh, whose husband was drowned while harpooning an oogzook seal last fall, and who stopped here with her three children on her way to Cape York to see her dyingfather, has consoled herself by becoming Kyo’s wife, and she is among those who are to come. This morning both Eskimos started off to bring their friends, together with their sledges and dogs, over to Redcliffe. As Mr. Peary is anxious to get some dogs, he sent Gibson and Astrup to follow them and see that they brought all the animals with them.

Monday, April 4. About two o’clock this morning our expected visitors arrived, and reported that they had seen nothing of Gibson and Astrup, nor of Kyo and Keshu. The arrivals are Klayuh and her two children—the elder, Tooky, apparently a young lady (as she has her beau in tow), although they give her age as only twelve suns; and the younger, a girl of five or six suns—Tooky’s admirer, Kookoo, Klayuh’s stepmother, a widow of three months, with her small child on her back, and her beau Ahko. Not knowing that her husband was dead, and in order to say something to her when she came in my room, I asked her if the man accompanying her was her husband, when, to my surprise, she burst into tears and sobbed out that her husband was dead. I began to talk in a sympathetic manner, when she suddenly dried her eyes and interrupted me with, “Utchow, utchow, mikky sungwa Ahko wenia awanga” (wait, wait a little while, and Ahko will be my husband). This forenoon another couple arrived, both rather youthful in appearance, and the woman quite small; they too had seen nothing of the boys. Just as we were through with dinner Astrup came in and said Gibson was coming with Kyo and Keshu and eight dogs; in aboutan hour and a half they arrived. After dinner I helped Mr. Peary reload one of his cameras, and in this operation I could see how nervous he still is. For the first time since I have known him he has the blues, and pretty badly at that. He has lost confidence in himself, and is harder to nurse than after his accident on board of the “Kite.” However, he insisted on photographing and measuring all the new-comers, and this kept us up until nearly two o’clock—Mr. Peary photographing, the doctor measuring, and I recording. I saw that he was very much exhausted, and I gave him his salt-water sponge-bath under the blankets, after which he slept well, something he has not done of late.

Wednesday, April 6. Yesterday the sun was warm enough to melt the snow on top of the house, and I put my eider-down pillows out for an airing. To-day has been so lovely that the women took their sewing on top of the house, where they also took their babies, stripped them, and placed them on a deerskin, allowing the sun to beat upon them. The little ones crowed and seemed to enjoy it hugely. In company with Astrup and Annowkah Mr. Peary sledged across to Herbert Island to get some blubber for Annowkah’s family that had been cached there last summer. He got back at midnight and looked very tired, having walked at least twenty-five miles, but he is in better spirits, and I hope the trip will benefit him in spite of his fatigue. During his absence I thawed, scrubbed, cut up, and tried out twenty-five pounds of bacon, getting twelve pounds of clear fat; I also cut up and tried out four pounds of toodnoo (venison tallow), which gave metwo and a half pounds of grease. This is to be utilized in the lunches for the advance party. It took me about eight hours to do all this.

Saturday, April 9. This morning we found the doctor down with the grippe. Poor fellow, I am afraid he will have a hard time of it. The boys have no consideration for the sick, and he is right out in the noise and turmoil all the time. At elevenA. M.Mr. Peary started with his six best dogs and Keshu for Herbert Island to bring back some seals cached there for dog-food. He rode the whole distance over, which, measured by the odometer, was 14.06 miles. During his absence I worked on canvas-bags for various instruments and on cording the sails intended for our sledges. At 11.30P. M., it being daylight throughout the twenty-four hours, I started to meet Mr. Peary, but had only walked half a mile when I saw him coming. The day has been, as usual, fine; temperature ranging from –9° to –22°. We have now a team of ten good dogs, a very cheering sight for us. Mr. Peary feels confident that he will get more, and this means assured success on the inland ice.

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