SOMETHING NEW.
WHILE the civilized world were awaiting with deep interest the results of the search for Sir John Franklin, and while learned geographers and practical navigators to the regions of cold were devising new methods of search for him, a young engraver was working out a problem in reference to this great enterprise peculiarly his own. Without special educational advantages, without the resources of wealth or influential friends, but with the inspiration of one feeling, "a divine call" to the undertaking, he matured his plans and began to publish them abroad. He seems to have at once imparted his own enthusiasm to others. The mayor of his own city, Cincinnati, the governor and senator of his own State, Ohio, the latter the eminent Salmon P. Chase, late Chief-Justice of the United States, became his patrons. Coming east, many of the great and wise men of our large cities gave him an attentive hearing, and not a few encouraged his project. The princely merchant, Henry Grinnell, who had already done so much in the Franklin search, took him at once into kindly sympathy.
From New York he went to New London. From the old whalemen, at least from individuals ofthem of marked character and large experience in Arctic navigation, he obtained encouraging words.
His plan of search which thus so readily commended itself was this: He would go into the region where it was now known that Franklin and some of his men had died; he would live with the Esquimo, learn their language, adopt their habits of life, and thus learn all that they knew of the history of the ill-fated expedition. He assumed that many of its men might yet be alive, and if they were, the natives would know it, know where they were, and could guide him to them.
To prepare himself for this work he became conversant with Arctic literature, learning all that the books on the subject taught; he applied himself closely to the study of the practical science bearing on his enterprise, learning the use of its instruments. He sought interviews and correspondence with returned explorers and whalemen. In fact, his heart was in the work with a downright enthusiasm.
The marked features of his plan seemed to be two—it was inexpensive and new. As to the manning of his expedition, he proposed to go alone; as to vessels, he asked none. He only asked to be conveyed to the proposed Esquimo country, and to be left with its natives. We might name a third attractive feature of this plan, one which always inspires interest—it was bold, bordering on the audacious!
We need hardly say to our readers that thename of this new candidate for Arctic perils and honors was Charles Francis Hall—a name now greatly honored and lamented.[A]
Mr. Hall was born in Rochester, New Hampshire, in 1821, where he worked a while at the blacksmith's trade, but left both the trade and his native place in early life for the Queen City of the West. The result of Mr. Hall's enthusiastic appeals was an offer by the firm of Williams & Haven, whale-ship owners of New London, to convey him and his outfit in their bark "George Henry" to his point of operations, and if ever desired, to give him the same free passage home in any of their ships. The "George Henry" was going, of course, after whales, and proposed thus to convey him as an obliging incident of the trip.
This proposal was made in the early spring of 1860. On the twenty-ninth of May he sailed. His outfit was simple, and had the appearance of a private, romantic excursion. It consisted of a good sized, staunch whale-boat built for his special use, a sledge, a few scientific instruments, a rifle, six double-barreled shot-guns, a Colt's revolver, and the ammunition supposed to be necessary for a long separation from the source of supply. A start was given him in a small store of provisions; beyond that he was to supply himself. A tolerable supply of trinkets were added as a basis of trade with the natives. What funds this miniature exploring expedition required was given largely by Mr. Grinnell.
The "George Henry" was accompanied bya tender, a small schooner named the "Rescue," having already an Arctic fame. The officers and crew of both vessels numbered twenty-nine, under command of Captain S. O. Buddington.
We have spoken of Mr. Hall as the only man of his exhibition; he had after all one companion. The previous year Captain Buddington had brought home an Esquimo by the name of Kudlago, who was now returning to his fatherland and to his wife and children. Upon him Mr. Hall largely depended as an interpreter, a friend, and guide, in his work.
The run of the "George Henry" to the Greenland coast was made with but one marked incident. That was to Mr. Hall a very sad one, giving him the first emphatic lesson in the uncertainty of his most carefully devised schemes. It was the death and burial at sea of Kudlago. He had left New London in good health, taken cold in the fogs of Newfoundland, and declined rapidly. He prayed fervently to be permitted to see his wife and children—only that, and he would die content. He inquired daily while confined to his berth if any ice was in sight. His last words were, "Teiko seko? teiko seko?"—Do you see ice? do you see ice? The Greenland shore was just in sight when he departed, and his home and family were three hundred miles away.
The "George Henry" and her tender, the "Rescue," sailed north, along the Greenland coast, as far as Holsteinberg, where Mr. Hall purchased sixEsquimo dogs. The vessel then stood southwest across Davis Strait and made, August eighth, a snug harbor, which Mr. Hall called Grinnell Bay, a little north of what is known as Frobisher Strait. Here Mr. Hall was to land and commence his Esquimo life, alone and far away from a Christian home, while the vessel went about its business capturing whales. His feelings on the voyage are indicated by the following extract from his diary:
"A good run with a fair breeze yesterday. Approaching the north axis of the earth! Aye, nearing the goal of my fondest wishes. Every thing relating to the arctic zone is deeply interesting to me. I love the snows, the ices, the icebergs, the fauna and the flora of the North. I love the circling sun, the long day,the arctic night, when the soul can commune with God in silent and reverential awe! I am on a mission of love. I feel to be in the performance of a duty I owe to mankind, myself, and God! Thus feeling I am strong at heart, full of faith, ready to do or die in the cause I have espoused." How he felt when actually engaged in his "mission of love," we shall see.
We must not, however, think of Mr. Hall in a region comparable to that which included the winter-quarters of Kane and Hayes in the expeditions we have just described. They were at least twelve degrees farther north, Mr. Hall being south of the arctic circle, so that his winter nights were shorter and milder. His present field of operation was on a coast visited by the whale-ships, and where they at times wintered. Besides, natives had been formany years in contact with white men, and were insomerespect more agreeable companions. He will therefore, as we follow him, lead us into new scenes of peculiar interest, and show us novel features in the character of the Esquimo.
The whale-ship "Black Eagle," Captain Allen, lay in Grinnell Bay on the arrival of our voyagers, and the captain soon appeared on the deck of the "George Henry," with several Esquimo. One of these natives, named Ugarng, especially attracted Mr. Hall's attention. He was intelligent, possessing strong lines of character, and a marked physical development. He had spent a year on a visit to the United States. Speaking of New York, he said with a sailor's emphasis: "No good! too much horse! too much house! too much white people! Women? Ah! women great many—good!" Ugarng will become a familiar acquaintance.
Mr. Hall hadbeengiving special attention on the voyage across Davis Strait to his dogs, and they were now to become a chief dependence. He fed them oncapelin, or dried fish. One day he called them all around him, each in his assigned place, to receive in turn his fish. Now there was one young, shrewd dog, Barbekark, who had not heard, or had never cared to heed the proverb that "honesty is the best policy." He said to himself, "If I can gettwoof the fish while the other dogs get but one, it will be a nice thing to do;" so, taking his place near the head of the row, he was served with his capelin. Then, slipping out, he crowded between the dogs farther down, and witha very innocent look awaited his turn. His master thought this so sharp in young Barbekark that he pretended not to see the trick, and dealed him a fish as if he had received none. On going the round again his master found him near the head of the row and then at the foot, so the rogue obtained Benjamin's portion. Seeing his success, he winked his knowing eye as much as to say, "Ain't I the smartest dog in the pack!" But Barbekark had entered on a rough road with many turns, as all rogues do. After going round several times, during which the trick was a success, Mr. Hallskippedthe trickster altogether. It mattered not what place he crowded into, there was no more fish for him. The upshot was that he received many less than did his companions. Never did a dog look more ashamed. From that time he kept his place when fish were distributed.
Mr. Hall, making the vessel his home, made frequent visits ashore, and received many Esquimo visitors on board, and was thus becoming acquainted with the people. An early visitor was Kokerjabin, wife of Kudlago, accompanied by her son. She had learned in her tent that her anxiously awaited husband had been left in the deep sea. She entered the cabin and looked at her husband's white friends, and at the chest which contained his personal goods, with deep emotion; but when Captain Buddington opened the chest, the tears flowed freely; and when she, in taking out things, came to those Kudlago had obtained in the States for herself and her little girl, she sat down, buriedher face in her hands, and wept with deep grief. She soon after went ashore with her son to weep alone.
Another very marked character was Paulooyer, or, as the white men called him, Blind George. He was now about forty years of age and had been blind nearly ten years, from the effects of a severe sickness. To this blindness was added domestic sorrow. His wife Nikujar was very kind to him for five years after his loss of sight, sharing their consequent poverty. But Ugarng, who had already several wives, offered her a place in his tent as his "household wife"—the place of honor in Esquimo esteem. The offer was tempting, for Ugarng was "a mighty hunter," and rich at all times in blubber, in furs and skin tents and snow huts. So she left poor George, taking with her their little daughter, called Kookooyer. This child became a pet with Ugarng, as she was with her blind father.
FOOTNOTE:[A]SeeFrontispiece.
[A]SeeFrontispiece.
[A]SeeFrontispiece.
A FEARFUL STORM.
WHILE the "George Henry" lay at Grinnell Bay, Mr. Hall talked much with the masters of the whale-ships and with the most intelligent of the natives concerning his proposed journey to King William's Land. This was a far-away region, where the remains of the Franklin expedition had been found. He proposed to secure the company of one or more Esquimo and make an attempt to reach it with a dog-sledge, and to take up his abode with its natives in search of information of the lost ones. But both his white and Esquimo advisers agreed that it was too late in the season to begin such a journey. Mr. Hall would then take the whale-boat built for him, man it with natives, and make the attempt by water. But this was deemed impracticable until spring. So he decided to make his home on board the vessel so long as she remained on the coast, and pursue his study of the Esquimo language and his survey of the region of country, with this home as a base of operations.
On his return from one of his inland excursions with Kudlago's son, whom the whites calledcaptain, he saw his widow, apart from all the people, weeping for her great bereavement. Her son ranto her and tried to comfort her, but she would not be comforted. When Mr. Hall approached she pointed to the spot where their tent was pitched when Kudlago left for the United States. She also showed him the bones of a whale which he had assisted in capturing.
Soon after this the widow visited the vessel with her daughter, Kimmiloo, who had been the idol of her father. She looked sad on the mention of her father's name, but, child-like, her eyes gleamed with joy on seeing the fine things his chest contained for her. Captain B.'s wife had sent her a pretty red dress, necktie, mittens, belt, and other like valuables of little white girls. But Mr. Hall suggested that Kimmiloo's introduction to the dress of civilization should be preceded by soap and water. The process of arriving at the little girl through layers of dirt was very slow. When this was done, her kind friend Hall took avery coarsecomb, and commenced combing her hair. This had never been done before, and of course the comb "pulled" in spite of the care of the operator, but Kimmiloo bore it bravely. Her locks were filled with moss, greasy bits of seal, and disgusting reindeer hairs, besides other things bothactiveand numerous. A full hour was spent on the hair, but when the comb went through it easily, then the little girl run her fingers into it and braided quickly a tag on each side of her head; she then drew these through brass rings which Mr. Hall had given her. Her Esquimo fur trowsers and coat were thrown off, and the nowclean and really beautiful girl put on the red dress. Her happiness would have been complete had her father been there to share her joy.
Mr. Hall's kindly nature led him to study the natives in these incidents, and to record them in his journals. Ugarng was one time in the cabin when Mr. Hall had put a few small balls of mercury on a sheet of white paper. It was a new article to the Esquimo, and he tried to pick it up with his thumb and finger, but it escaped his grasp. His efforts would scatter it over the sheet in small globules, and then as he lifted the corners of the paper it would run together, and Ugarng would commence catching it with new vigor. He continued his efforts for a full half hour. Amused at first, but finally losing his temper, he gave it up, exclaiming petulantly that there was an evil spirit in it.
Blind George became a constant visitor. At one time Mr. Hall gave him a much worn coat, showing one of the several holes in it. George immediately took a needle, and, bringing his tongue to the aid of his hands, threaded it, and mendedallof the rents very neatly. At another time Mr. Hall put into George's hand a piece of steel with a magnet attached. The way the steel flew from his hand to the magnet amazed him. At first he seemed to think it was not really so; but when he clearly felt the steel leap from his fingers, he threw both steel and magnet violently upon the floor. But feeling he was not hurt, and that some little girls laughed at him, he tried itagain more deliberately, and was better satisfied. Mr. Hall next gave him a paper of needles, desiring him to bring the magnet near them. He did so, and when the needles flew from his hand by the attraction he sprung to his feet as if an electric current had touched him, and the needles were scattered in every direction over the floor. He declared that Mr. Hall was an "Angekok."
On the fourteenth of August another whaling vessel belonging to the owners of the "George Henry" arrived at Grinnell Bay. Her name was the "Georgiana," Captain Tyson; so there were now four vessels near each other—the "Rescue" and "Black Eagle," besides those just named. There were social, merry times. But Captain Buddington, having built a hut here that some of his men might remain to fish, took his vessels farther south, for winter-quarters, into a bay separated from Frobisher Bay on the south by only a narrow strip of land. This Mr. Hall named Field Bay. Here, snugly hid in an inlet of its upper waters, the vessels proposed to winter. The Esquimo were not long in finding the new anchorage of the whites, and in a few days a fleet of kayaks containing seven families appeared. Among them was Kudlago's oldest daughter, now married to a native the sailors called Johnny Bull. She had not heard of her father's death, and stepped on deck elated at the thought of meeting him. "Where is my father?" she inquired of Ugarng's wife. When she was tenderly told the sad story of his death she wept freely.
Mr. Hall was at once busy visiting the "tupics," summer tents made of skins, pitched by the natives near the shore. He also rowed to the islands in various directions, generally accompanied by one or more Esquimo. On one of these visits to an island with a boy he had a narrow escape. After several hours' ramble they returned to the landing, where they had left their boat fastened to a rock. The tide had risen and the boat was dancing on the waves out of reach. Here was a "fix!" They were far away from the vessel, the night, cold and dark, was coming on, and they were without shelter. But necessity sharpens one's wits, After some delay and perplexity, Mr. Hall hit upon this plan: He took the seal-skin strings from his boots, and the strings by which various scientific instruments were attached to his person, tied them together, and thus made quite a long and strong line. To this he tied a moderate sized stone. Holding one end of the line in his hand, he tossed the stone into the boat and gently drew it to him, jumped into it, and was soon at the vessel. If Mr. Hall had not been agreenboatman he would not have fastened his boat below high-water mark when the tide was coming in! He probably did not again.
One day the crew of the "Henry" captured a whale in the bay, and the Esquimo joined with others in towing the monster to the ship. In one of the boats was an Esquimo woman with a babe; she laid her child in the bow of the boat and pulled an oar with the strongest of the white men.Before they reached the vessel the wind blew a gale, the sea ran high, and at times the spray shot into the air and came down in plentiful showers into the boat. The mother cast anxious glances at her child, and, as if it was for its life, rowed with giant strength. At last the prize was safely moored to the "Henry," and the natives were rewarded with generous strips of its black skin, which they ate voraciously, raw and warm from the animal. They carried portions of it to their tupics on shore for future use. This skin is about three fourths of an inch thick, and, in even Mr. Hall's estimation, is "good eating" when raw, "but better soused in vinegar."
Soon after this, Captain Tyson brought the "Georgiana" round into Field Bay, and the crews of the two vessels were often together when a whale made its appearance, a circumstance sometimes the occasion of strife when he is captured. One day Smith, an officer of the "Henry," fastened a harpoon in a whale, and was devising means to secure his prey. Captain Tyson, who was near in his boat, killed the monster with his lances, and without a word, left Smith to enjoy the pleasure of taking it to his vessel. The generous act was appreciated on board the "Henry."
On the twenty-sixth of December a terrible storm commenced, causing the boats which were cruising for whales to scud home. The three vessels—the "Henry," "Rescue," and "Georgiana"—were anchored near each other, and near an island toward which the wind was blowing. It was aboutnoon when the storm began, and as the day declined the wind increased, bringing on its wings a cloud of snow. When the night came on it was intensely dark, and the waves rose higher and higher as, driven by the tempest, they rolled swiftly by and dashed upon the rocky shore. The vessels labored heavily in the billows and strained at their anchors, now dipping their bows deep in the water, then rising upon the top of a crested wave, and leaping again into the trough of the sea, as if impatient of restraint and eager to rush upon the rocks to their own destruction. The roar of the sea and the howling of the winds through the shrouds were appalling to all on board, while they awaited with breathless interest the integrity of the anchors, on which their lives depended.
As the night wore on the watch on deck, peering through the darkness, saw the dim outlines of the "Rescue" steadily and slowly moving toward the shore. "She drags her anchors!" were the fearful words which passed in whispers through the "George Henry." But all breathed easier to hear the report from the watch soon after that she had come to a pause nearly abreast of the "Henry."
About midnight the storm put forth all the fury of its power, and the small anchor of the "Georgiana" gave way, and the others went plowing along their ocean beds, and, as the vessel neared the island, her destruction and the loss of all on board seemed certain. The endangered craft worried round a point of rocks, pounding against them as she went, and reached smoother and saferwaters, where her anchors remained firm. The ghostly-looking forms of her men were soon after seen on the island, to which they had escaped! In the mean time the men on the "Henry" were in constant fear that their vessel would be dashed upon rocks.
Just as the morning was breaking the "Rescue" broke away and went broadside upon the island. With a crash the breakers hurled her against the rocks, and seemed to bury her in their white foam. She was at once a hopeless wreck, but her crew still clung bravely to her. When the morning light had fully come, at the first lull in the storm, while yet the waves rolled with unabated fury, a whale-boat was lowered into the sea from the stern of the "Henry" with a strong line attached, and mate Rogers and a seaman stepped into it. Cautiously and skillfully it was guided to the stern of the "Rescue." Into it her men were taken, and drawn safely to the "Henry." All were saved! A shout of joy mingled with the tumult of the elements!
The "Henry" safely outrode the storm. The "Georgiana" was not seriously injured, and her men returned to her and sailed away for other winter-quarters. The "Rescue" was a complete wreck, and, what was a stunning blow to the enterprise of Mr. Hall, his expedition boat, in which, with an Esquimo crew, he had hoped to reach the far-away land of his lone sojourn and search for the Franklin men, was totally wrecked too! What now should he do? That was to him the questionof questions. One thing he resolvednotto do—he would not abandon his mission. Captain Buddington thought at first that he might spare him one of the ship's boats in which to reach King William's Land; but, on careful inquiry, he found that the only one he could part with was rotten and untrustworthy. So waiting and watching became his present duty.
THE AURORA.
MR. HALL had an eye for the beautiful in nature. The aurora deeply impressed him, inspiring feelings of awe and reverence. It will be noticed that explorers in the low latitude of Frobisher Bay are treated to displays of the aurora on a scale of magnificence and beauty never seen in the high latitudes of the winter-quarters of Dr. Kane and Hayes. Night after night through the months of October, November, and December Mr. Hall's sensitive nature was in raptures at the wonderful sights. The heavens were aglow. The forms of brightness, and colors of every hue, changed with the rapidity of fleecy clouds driven before the wind. Before the mind had comprehended the grandeur of one scene, it had changed into another of seeming greater beauty of form, color, and brightness. Thousands of such changes occurred while he gazed. No wonder he exclaims: "Who but God could conceive such infinite scenes of glory! Who but God execute them, painting the heavens in such gorgeous display!"
Again he exclaims: "It seemeth to me as if the very doors of heaven have opened to-night, somightyandbeauteousandmarvelouswere the waves of golden light which swept across the azuredeep, breaking forth anon into floods of wondrous glory. God made his wonderful works to be remembered."
Mr. Hall had been on deck several times, witnessing the enrapturing display, and had returned into the cabin to go to bed, when the captain shouted down the companion-way: "Come above, Hall, at once!The world is on fire!" Mr. Hall hastened on deck. He says: "There was no sun, no moon, yet the heavens were flooded with light. Even ordinary print could be read on deck. Yes, flooded withriversof light!—andsuchlight! light all but inconceivable! The golden hues predominated; but in rapid succession prismatic colors leaped forth.
"We looked, we saw, and we trembled; for even as we gazed the whole belt of aurora began to be alive with flashes. Then each pile or bank of light became myriads; some now dropping down the great pathway or belt, others springing up, others leaping with lightning flash from one side, while more as quickly passed into the vacated space; some, twisting themselves into folds, entwining with others like enormous serpents, and all these movements as quick as the eye could follow. It seemed as though there was a struggle with these heavenly lights to reach and occupy the dome above our heads. Then the whole arch above became crowded. Down, down it came! nearer and nearer it approached us! Sheets of golden flames, coruscating while leaping from the auroral belt, seemed as if met in their course bysome mighty agency that turned them into the colors of the rainbow.
"While the auroral fires seemed to be descending upon us, one of our number exclaimed, 'Hark! hark!' Such a display, as if a warfare were going on among the beauteous lights, seemed impossible without noise. But all was silent."
After the watchers, amazed at what they saw, retired to the cabin, they very naturally commenced a lively conversation on what they had witnessed. Captain Buddington declared that, though he had spent most of his time for eleven years in the northern regions, he had never witnessed so grand and beautiful a scene. And he added in an earnest tone: "To tell you the truth, friend Hall, I do not care to see the like again!"
In November Mr. Hall became acquainted with two remarkable Esquimo whom we shall often meet. Their names were Ebierbing and his wife Tookoolito, but were known among the white people as Joe and Hannah. They had been taken to England in 1853, and lionized there for two years. They had visited the great and good of that land at their homes, and had aptly learned many of the refinements of civilization. Queen Victoria had honored them with an audience, and they had dined with Prince Albert. Joe declared that the queen was "pretty—yes, quite pretty;" and the prince was "good—very good." They made their visit on shipboard in a full-blown English dress, but when Mr. Hall returned their visit in theirtupicon shore they were in the Esquimo costume.Yet Tookoolito busied herself with herknittingduring his call. She said, as they conversed: "I feel very sorry to say that many of the whaling people are bad, making the Innuits bad too; they swear very much, and make our people swear. I wish they would not do so. Americans swear a great deal—more and worse than the English. I wish no one would swear. It is a very bad practice I believe."
Tookoolito's spirit and example had done much to improve her people, especially the women; these, many of them, had adopted her habit of dressing her hair, and of cleanliness of person and abode. In her and her husband, whom we shall meet often, we shall see the Esquimo as modified by a partial Christian civilization.
Mr. Hall made frequent visits to the Esquimo village on shore, mingling with the people, conforming to their habits, and studying their character. Their summer, skin-covered huts—tupics—had now given way to theigloos, the snow-house, essentially like those we have before seen. We will accompany Mr. Hall in a visit made in October. He found on creeping into a hut a friend whom he knew as a pilot and boatman; his name was Koojesse. He was sitting in the midst of a group of women drinking with a gusto hot seal blood. Our white visitor joined them, and pronounced the dish excellent. On going out he was met by blind George. "Mitter Hall! Mitter Hall!" shouted the blind man on hearing Mr. Hall's voice. There was a pensive earnestness inthe call which arrested his attention. "Ugarng come to-day!" continued George. "He come to-day. My little Kookooyer way go! She here now. Speak-um, Ugarng! My little pickaninny way go! Speak-um."
The facts were these: Ugarng, who, as we have stated, had married George's wife, and taken with the mother his little daughter, was at the village attended by the latter. George, who was very fond of the child, desired her company for a while. Mr. Hall did of course "speak-um." Ugarng and the darling Kookooyer were soon seen in happy intimacy with her father.
Mr. Hall's attention was attracted by an excited crowd, who were listening to the harangue of a young man. He was evidently master of the situation, for at one moment his audience clenched their fists and raved like madmen, and then, under another touch of his power, they were calm and thoughtful, or melted to tears. He was anAngekok, and was going through a series ofankootings, or incantations. His howlings and gesticulations were not unlike those of the heathen priests of the East, and of the medicine men of our Indians. On seeing Mr. Hall the Angekok left his snow-platform, from which he had been speaking, and ran to him with the blandest smiles and honied words. He put his arm in his and invited him into his tent, or place of worship, as it might be called; others ran ahead, and it was well filled with worshipers. Koojesse, who was passing at the time with water for the ship, on a wave of theAngekok's hand set his pail down and followed. All faithful Esquimo in this region obey the Angekok. If he sees one smoking, and signifies that he wishes the pipe, the smoker deposits it in the Angekok's pocket.
When in the tent the Angekok placed Koojesse on one side, and Mr. Hall facing him on the other side. Now commenced the service. The Angekok began a rapid clapping of his hands, lifting them at times above his head, then passing them round in every direction, and thrusting them into the faces of the people, muttering the while wild, incoherent expressions. The clapping of his hands was intermitted by a violent clapping of the chest on which he sat, first on the top, then on the sides and end. At times he would cease, and sit statue-like for some moments, during which the silence of death pervaded the audience. Then the clapping and gesticulations broke forth with increased violence. Now and then he paused, and stared into the farthest recess of the tent with the fiery eyes and the hideous countenance of a demon. At the right time, to heighten the effect, the wizard, by a quick sign or sharp word, ordered Koojesse to fix his eyes on this point of the tent, then on that, intimating in mysterious undertones that in such placesKudlago's spirit shook the skin covering! Koojesse, though one of the most muscular and intelligent of the natives, obeyed with trembling promptness, while the profuse sweat stood in drops upon his nose, (Esquimo perspire freelyonlyon the nose,) and his countenancebeamed with intense excitement. The climax was at hand. The Angekok's words began to be plain enough for Mr. Hall's ears. Kudlago's spirit was troubled. Would the white man please give it rest? One of his double-barreled guns would do it! White man! white man! give Kudlago's spirit rest! Give the double-barreled gun!
The cunning wizard! But Mr. Hall, who, though brimful of laugh, had been a sober-looking listener, was not to be caught with this chaff,except in his own interest. He whispers to Koojesse, "Would the Angekok be a good man to go with me in the spring to King William's Land?"
"Yes," was the reply.
Then Mr. Hall turned to the Angekok and said aloud, "If you go with me next spring on my explorations you shall have one of my best guns."
Thinking the gift was to be given immediately, his crafty reverence shouted, thanked Mr. Hall, threw his arms about his neck, and danced with an air of triumph about the tent, seeming to say as he looked upon his amazed followers, "I have charmed a kablunah"—white man.
Mr. Hall tried to set him right about the terms of the gift—that it was to be when he had served him in the spring. But he would understand it as he would have it. His joy found a fullness of expression when, pointing to his two wives, he said to Mr. Hall, "One shall be yours; take your choice." He was disgusted when the white man told him that he had a wife, and that kabluna wanted but one wife.
THE DYING ESQUIMO.
CHRISTMAS and New Year's (1861) were not forgotten as holidays by the sojourners in the regions of cold and ice. Mr. Hall gave his friend Tookoolito a Bible as a memento of December twenty-fifth. She was much pleased, and at once spelled out on the title-page,Holy Bible.
Mr. Hall having heard that an Esquimo named Nukerton was seriously sick, invited Tookoolito to visit her with him. Sitting down with the sick one, with Tookoolito as an interpreter, Mr. Hall spoke to her of Jesus and the resurrection, while many of her friends stood listening with intense interest. Tookoolito bent over her sick friend weeping, and continued the talk about God, Christ, and heaven, after Mr. Hall had ceased.
Mr. Hall visited the sick one daily, administering to her bodily and spiritual wants. Going to see her on the fourth of January, he found that a new snow-hut had been built for the dying one, and her female friends had carried her into it, opening, to pass her in, a hole on the back side. It was at once her dying chamber and her tomb. For this purpose it was built in conformity to the Esquimo usage. He found Nukerton in her newquarters of stainless snow, on a bed of snow covered with skins, happy at the change though she knew that she had been brought there to die,and to die alone, as was the custom of her people. Mr. Hall proposed to carry her to die on board the ship. But even Tookoolito objected to this. It was better she should die alone; such was the custom of their fathers. Mr. Hall remained to watch alone with the dying one, but, on his leaving her igloo to do an errand at a neighboring tent, her friends sealed up its entrance. He threw back the blocks of snow piled against it and crept in. Nukerton was not dead; she breathed feebly; the lamp burned dimly, and the cold was intense; the solemn stillness of the midnight hour had come; sound of footsteps were heard, and a rustling at the entrance. Busy hands were fastening it up, not knowing, perhaps, that Mr. Hall was within. "Stop! stop!" he shouted, and all was silent as the grave. "Come in!" he again said. Koodloo, Nukerton's cousin, and a woman came in. They remained a few moments and left. Mr. Hall was alone again, and remained until the spirit of the dying woman departed. He gently closed her eyes, laid out the body as if for Christian burial, closed up the igloo, and departed.
Mr. Hall knew cases, later in his stay with this people, in which the dying were for some time alone before the vital spark was extinguished. The only attendance that the sick have is the howling and mummery of the Angekoks, who are sometimes women. They give no medicine.
Mr. Hall made several sledge excursions with his Innuit friends. One to Cornelius Grinnell Bay was full of thrilling incidents, of storms, of perils by the breaking up suddenly of the ice on which he had encamped, and one showing the wolfish rapacity of Esquimo dogs. He also had a bear chase and capture. But these, though full of exciting interest, are similar to those of other explorers, already related. The Esquimo themselves, with all their knowledge of the ice and storms, have many desperate adventures. A party of them was once busily engaged in spearing walrus, when the floe broke up and they went out to sea, and remained three months on their ice-raft! The walrus were plenty, and they had a good time of it, and returned safely.
We have given our readers an incident relating to Mr. Hall's dog, Barbekark—a not very creditable incident, it will be remembered, so far as that dog's discernment of moral right is concerned. But then we must remember that heathen dogs are not supposed to know much in that respect. Barbe, as we will call him for shortness, appears again in our story in a way which shows that he was very knowing about some matters at least.
One day, at nine in the morning, a party of the ship's company, attended by the native Koojesse, started for an excursion into Frobisher Bay. When well out of sight of the vessel a blinding storm arose, making farther progress both difficult and dangerous. Koojesse counseled an immediateconstruction of a snow-hut, and a halt until the storm subsided, which was the right thing to do. But the white leader ordered a return march. The dogs, as they generally will with a fierce wind blowing in their face, floundered about in reckless insubordination. Their leader, a strong animal, finally assumed his leadership, and dragged them for a while toward some islands just appearing in sight. But Barbe set back in his harness, pricked up his ears, and took a deliberate survey of the situation. To be sure he couldseeonly a few rods in any direction, but his mind was made up. He turned his head away from the islands, and drew with such vigor and decision that all, both men and dogs, yielded to his guidance. Through the drifts, and in the face of bewildering clouds of snow which darkened their path, he brought the party straight to the ship! A few hours more of exposure and all would have perished.
Young Barbe was a brave hunter as well as skillful guide. On a bright morning in March, the lookout on the deck of the "Henry" shouted down the gangway that a herd of deer were in sight. Immediately the excitement of men and dogs was at fever-heat. The dogs, however, did not get the news until Koojesse had crept out, and from behind an island had fired upon the deer. His ball brought down no game, but the report of the gun called out Barbe with the whole pack of wolfish dogs at his heels, in full pursuit of the flying, frightened deer. The fugitives made tortuous tracks, darting behind the islands, now this way,and then off in another direction. But Barbe struck across their windings along the straight line toward the point at which they were aiming, while the rest of the dogs followed their tracks, and so fell behind. Koojesse returned to the vessel, the hope which just now was indulged of a venison dinner was given up, and the affair was nearly forgotten, except that some anxiety was felt lest the dogs should come to harm in their long and reckless pursuit.
About noon Barbe came on board having his mouth and body besmeared with blood. He ran to this one, and then to that, looking beseechingly into their faces, and then running to the gangway stairs, where he stopped and looked back, as much as to say, "An't you coming? Do come, I'll show you something worth seeing!" His strange movements were reported to Mr. Hall in the cabin, but being busy writing he took no notice of it. One of the men having occasion to go toward the shore Barbe followed him, but finding that he did not go in the right direction he whined his disappointment, and started out upon the floe, and then turned and said as plainly as a dog could speak, "Come on; this is the way!"
A party from the ship determined now to follow. Barbe led them a mile northward, then, leaving them to follow his foot-prints in the snow, he scampered off two miles in a western direction. This brought the men to an island, under the shelter of which they found the dogs. Barbe was sitting at the head of a slaughtered deer, and hiscompanions squatting round as watchful sentinels. The deer's throat had been cut with Barbe's teeth, the jugular vein being severed as with a knife. The roots of the tongue, with bits of the windpipe, had been eaten, the blood sipped up, but nothing more. Several crows were pecking away at the carcass unforbidden by Barbe, who petted crows as his inferiors.
Barbe wagged his tail and shook his head as the men came up, and said in expressive dog-language, "See here, now! didn't I tell you so!"
The disturbed and blood-stained snow around showed that the deer had fought bravely. One of his legs was somewhat broken in the bloody conflict, which incident might have determined Barbe's victory.
The men skinned the deer, and bore the skin and dissected parts to the vessel.
CUNNING HUNTERS.
OUR sketch of Mr. Hall's Esquimo life brings us to the early summer of 1861. He had made many excursions in and about Frobisher and Field Bays which we have not noted. Their results were mainly valuable for the relics obtained of the visits here of the famous old explorer Frobisher, nearly three hundred years ago. There were, too, he ascertained, traditions among the natives of these visits, as well as that of Parry, nearly fifty years before, which so well accorded with the known facts as to show the reliability of such traditions.
An incident occurred during one of these excursions which illustrates the deceitful effect of refraction in the northern atmosphere. He landed on a headland in Frobisher Bay, and secured an enchanting view of land and sea. Points of historic interest were under his eye, and nature was clothed with a wild Arctic beauty. But an object of still more thrilling interest comes in view. A steamer! Yes, there is her hull and smoke-pipe, all very unmistakable! See, she tacks, now this way, then that, working her way no doubt toward the land on which he stands.
Mr. Hall ran to the camp, and told the goodnews to Koojesse and Ebierbing, his companions. His mind was fairly bewitched with visions of news from civilization, from his country, and perhaps letters from his dear ones of the family circle. Each shouldered his loaded gun, and walked round to the point on the shore toward which the steamer was coming. They would make a loud report with their guns, andcompelthose on board to notice them. When they reached the spot there was no steamer. The Esquimo looked with blank amazement, and turned inquiringly toward Mr. Hall. Had she sailed away? No, that was impossible. It was only that rock yonder, half buried in snow! There, it does even now look like a steamer! Wait a while. No, it no more looks like a steamer than it looks like a cow! It is a cruel "sell!"
It will be recollected that the "George Henry" had made her winter-quarters in a little nook in Field Bay called Rescue Harbor. From his home in her cabin Mr. Hall was going forth on his explorations. But the whalers had made a "whaling depot" on a cape of Frobisher Bay, which commanded a view of its waters and of the waters of Davis Strait. Here they watched for whales, or made excursions after them. To this depot Mr. Hall made an excursion with Koojesse about the middle of June. On their way over the ice, Koojesse gave illustrations of two Esquimo methods of taking seal that were very peculiar. The dogs scented the seal and broke into a furious run, making the sledge "spin" over the ice. Soon Koojesseperceived him lying with his head near his hole. On the instant the dogs and their driver set up a vociferous, startling yell. The seal lifted up his head, frightened almost out of his wits, so that the dogs were within a few rods of him before he so far recovered his senses as to plunge into his hole and escape.
Koojesse said that only young seals are so caught. In this case fright had nearly cost the poor seal his life.
At another time Koojesse saw a seal sunning himself, and lying, as is their habit, near his hole. The hunter stopped the sledge, took his gun, and, keeping back the dogs, lay down and drew himself along upon his breast, making at the same time a peculiar, plaintive sound, varied in intonation. To this "seal talk," as the Esquimo term it, the animal listens, and is charmed into a pleasant persuasion that some loving friend is near. He looks, listens, and then lays his head languidly upon the ice. So the wily hunter approaches within easy range, the rifle cracks, and the fatal ball goes through the vitals of the confiding seal. Thus seals, like men, sometimes die of alarm, and are sometimes taken in the flatterer's snare.
Mr. Hall found the whale depot a busy place. Numerous tents of the white men and Esquimo were grouped together, in the midst of which, on a substantial flag-staff, the stars and stripes were waving. The Esquimo and dogs proclaimed their welcome in their peculiar way, and the officers and crew made the visitor feel at home.
The question soon discussed concerned a boat for Mr. Hall's journey to King William's Land. Captain Buddington said seriously that the question had been much on his mind, and had been anxiously considered, and his painful conclusion was that he had no whale-boat adequate for the undertaking. The boat made on purpose for that service, which had been lost when the "Rescue" was wrecked, was the only one brought into those waters which could convey him safely. To go in any other would be to throw away his life. So Mr. Hall said heroically: "I will make the best of my stay here, in explorations and study of the Esquimo traits and language. Do you return to the States, get another suitable boat, and, God willing, I will yet go to King William's Land."
Touching incidents of Innuit life were constantly passing before Mr. Hall. Here is one. There was a young man, Etu, about twenty-five years of age, whom our old acquaintance, Ugarng, had taken into his favor. Etu had the misfortune to be born spotted all over his body, precisely like the snow-white and black spotting of the skin of one species of seal. His heathen parents seemed on this account to have loathed their child, for, after enduring his presence a few years in the family, the father carried him to an unfrequented barren island to die. But God, who cared for the child Ishmael and the little Moses, watched over Etu. He caught the sea-birds which flocked to the landwith his hands—an extraordinary exploit. The summer thus passed and winter came, and theboy yet lived. It so happened—shall we not the rather say, God so ordered—that a kayak of natives rowed that way. They were surprised when they saw a boy alone on a drear island, and the child was frightened at their presence. But when they made friendly signs he rushed into their arms.
The boy returned to his people, but being shunned and slighted he became discouraged and indolent. Such was his situation when Ugarng took him into his family. One day Mr. Hall entered the tent of Ebierbing and found there a girl thirteen years of age, Ookoodlear, weeping as though her heart would break. She also was of Ugarng's family, but had been staying with the kindTookoolito, wife of Ebierbing. Her trouble was that Ugarng was coming to take her away and make her the wife of Etu! Marry a seal-spotted man! the thought was awful! Then, she was so young!
Ebierbing took with him a friend, and called upon Etu and told him the dislike felt toward him of the girl. Poor Etu! Then Tookoolito agreed with Ugarng to take charge of Ookoodlear, so the marriage was prevented.
Marriage contracts among the Esquimo are made by the parents or other friends, often in the childhood of the parties. Those immediately concerned seldom have any thing to do or say in the matter. Among the Esquimo of Whale Sound the proposed bridegroom was sometimes required to be able to carry off to his igloo, in spite of herself, his intended bride. The resistance in such caseson the part of the woman is supposed to depend upon circumstances.
There is no marriage ceremony. In these Esquimo communities the two great events, marriage and death, transpire without special note. Among the natives of the region we are now visiting the newborn child generally first sees the light alone with its mother, and in an igloo built expressly for her.
Late in July the ice broke up and liberated the "George Henry" from her icy prison. The sailors returned on board, and she sailed away on a whaling cruise. Mr. Hall was left alone with his Innuit friends. He had planned a voyage of exploration in his whale-boat with a crew of them, to be absent about two months. On his return, if he found the whalers in those regions he would go to the States in one of them; if not, he would remain in Esquimo life until their return.
Ebierbing and Tookoolito were of course to be of his party. But Ebierbing was taken seriously sick and so was prevented from accompanying him, much to his regret. His crew, as finally selected, were Koojesse and wife, Charley (his Esquimo name is too long to write) and his wife, Koodloo, and a widow, Suzhi, remarkable for her great size and strength, weighing two hundred.
The party were off the ninth of August. They passed through Lupton Channel, a narrow run of water connecting Field Bay with Frobisher Bay. A white whale preceded them, leisurely keeping the lead, as if conscious that there were no harpoons in the boat; perhaps he assumed his safetyfrom the presence of the women. The sea-fowl were abundant. The Esquimo, to save ammunition, adopted one of their own amusing yet cruel ways of capturing them. They rowed softly and swiftly to a cluster of them in the water. Just as the birds were about to fly the whole crew set up a most terrific yell, at the same time stamping and throwing their arms about with wild gesticulations. Down go the frightened birds, diving, instead of flying, to escape the enemy. The crew now seize their oars, and the steerer guides the boat by the disturbed surface of the water to the spot where they come up. The moment they show their heads the uproar is renewed. Down go the birds again without taking breath. This course, though exciting sport to the hunters, is soon death to the poor birds, which, exhausted and finally drowned, are picked from the surface of the water. One of the ducks taken in this way was a mother with a fledgeling. As the parent gasped in its dying agony, the child would put its little bill in her mouth for food, and then nestle down under her for protection.
The explorers having entered Frobisher Bay, sailed west along its northern shore. They camped at night on the land, and made slow progress by day. The Esquimo were in no hurry, while Mr. Hall would make good time to the extreme west of the bay and survey that line of coast, as the waters had hitherto been deemed a strait. But his free and easy companions were more disposed to have a good time than to add to geographicalknowledge. At one time Koojesse, taking up Mr. Hall's glass, saw a bear some miles away on an island. Fresh duck was plenty on board, and a chase after "ninoo" at the expense of time was unnecessary. But it would befun; that settled the matter. Away sped the rickety old whale-boat, impelled by strong hands. Bruin soon snuffed the strangers, stood and looked, then comprehending the danger, turned and ran over to the other side of the island. Soon the boat was in sight of him, and he plunged into the water. The Esquimo now adopted a part of the game they had played so successfully on the ducks. They occasionally made a sudden and deafening uproar. Ninoo would stop and turn round to see what was the matter, and so time was gained by his pursuers. But he made good speed for the main land, and after a while began so far to comprehend the situation that no noise arrested his course. On he went for dear life. The balls soon reached him and dyed his coat in crimson, yet he halted not until one struck his head. This enraged him; he deemed the play decidedly foul. He turned, showed his teeth, and this brought the boat to a stand-still. The hunters did not care for a hand-to-paw fight. The rifle settled the unequal conflict, and ninoo's body was towed ashore.
The bladder of the bear was inflated, and with some othercharms, put on a staff to be elevated on the top of the tupic when the party encamped, and in the bow of the boat when sailing. This insured good luck according to Esquimo notions.
The explorers were, while in camp at one time, in want of oil for their lamp. Koodloo found some strips of sea-blubber and carried it to Suzhi, who was "in tuktoo"—that is, in bed. She sat up, rested upon her elbows, put a dish before her, took the blubber, bit off pieces, chewed it and sucked the oil out, and then spirted it out into the dish. In this way she "milled" oil enough to fill two large lamps. This done she lay down again and slept, with unwashen hands and face. There were no white sheets to be soiled.