There being no cairn, as a matter of course there was no guide to conduct us to it; but instead of returning to New York from Camp Daly, as he would have been justified in doing, Lieutenant Schwatka determined to make the summer search in King William Land, in order to find the records, if possible; or, at any rate to so conduct the search as to make it final and conclusive of the Franklin expedition. Lieutenant Schwatka was much impressed with the statements made by Nutargeark, especially as this native's intelligence and veracity were tested by his pointing out correctly upon the map the location of cairns which he had seen, including one at Cape Herschel, built by Dease and Simpson in 1839, and the spot where McClintock saw a boat with skeletons. Both Hall and McClintock account for the fact of so few bodies being found, by the presumption that Captain Crozier and his men followed the shore ice down, and, dying there, fell through into the water when the ice melted during the summer. Nutargeark, however, said that there were plenty of bodies lying upon the ground on King William Land, which would be invisible in winter from being covered with snow. To verify these statements was the purpose of our journey.
The first thing necessary was to get dogs enough for our teams. To that end I made a visit to the land of the Kinnepatoos, which is about seventy miles west and north from Marble Island. I found them in igloos, upon a large lake on the western shore of Hudson Bay, and was the first white man who had been there. Many of this tribe had never seen a white man before, but all were exceedingly friendly. I found that they had but few available dogs, but succeeded in securing from them several fine animals by the exchange of ammunition, tobacco, and matches, which are the staples of trade with these people. I found their igloos to be much larger and better built than those of the northern natives. The entrance would usually be by a narrow passage-way, excavated from a snow-drift, six to eight feet below the surface, and perhaps twenty-five or thirty feet long. They had no fires for heating the igloos, and, consequently, there was a clammy, vault-like atmosphere indoors that was anything but pleasant. They use oil only for light, and, even in the depth of winter, cook what little food they do not eat raw with moss. As I approached the village I was walking ahead of my guides, who were with the sled. It was getting late, and we were endeavoring to trace the direction by following the tracks on the snow which covered the lake; but a high wind, which was blowing from the north, had nearly obliterated all signs and rendered the task a difficult one. Presently, however, I heard the barking of dogs and the voices of a number of children, who soon appeared approaching over a hill on the right bank of the lake, beyond which the village was built. I hastened toward them, and was shortly conducted into an igloo where all the men were seated, tailor fashion, around bones which showed that justice had been done to a hearty repast of frozen deer meat. They extended a rude but cordial welcome, and hospitably inquired if I was hungry; but as I had recently eaten a quantity of frozen salmon I declined further food. I had long ago learned to relish fish and meat which they call "topee," and which civilized people denominate "rotten". When frozen it does not taste any worse than some kinds of cheese smell, and is a strong and wholesome diet unless eaten in great quantities. It fortifies the system against cold, and, shortly after eating, causes a healthy glow of warmth to pervade the body, even in the coldest weather. I can now eat almost anything an Esquimau can, and almost as much. Though the weather during the four days of my journey out was intensely cold—the thermometer ranging from thirty to sixty degrees below zero most of the time, with a strong wind blowing—I did not suffer with the cold, except that my nose and cheeks would occasionally freeze. In fact, if I had no nose I believe I could stand the cold nearly as well as the natives. Even they are constantly freezing their noses and cheeks, and there seems to be no way of avoiding this very disagreeable contingency.
I was with the Kinnepatoos a week, during which I lived upon frozen meat and fish, and enjoyed myself studying their habits and customs. Every night they met in one large igloo, twenty-five feet in diameter at the base, and twelve feet high, where the men would play upon the ki-lowty while the women sung in unison. The ki-lowty is a drum, made by stretching a thin deerskin over a huge wooden hoop, with a short handle on one side. In playing, the man grasps the handle with his left hand, and constantly turns it, while he strikes it upon the wooden side, alternately, with a wooden drumstick shaped like a potato-masher. With each blow he bends his knees, and though there are various degrees of skill in playing, I have never yet learned to be critical. I can only see a difference in style. Some are dramatic, some classical, some furious and others buffo. The song is a monotonous, drawling wail, with which the drumming has no sort of connection, for it increases and diminishes in rapidity according to the pleasure or strength of the player. I am sure a concert, such as I witnessed nightly, would cause a sensation in New York, though I do not believe it would prove a lasting attraction to cultivated audiences. I frequently got very weary of it, and often slept during the performance without giving offence to my hosts by my lack of appreciation. One night the entertainment was varied by a dramatic performance that was exceedingly interesting. There were three players, who walked about the arena and conversed, occasionally passing off the stage, not by the right and left, but stooping down and darting in and out of the door of the igloo, an entrance two feet high and about the same width. As nearly as I could understand, while outside in the dark the players saw some supernatural horror, which on entering they would endeavor to explain to the audience; but words failing to convey all they felt, they resorted to pantomime, until at last one, who was more affected than the others, came in and expired in the arms of his comrades. I was intensely interested during this novel performance, and imagined I recognized considerable histrionic ability on the part of the players.
[Illustration: ESQUIMAU PLAYING THE KI-LOWTY.]
During the daytime those men who were not out hunting engaged in playing a game somewhat allied to gambling, which they call "nu-glew-tar." A small piece of bone is suspended from the roof by a line made of walrus hide, and a heavy weight dangles below it to keep it from swinging. The bone is pierced with four small holes, and the players, as many as choose to engage, stand around, armed with sharp sticks, with which they jab at the bone, endeavoring to pierce one of the holes. Some one starts the game by offering a prize, which is won by him who pierces the bone and holds it with his stick. The winner in turn offers something for the others to try for. It is perfectly fair, because unless one wins it costs him nothing. They are very fond of this game, and play almost incessantly. Another similar game is played by placing a prize in a bowl made out of a musk-ox skull, the players standing in a circle around the bowl, which is then set twirling rapidly. The one toward whom the handle points when the bowl stops moving is the winner, and replaces the prize with another. This game, like nu-glew-tar, has no end, and the players only stop when they get hungry and adjourn to eat. The men all dine together in one igloo, no women being allowed to be present, and generally demolish the whole of a carcass of reindeer at a meal. This may be called their dinner, but when they have plenty of food on hand they eat nearly all the time. In the morning, before getting out of bed, they eat; and at night, after getting into bed, or "sin-nek-pig," as they call it, they eat. A few whiffs from a pipe are always in order, and especially so after eating. The pipe is passed from mouth to mouth, without regard to any foolish civilized notions of cleanliness. Eating frozen fish or meat always makes one cold at first, but presently warm. So always, after eating the mid day repast, the men pull their hoods over their heads, draw their arms out of their sleeves and cross them over their warm, naked breasts, and wait patiently and in silence for the heated term to ensue; but during the silent period they resemble a group of mummies, and are about as cheerful. When they begin to feel warm their spirits rise, and they are soon like a parcel of good-natured children. When their stomachs are full they are contented and happy. The principal diet of the Kinnepatoos is deer meat, as that of the Iwilliehs is walrus and seal.
I left the Kinnepatoo village, returning to Marble Island in two days' journey, though it took me four days to go. I returned by a shorter route, and travelled after the sun had gone down, the moon affording sufficient light to see our way. On my return I discovered another large lake between the one on which the Esquimau village was located and the salt-water ice. This smaller lake is probably twelve miles long and from two to four miles wide. The larger one is about forty-five miles long and fourteen wide at the widest point. It is known among the natives as "The Big Lake," and with the approval of Lieutenant Schwatka I named it Brevoort Lake, after Mr. James Carson Brevoort, of Brooklyn, N. Y., whose deep interest in Arctic research was felt by this as well as other expeditions. The other lake I named after General Hiram Duryea, of Glen Cove, a warm personal friend and comrade in arms, who was also a contributor toward the expedition. On my way back to Marble Island, instead of following the shore ice along to the narrow place where the pack is choked between Rabbit and Marble islands, I struck off in nearly a direct line for our destination, crossing most of the distance over the thin new ice. The advantage in this route was that, besides being much shorter, the ice was free from snow, and the dogs could run at nearly full speed. To be sure it was open to the objection of being dangerous; but moving as rapidly as we did there was scarcely time for the sled to break through, though the water oozed up along the track of the sled as we sped swiftly over the surface of smooth thin ice. It was pretty venturesome, perhaps, and I might be excused if I was nervous, for twice before I had broken through on a sled and bathed in the waters of Hudson's Bay. But I was anxious to reach the ships and finish what work I had to do, so as to get back to Depot Island in time to have all the dogs well fed before starting upon our long journey.
I should here say that the dogs of Hudson's Bay and contiguous territory do not resemble those usually pictured in the illustrated editions of Arctic works, which are the Greenland dogs. From what I gather by reading of the performances of the dogs in Greenland and North-eastern Asia, and comparing them with our experience in Hudson's Bay, I should judge the animals from the latter country to be immeasurably the superior in endurance and pluck, though perhaps inferior in speed for one or two days' travel. When food is plentiful the dogs are fed every other day while travelling; but if living in camp once in ten or twelve days is considered enough, and often twenty days will intervene between meals. Not but that they pick up a trifle now and then, and by a raid on an igloo will secure meat enough to last for several days. Their mode of life forces upon them the character of thieves, and all their waking moments are devoted to the one object of making a raid. Whether it be on the meat in the igloo or the storehouse, or the bag of blubber for the lamps, or the seal-skin clothing, it is all the same. They know from experience that the severest penalty will be enforced as a punishment for their offence but to them the pleasure of theft and the exquisite bliss of greasing their stomachs with a slice of blubber outweighs every other consideration.
Too often have they felt the cruel snow-stick across their defenceless heads, and the sting of the long-lashed whip cutting a morsel of flesh at each blow, to doubt the quality of their reception, and the howl of pain as they start upon the grand rush is in anticipation of the end. A raid can sometimes be brought to an end with a good stout club that will knock a dog senseless at each blow; but there is nothing like the ip-er-ow-ter, the Esquimau dog whip, to bring them to their senses. The ip-er-ow-ter has a handle made of wood, bone, or reindeer horn, about twelve or eighteen inches long, and a lash from eighteen to thirty feet in length. The lash is of seal-skin or oak-jook, that part of the thong near the handle being plaited or doubled to stiffen it, or give a spring that adds materially to its usefulness.
The men acquire considerable dexterity in the use of this whip, the lash of which is thrown forward or back with a quick turn of the wrist. That portion of the lash near the handle strikes the ground first, and then the long seal-skin thong unwinds, gaining rapidity and strength as the end is reached, and this strikes with such force as to make the snow fly, and with a report like a pistol. It is not a handy implement, for it requires time to get in position to swing the long lash. First it is thrown back, and then forward—this time for execution; and it is no unusual thing to see a dog with an eye gone or a piece of ear missing—a witness to the power of the ip-er-ow-ter in the practised hand of the Esquimau dog driver. Even the boys are quite skilful in the use of the whip, and dog driving is taught them almost from infancy. The driver sits on the front part of the sled or runs alongside, the long lash of the whip trailing behind him on the snow, so that when occasion occurs calling for the administering of punishment it is already in the proper position for delivering the blow.
The first effect of the whip is to retard the sled. The dog that is struck invariably draws back, and then usually pitches upon his neighbor, and for a while there is a row that threatens the sled with stoppage. The driver usually takes advantage of this occasion to administer a general chastisement, each dog receiving a share of the punishment, whether guilty of insubordination or not. The Esquimau theory is, that if not deserving of the whip this time he would be before long, and so might as well receive it now as any time.
The dogs are attached to the sled by harness made of either reindeer or seal-skin. One loop passes around the neck, while each leg is lifted through a loop, all three loops joining over the back and fastened to a long seal-skin line. These lines are of different lengths, so as to allow the dogs to pull to greater advantage than if all the traces were of the same length, causing the dogs to spread out like a fan. At every few miles the traces have to be unloosened and extricated from the most abominable tangle that it is possible to conceive. This comes from a habit the dogs have of constantly running under and over the other traces to avoid the whip, or in some cases merely from a spirit of pure deviltry.
The leader of the team is a dog selected for his intelligence, and is one known as setting an example of constant industry under all circumstances. You will always see the leader of a team of dogs working as if the load was being drawn by him alone. He goes along, his head bent over and tugging in his harness, his mouth open and tongue lolling out, while his ears are ever ready to hear the word of command from the driver. To go to the left, the command is given, "Ah'-root," and to the right, "Why-ah'-wah-ha." Then he sometimes, to encourage or urge to greater exertion, says, "Ah-wah-hagh-oo-ar." To stop the team he says "Woah," as one says when driving horses. It is the noisiest method of travel yet invented, for the driver is constantly talking to his team, calling each by name, and usually following the word with a blow of the whip, so that the next time that dog is spoken to, he will understand that it means "hurry up." The conversation with a dog team is incessant, and the work of the driver is not confined to his team alone. He has to constantly keep watch over the front of the sled, to turn it to the right or left in order to avoid hummocks or stones that would upset the load or tear the ice from the bottom of the runners.
Inuits are fond of riding on the sled while travelling, and as long as there is a spot that would hold one they will pile up there. But should there be no place for them, they will run alongside without apparent discomfort for almost any length of time or distance. This is equally true of the children of both sexes, and when any are compelled to walk, for lack of dogs or of room on the sled, it is the women and girls who have to give way to the men and boys. With a light sled, and from nine to fifteen good strong dogs, the Esquimaux of North Hudson's Bay will sometimes make a journey of from eighty to one hundred miles during the long days of spring. A light sled has reference to one with nothing on it except the skins for the beds, a lamp and small quantity of oil, with not more than one or two days' rations of food. The same number of dogs will drag a sled, with about fifteen hundred pounds of load, at the rate of three or four miles an hour over the smooth salt-water ice and snow. When travelling with light sleds all the party ride, except when necessary to run for the purpose of getting warm. In travelling, and especially when starting from a halt, some one runs ahead of the team so as to get them to pull together. When the sleds are heavily loaded the start is effected in the same way, and the driver, gathering the reins in his hands, pulls back with all his might until he sees every dog straining against his collar, when he lets go his hold and all spring forward together.
It often happens that there are not a sufficient number of dogs, or that they are poor and unable to travel with sufficient rapidity, and then the people have to put on harness and help. First the women and children engage in this labor, and, lastly, the men. And the drivers will sit on the sled and smoke, with the utmost composure, while their wives and daughters are tugging in the harness. The women do not mind this treatment, for they are accustomed to it and look upon it as the proper thing. In the summer the Esquimaux use their dogs while travelling as pack animals, and a stranger would be astonished to see what loads these dogs will carry. I have seen a fine large dog that would carry two saddles of reindeer meat, or the entire fore-quarters of two reindeer. His back would be bent low beneath the burden he bore, but still he would struggle along, panting the while and regarding his master with a look of the deepest affection whenever he came near him yet ever ready to fight any other dog that got in his way.
These, then, were the faithful comrades of our march. Before the day appointed by Lieutenant Schwatka they were ready. We were all eager to start. The projected journey was one which more than one expedition had undertaken without success since Sir Leopold McClintock's memorable sledge journey, which accomplished so much, and left so much to be desired. We were determined to bring it to a successful issue. Our igloo life at Camp Daly during the previous winter had inured us to the climate, so that, though we often found the cold intensely disagreeable, we were free from the evil consequences that have assailed many expeditions and make Arctic travel so dangerous, though few have been exposed to such low temperature as was our party, especially during the return trip in the winter of 1879-80. Previous sledge journeys had taught us how to clothe ourselves and otherwise provide against the cold, and we had already become acquainted with Inuit fare, so that when the emergency arrived when we were compelled to subsist entirely upon such food, we did not regard it with that repugnance that those would who had not become accustomed to it. In other words, we had become thoroughly acclimated during the eight months we had already lived in the country.
It was eleven o'clock on the morning of the 1st of April when the three heavily laden sledges moved out from Camp Daly on to the shore ice of Hudson's Bay, and commenced the long march toward King William Land. Lieutenant Schwatka's preliminary sledge journey in the direction of Wager River, during midwinter, had determined him upon taking that route, though across land entirely unknown either to previous explorers or to any natives with whom we had come in contact. Whether we would find practicable watercourses, such as rivers and lakes, or whether mountain ranges would oppose their granite walls to farther progress, was yet to be ascertained. Its recommendation was that it was the most direct course, and whatever obstacles it might present would, when overcome, always leave us that much nearer our goal. As we reached the smooth salt-water ice, we turned to take a last look at Camp Daly, which had been so long our home—a comfortless dwelling-place indeed, but for all that a home—and I never expect to lose a feeling of affection for its barren rocks and forbidding scenery. Its snow-clad hills were almost hidden behind the hummocks that everywhere bound the shore and make it a difficult undertaking to get on or off the ice at low tide. The loaded sledges were making but slow progress as they wound through the rough ice, but greatly enlivened the landscape, which at other times is dreary and monotonous in the extreme. The drivers, by voice and whip, were urging on their teams; while the dogs made the wilderness ring with howls of pain or impatience. The men were bending their shoulders to the task, as the women and children walked ahead and coaxed the dogs to greater exertion. It was not difficult, as we looked upon this picture, to realize that we were at least under way, and the work for which we had renounced the comforts of civilization for so long a period had at last begun, and our spirits rose with the prospect of action.
[Illustration: CAMP DALY IN WINTER.]
It was not Lieutenant Schwatka's intention to make a long march this day, but to break loose from camp and get well straightened out on our course. Our direction was due east until we reached Winchester Inlet, where we turned north-north-west and took up our line of march upon the frozen waters of the newly-named Connery River. The sun was setting when we halted about ten miles from Camp Daly and built two igloos, one of which was occupied by Toolooah's family and the four white men, the other by the remainder of the party. After the first night, however, there were always three igloos, Joe and Ishmark, his father-in-law, building a separate one for themselves and their families. There was at first some dissatisfaction manifested by the Inuits of the party at the determination of our commander to move always with the entire outfit, whenever practicable, and never to make portages or, in other words, transport a portion of the loads ahead before moving on with the remainder, unless absolutely forced so to do, and experience demonstrated the wisdom of his decision. Inuits always prefer to move by portages when they have heavy loads and plenty of food on the sledges, and such had been the custom on all the previous sledge journeys made by "Esquimau Joe" in company with white men. He particularly was anxious to travel in that way, but Lieutenant Schwatka was resolute, and many days and many dogs were saved to us thereby.
The party was composed of four white men, Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka, United States Army, commander; W. H. Gilder, second in command; Henry W. Klutschak, and Frank Melms, with thirteen Inuits, as follows: "Esquimau Joe," interpreter; Neepshark, his wife; Toolooah, dog driver and hunter; Toolooahelek, his wife, and one child; Equeesik (Natchillik Inuit), dog driver and hunter; Kutcheenuark, his wife, and one child; Ishmark, Karleko, his wife, Koomana, their son, aged about thirteen, and Mit-colelee and Owanork, Equeesik's brothers, aged respectively about twenty and thirteen. The sleds were drawn by forty-two dogs, accumulated by hard work, persistent effort, and overpowering liberality with regard to guns, ammunition, and other articles of trade. The loads aggregated about five thousand pounds on the day of starting; but a large part of this consisting of walrus meat, both for dogs and people they were materially lightened from day to day. Our provisions besides the walrus meat comprised—
Hard bread 500 Lbs.Pork 200 Lbs.Compressed corned-beef 200 Lbs.Corn starch 80 Lbs.Oleomargarine 40 Lbs.Cheese 40 Lbs.Coffee 40 Lbs.Tea 5 Lbs.Molasses 20 Lbs.
This, it will be seen, is only about one month's rations of civilized food for seventeen people, and was, in fact, nearly exhausted by the time we reached King William Land. Our main dependence was, therefore, the game of the country through which we were travelling; a contingency upon which we had calculated and were willing to rely, having full faith in the superior quality of the arms and ammunition with which we had been so liberally equipped by American manufacturers. It is well for us that our faith was well founded, for there can scarcely be a doubt that it was this that made our expedition possible. In all other respects we were probably in a much worse condition than any previous expedition; but the quality of our arms put us at once upon a footing to derive all the benefit possible from the game of the country, a benefit of which we availed ourselves, as the unparalleled score of 522 reindeer, besides musk oxen, polar bears and seals will show. This is what was killed by our party from the time we left Camp Daly until our return. The quality of our provisions was excellent, and it was only deficient in quantity. The Inuit shared our food with us as long as it lasted, and, indeed, that was one of the inducements to accompany us on the journey. Some of the compressed corned-beef, corn starch, and cheese was reserved for the use of detached search parties on King William Land, as being the most condensed form of nutriment among our stores, and even that was shared with the Inuits who accompanied us during the search. Late in the afternoon of the second day's march we left Connery River, after crossing, with much difficulty, three rapids where the ice was piled up from fifteen to twenty feet high. The Connery was abandoned here on account of its direct westerly bearing and we moved across land to the Lorillard River, which we reached about noon of the 4th. This gave us several days good travelling in a northerly direction, when we again took the land, and moved somewhat to the eastward in order to avoid the Hazard Hills, which Lieutenant Schwatka discovered in his preliminary sledge journey. He found that range exceedingly precipitous, and so devoid of snow upon its summit as to materially impede our progress were we compelled to force a passage that way.
We witnessed a most peculiar and interesting spectacle on the 8th, in what appeared to be a frozen waterfall, about twenty-five feet in height, where a branch seemed to flow into the Lorillard from the west. At a distance it looked like a mountain torrent which had been arrested in its progress by some mighty hand and transformed into stone. Its ripples of crystals gleamed in the sunlight, and sparkled as if studded with myriads of gems. After enjoying its varied beauties for some time, I climbed to the top of the bank to make a closer inspection of it. Tracing its course for a short distance from the shore, I found a shallow brook which had frozen in a level place at the top of the hill, forcing the water to the right and left until it spread in a thin sheet over the face of the rock for a space of about fifty feet in breadth. Successive layers of ice were thus formed, and this novel and beautiful effect produced. The first few days of our journey were excessively fatiguing. The sleds were heavy, and we often had to put on our harness and help the dogs over a ridge or through a deep drift. We had not yet become hardened, and consequently experienced much difficulty from blistered feet and chafing; but as we got rid of our superfluous flesh these petty troubles became less annoying, and we did not so easily become fatigued from walking.
During the afternoon of the 12th we came suddenly upon a herd of reindeer, and the hunters killed three of them. The sleds then moved on and we went into camp in the vicinity of the carcasses, in order to get them in and cut up before dark. Soon we saw another smaller herd running over the hills pursued by five wolves, which we could hear howling at intervals during the evening until we went to sleep. That night they came into camp close to the igloos, and Toolooah, who always sleeps with one eye and one ear open, heard the dogs giving a peculiar low bark, with which they announce the presence of wolves. We had a box of Coston night signals close at hand in the igloo, and, knowing that a light frightens them away, made a small hole in the igloo and thrust out a "distress" signal with the most brilliant result. Toolooah was already dressed and outside the igloo as the light started, and said the wolves stopped and looked at it for a second and then fled in dismay, each change of color in the signal light seeming to lend additional wings to their flying feet. We saw them prowling around during the next day's march, but they kept at a respectful distance. During our entire trip the Coston signals served us a good purpose in keeping the wolves from our doors, though I don't remember that the prospectus mentioned this application as one of the advantages of keeping the signals on hand.
On the 14th of April the thermometer rose above the freezing-point in the middle of the day for the first time, and as we remained in camp while the hunters went ahead to pick out a better road, we gladly embraced the opportunity to dry our stockings. It is one of the greatest discomforts of Arctic travel that the exercise of walking wets one's fur stockings with perspiration. At night they freeze, and it is anything but an agreeable sensation to put bare feet into stockings filled with ice, which is a daily experience in winter travelling. But it is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to that sort of thing, and how little he minds it after a while. The warmth of the feet soon thaws the ice, and then a wet stocking is nearly as warm as a dry one, except in the wind. During the next day we were passing through a high rolling country, but with plenty of snow and not bad sledging. We found the descent of the hills always greater than the ascent, and presumed that we were approaching the bed of Wager River, as our route crossed the lower branch of that river, as mapped, well down toward the fork. The slope of these hills was usually so steep that we had to take the dogs off the sledges and let them run down upon the lakes by gravity. This was an exciting but not very dangerous method of travelling. So rapid would be the descent, that we had all we could do to hold on to the sleds trying to retard their progress. Some would be taking steps ten feet long, while others, with their feet planted straight out before them, were ploughing up the snow and scattering it in every direction. The dogs followed behind the sleds, running and barking, some of them, entangled in their harness, rolling over and dragged along by their swifter comrades. We were gratified to see plenty of reindeer nearly every day, as it relieved our anxiety concerning our commissariat. The ice upon the fresh-water lakes where we encamped averaged about six and a half feet. An occasional salmon is caught through the water hole by one of the women, who usually drop a line in after the hole is made.
[Illustration: DOWN-HILL WITH THE SLEDGES.]
The sun for the last three days had been insufferably hot, and my forehead and face were blistered painfully. It was altogether a new experience to have my nose blistered on one side by the sun, and on the other by a frost-bite. During my first winter in this country my nose was particularly tender. I could scarcely go out of doors without having it nipped. There is no pain in a frost-bite, but the cold upon my nose would cause me much suffering when first exposed to it, without exciting the least sympathy in my companions; but just as it would begin to feel comfortable once more, some one would run up and tell me, "Tling-yack quark" (Nose frozen), at the same time pressing a warm hand against it to thaw it out. The person who has the frozen nose is almost invariably surprised when informed of the fact. During winter travel people always have each other's noses and cheeks in charge, and one readily acquires the habit of occasionally taking hold of his nose, especially when it feels comfortable, to see if it is frozen. The frost-bite is at once detected by a white, wax-like patch, with edges sharply defined against the ruddy color of the healthy flesh. When you touch it, it feels cold and hard, and as if you had hold of somebody else's nose. It thaws readily, and without further inconvenience, under the pressure of a warm finger, unless it has been frozen for a long time. During the second winter, though exposed to an intensity of cold that is seldom encountered, it was seldom that I had a frozen nose or cheek. No serious frost bites occurred to any of our party, and I noticed that the Inuits suffered from the cold quite as much as the white men. The skin invariably comes off the frozen part within a few days, even when only slightly nipped. The consequence was that my nose was constantly peeling, and at all times as tender as an infant's. Now that the freezing days were about over, it began to peel from sunburn. I don't know how many layers of skin were thus removed, but more than I could account for, unless a man's nose is like an onion.
The sun was now having a very perceptible effect upon the snow, even when the black rocks began to peep up through the surface, and great patches of moss could be seen completely bare. The great bugbear of sledge travelling is stony ground, or a hidden rock beneath a thin layer of snow that cuts through and sweeps the ice from the runners before the sled can be stopped. When the ice is gone from the runners all comfort has gone with it. The sled that the dogs would drag without apparent difficulty suddenly seems to weigh tons. All hands in harness and pulling like slaves cannot accomplish more than two miles an hour. The ice is put upon the runners the first thing in the morning when coming out of the igloo. The sled is turned upside down, and the water, after being held in the mouth a little while to warm it, is squirted over the runners and freezes almost immediately in a temperature below zero. In this way successive layers are applied until a clean, smooth surface is acquired, upon which the sled slips over the snow with comparative case. Now, the ice was usually all off the sleds by noon, and progress was slow and laborious.
[Illustration: HUNTING MUSK-OXEN.]
We got an observation on the 21st at noon, which showed us our latitude to be 65 deg. 45 min. north, agreeing closely with Lieutenant Schwatka's dead reckoning. This, according to the chart, would put us on the north bank of Wager River; but as yet we had seen no signs of it, nor did we subsequently see anything that looked like such river. This can be accounted for by the presumption that the survey was made during the early summer, when the lakes are full, and some of the valleys connecting them may have contained water enough to float a boat. Before winter these might dry up and leave only a series of disconnected lakes. Fresh musk-ox tracks were seen on the 27th, and on the 29th we lay over to hunt some that Equeesik had seen after coming into camp on the 28th. After a chase of about three miles we succeeded in killing four, which completed our musk-ox score, as we saw no more either in going to or coming from King William Land. May 3d, we found water at a depth of eight feet, and on the 6th had to dig through eight and a half feet. This was the thickest ice we saw of one winter's formation. About noon of the 7th we ran into a herd of fourteen reindeer, lying down upon a hillside, and in less than three-quarters of an hour ten of them lay dead upon the field, and I believe those who got away carried some lead with them. Lieutenant Schwatka, who remained with the sleds, said that when the firing began it sounded for a while like a sharp battle, so rapidly and incessantly were the shots delivered. It clearly illustrates the advantage of breech-loaders and magazine guns when game is plentiful and much is required.
[Illustration: THE GREAT BEND IN HAYES RIVER.]
The next day a storm kept us in camp, but on the 9th we pulled out again and found the sledging in a most wretched condition. The country was very hilly and the snow entirely gone in many places, so that it occasioned much halting and considerable trouble to pick out a route by which the sled could move at all. About noon, however, we were rejoiced by reaching the head of a small river or creek by a perilous flying switch down a very long and steep hill. One of the sleds was overthrown, but fortunately it sustained no material damage, and was soon righted and landed on the ice below. One more flying run and we were safe upon the river. We had to congratulate ourselves upon the good fortune by which we discovered this river, for the land was getting more rugged all the time, and we began to fear that the snow, which was disappearing very rapidly, would soon be in such a condition that we could not travel at all, and we be left so near and get beyond reach of our destination. The range of hills from which we descended to the river was from eight hundred to a thousand feet high and their peaks entirely denuded of snow. Lieutenant Schwatka decided to keep to the river under all circumstances, though at present it was impossible to tell whether it was the Castor and Pollux or a branch of Back's River. It proved to be the latter, and quite an important branch, which we followed for upward of ninety miles, leaving it only when it turned due south and at a right angle to our course. The entire length is 110 or 120 miles. It empties into Cockburn Bay, on the eastern shore of Back's River. Lieutenant Schwatka named it Hayes River, in honor of the President. On the 11th of May we killed seven reindeer, and on the 13th nine. The country seems to be filled with game, and nearly every day we saw two or three large herds. Our dogs get well fed, and are really in finer condition than when we left Camp Daly. We had the misfortune to lose one of our best dogs, Toekelegeto, Toolooah's leader, on the night of the 13th, who choked to death with a piece of bone in his throat. He had eaten a piece of the shoulder-blade of the reindeer, which is thin and breaks into fine splinters. The Inuits usually hide this bone in the snow, as they say such accidents are frequent, especially when the dogs eat rapidly, as they always do when there is a number together.
[Illustration: THE SOURCES OF THE HAYES RIVER.]
The northern shore of the river is here bounded by high hills—in fact, almost a mountain range, and as I walked along the crest on the 14th, the sleds moving along the river at my feet looked like toys. Inland I could see the rocky hills piled together, barren and forbidding, and I could not help feeling grateful that we had found so good a road out of this country, for it would have been next to impossible to have crossed these ridges with our heavy sledges. About noon we came upon a freshly cut block of snow turned up on end, an unmistakable indication that natives had been there within two or three days, and a little farther on fresh footprints in the snow led us to a cache of musk-ox meat, and near by a deserted igloo. Equeesik knew by these signs that we were in the Ooqueesik-Sillik country, and as the natives never go far from Back's River, or the Ooqueesik-Sillik, as is the Esquimau name, this was joyful news and we were all excitement at the prospect of speedily meeting the natives. We followed the tracks upon the ice, and could see that they had used dogs to drag a musk-ox skin for a sled. This is a usual mode of travel with these people, who have very little wood with which to make sledges. Their supply consists entirely of drift-wood, with the exception of the material they obtained from the small boats of the 'Erebus' and 'Terror', two of which were found on Adelaide Peninsula and two on King William Land.
[Map: THE LOWER PORTION OF BACK'S OR GREAT FISH RIVER.]
We left camp at half-past seven in the morning of the 15th, a sharp wind blowing in our faces. We had not gone far when the dogs began to prick up their ears, and finally started off on a brisk run, barking and manifesting great excitement. The Inuits at once attributed this unwonted energy on the part of the dogs to the fact that there were people not far distant, and, sure enough, we soon saw several igloos about three-quarters of a mile ahead, with poles sticking in the snow around them—an evidence that they were inhabited. The sleds were now halted, and preparations made to open communication with the strangers. The Inuits of our party, especially Ishnark and Joe, were very much frightened, and said the people we were about to meet were as warlike as the Netchilliks, and always wanted to fight when they met strangers. They were somewhat reassured when their attention was called to the immense advantage we had over them with our breech-loaders and magazine guns against their bows and spears. In accordance with the custom of the country, the Inuits armed themselves with snow-knives and spears, while the white men carried their rifles or revolvers. All the men and boys then advanced toward the igloos, but not a soul was to be seen. Two or three dogs ran out and barked and then ran to where the sleds were halted, the women and children cowering down behind them. When within about three hundred yards of the camp our party halted, while Equeesik and Ishnark went a few paces further and began shouting something, which I afterward learned was Equeesik's name, with which they were acquainted, and announcing the fact that there were white men with our party. Presently one man crawled timidly out of the doorway of an igloo and asked a question, which must have been satisfactorily answered, for others soon followed and arranged themselves alongside of him; then all of them shouted an invitation to advance, whereupon we approached, and conversation between the Inuits became general. We were objects of great curiosity to the strangers, most of whom now saw white men for the first time. It seems that when they first saw us they thought we were Netchilliks, and were in consequence very much frightened, so that while some of our people were dreading an encounter, these poor creatures were shaking in their shoes and afraid to come out of their igloos. They all carried knives in their hands, but as weapons they might as well have carried nothing. Most of them were bits of hoop-iron or copper, worked down to a blade, and fastened upon long handles of reindeer horn.
[Illustration: MEETING WITH THE OOKJOOLIKS.]
There were in the party nine men, nearly all belonging to the immediate family of an old man, who acted as spokesman. He said he was an Ookjoolik, but he and others had been driven from their country by their more numerous and warlike neighbors the Netchilliks. His family comprised nearly all that was left of the tribe which formerly occupied the western coast of Adelaide Peninsula and King William Land. We concluded to encamp with them, and get what information we could from them concerning our mate and the Franklin ships. We were fortunate in finding the old man, an interesting and important witness. "Esquimau Joe," Ishnark, and Equeesik acted as interpreters, and through them we learned that these people were in great distress for food. The musk-ox we saw cached was all the meat they had in hand, or had had for a long time. An old man of their tribe had starved to death about a month before our arrival. We gave them some reindeer meat, of which we fortunately had plenty on the sleds, and told them where they would find the carcass of a reindeer that one of our party had killed the day before and left on the field because the sleds were too far off to wait for it. Their clothing was in a dilapidated condition, though originally well made, and instead of reindeer gloves and shoes, they wore articles made of musk-ox skin, which had a most extraordinary effect. The hair of the musk-ox is several inches long, and it looked as if they had an old-fashioned muff on each hand. They were very good natured and friendly, however, and helped to build our igloos and make them comfortable. We obtained from them a few trifling relics of the 'Erebus' and 'Terror', in exchange for knives and needles, which made them happy. It seemed strange to me that they should be hungry in a country swarming with reindeer, but our people explained to me that in winter it is almost impossible to get near enough to reindeer; to kill them with arrows, which are their only weapons. In summer they kill a few reindeer from their kyacks, or skin canoes, while crossing the big lakes on their migrations. The Netchilliks also kill a few reindeer in this way. In the summer and fall these people catch great quantities of salmon and cow-e-sil-lik, a species of fish peculiar to this country, and in the neighboring hills kill a few musk-oxen. Their main dependence, however, is upon fish from Back's and Harris's rivers.
From Ikinnelikpatolok, the old Ookjoolik, we learned at the interview that he had only once seen white men alive. That was when he was a little boy. He is now about sixty-five or seventy. He was fishing on Back's River when they came along in a boat and shook hands with him. There were ten men. The leader was called "Tos-ard-e-roak," which Joe says, from the sound, he thinks means Lieutenant Back. The next white man he saw was dead in a bunk of a big ship which was frozen in the ice near an island about five miles due west of Grant Point, on Adelaide Peninsula. They had to walk out about three miles on smooth ice to reach the ship. He said that his son, who was present, a man about thirty-five years old, was then about like a child he pointed out—probably seven or eight years old. About this time he saw the tracks of white men on the main-land. When he first saw them there were four, and afterward only three. This was when the spring snows were falling. When his people saw the ship so long without any one around, they used to go on board and steal pieces of wood and iron. They did not know how to get inside by the doors, and cut a hole in the side of the ship, on a level with the ice, so that when the ice broke up during the following summer the ship filled and sunk. No tracks were seen in the salt-water ice or on the ship, which also was covered with snow, but they saw scrapings and sweepings alongside, which seemed to have been brushed off by people who had been living on board. They found some red cans of fresh meat, with plenty of what looked like tallow mixed with it. A great many had been opened, and four were still unopened. They saw no bread. They found plenty of knives, forks, spoons, pans, cups, and plates on board, and afterward found a few such things on shore after the vessel had gone down. They also saw books on board, and left them there. They only took knives, forks, spoons, and pans; the other things they had no use for. He never saw or heard of the white men's cairn on Adelaide Peninsula.
Peowat, son-in-law of the previous witness, a man about forty, said that when about fourteen or fifteen years old he saw two boats come down Back's River. One had eight men in it, and the other he did not notice how many. He afterward saw a stone monument on Montreal Island, which, when he opened it, was found to contain a pocket-knife, a pair of scissors, and some fish-hooks, which he took away. He saw no papers anywhere about it.
We remained in this camp two days and a half, and before we left engaged a young man named Narleyow to accompany us as guide and seal hunter. His wife, Innokpizookzook, and their child, a little girl about three years old, also went with us. Our new hunter was given a gun and ammunition, and placed in the care of Equeesik to instruct in the use of fire-arms. I noticed that these people have slightly fairer complexions than the natives of Hudson's Bay, and the women are somewhat more elaborately tattooed, despite which they are quite comely. The children are all remarkably pretty, but the men have a ghastly look from wearing wooden goggles to guard against snow blindness, which makes the skin around the eyes, where protected by the goggles, several shades lighter than the rest of their face.
We reached Back's River in four more marches, two of which were on the Hayes River, and two on land, crossing from the great bend to avoid the detour that otherwise we would be compelled to make. We were compelled to remain in camp one day, while on the land, on account of a severe storm. The day we reached Back's River was also one of the most disagreeable days we marched, and it was a joyful sight to us, after nearly two months' travelling over an entirely unknown country, to find ourselves within easy reach of our destination. It seemed as if nothing now could prevent the accomplishment of our desire. As long as we were dependent upon the snow the prospect was growing more and more dubious; but with the salt-water ice beneath us, we felt assured of reaching our destination in due season. We remained one day at Montreal Island, to look for the remains of the cairn spoken of by Peowat, but every trace of it had been removed, as he said.
[Illustration: THE NETCHILLIK AMBASSADRESS.]
The day we left Montreal Island two seals were killed, which were the first since leaving Hudson's Bay. We found the distance from the north-east end of the island much less than mapped, and went into camp well up the coast, after killing three reindeer. We again took the land, crossing the Oyle Point and Richardson Point peninsulas, which we found much wider than mapped. In an inlet west of Richardson Point, or "Nu-oo-tar-ro," as it is known by the natives, we ran into the first of the Netchillik encampments, on the last day of May. The ceremony of opening communication was similar to that with the Ooquee-sik-silliks a few days before, with the exception that instead of remaining in their igloos the men were drawn up in line of battle in front of them, and sent out an old woman to find out who we were and what we wanted. If our designs had been hostile, and we had killed the old woman, their fighting strength would not have been reduced, and it would only have been one less old woman to care for. They carried their bows in their hands, with arrows fixed to the strings; but when the old woman shouted back that we were white men, they laid aside their arms and received us in a friendly manner, striking their breasts and saying, "Many-tu-me," though Joe afterward told me that one of the men wanted a fight anyhow. They have a custom of killing the first stranger who comes among them after a death in the tribe, and as we filled that requirement, it seems he wanted to carry out the custom. At Equeesik's suggestion a gun had been discharged in the air as we approached, and it is probable that the knowledge that we were better armed than they had some effect in securing peace. They acted in quite a friendly manner after we came among them, and Lieutenant Schwatka and I visited all their igloos, leaving needles, thimbles, spoons, knives, and fish-hooks with them in exchange for a few unimportant Franklin relics. The next day we interviewed an old man named Seeuteetuar, who had seen a number of skeletons near the water line in an inlet about three or four miles west from the present camp. He had also seen books and papers scattered around among the rocks along the shore and back from the beach. There were also knives, forks and spoons, dishes and cans. There was no sled there, but there was a boat, which was afterward broken up and taken away by the natives, with which to manufacture wooden implements. He was shown a watch, and said he saw several like it lying around, which were also taken and broken up by the children. Some were silver and some gold. He said the bones were still there, unless carried off by foxes and wolves. He had never seen or heard of a cairn erected by white men along the coast on this side of Simpson Strait, and had never heard of any other traces of white men here. It was a long time since he had been there, but he could show us the spot.
Toolooah, another Netchillik, about forty-five years old, had also been at the boat place, but after nearly everything had been removed. He had, however, seen traces of white men in the Ookjoolik country, on the western coast of Adelaide Peninsula, and as late as last summer had picked up pieces of bottles, iron, wood and tin cans on an island off Grant Point. Ookjoolik natives had pointed out this island as a place near which a ship had been sunk many years ago. A map was shown to him, and he pointed to a spot about eight miles due west of Grant Point as the place where the ship went down. Ooping, an Ookjoolik Inuit, who lived near the mouth of a big inlet that extends nearly across Adelaide Peninsula, from the head of Wilmot Bay, was the last Esquimau who had gone over the west coast of King William Land. This was two years ago. He had seen traces of white men near Cape Jane Franklin and along the coast of Cape Felix. This inlet, spoken of by Toolooah, seemed of sufficient importance to deserve surveying, and Lieutenant Schwatka decided to include it in the search of the Ookjoolik country.
The sun exerted sufficient power during the middle of the day to bring our igloo down; but we had finished our interviewing and were ready to visit the cove where the boat and skeletons had been found. One light sled, with plenty of dogs, took us over, with Seeuteetuar and Toolooah as guides, and our Toolooah as driver. We found the place about three miles from camp, and, though the ground was nearly all covered with snow, and nothing whatever distinguished it from the coast on either side, we could not but be impressed by the mournful interest with which the sad fate of the lost explorers invested it. To our minds there seemed little doubt but that this was the farthest point in the direction of Hudson's Bay that any of them had reached. The party was a small one, and had, probably, been sifted down to the few hardiest men, whose anticipation of rescue from the horrible death that awaited them had not faltered under all their terrible sufferings while they had the continent in view. It probably seemed that if they could only reach the mainland they would be comparatively safe. But even the bravest hearts must have sunk—and that there were many brave hearts among them cannot be doubted, when the awful desolation of this country forced itself upon them. No more powerful picture of utter abandonment could possibly be devised than this. The land low and barren, so low, indeed, as to be scarcely distinguished from the sea, as both lay covered with their mantle of snow. Neither tree nor sprout, and scarcely a hill visible—nothing whatever to relieve the crushing monotony of the scene—no living thing to be seen anywhere, though the eye had uninterrupted range over so vast a territory. Even a wolf prowling around would have been a relief in the utter loneliness that oppressed them. All this presented itself to our minds as we looked around but saw no traces of the lost ones. Had we known at this time what we learned a few days later, the place would have had an additional interest as the spot where the records of the expedition, which had been brought thus far with infinite toil and care, had been irrecoverably lost. We marked the spot carefully, for a thorough search when the snow was off the ground, and returned to camp. Our guides informed us that the boat was found upside down on the beach, and all the skeletons beneath it. They did not remember the exact number, but thought there were about five or more.
[Illustration: THE COUNCIL WITH THE NETCHILLIKS.]
That night Equeesik learned from two natives who came in late that his sister was with another portion of the tribe near Richardson Point, and went there with his sled, returning the next day but one with several families, including an old woman whom we found to be another important and interesting witness. She was one of a party who met some of the survivors of the ill-fated ships on Washington Bay. Since then she had seen no white man until now. Her name was Ahlangyah, a Netchillik, about fifty-five years of age. She had a fine intelligent face, and a quantity of jet black hair, slightly tinged with gray, that had probably never been annoyed by any efforts at arrangement, and hung down over her shoulders or straggled over her face without reserve or molestation. I succeeded during the interview in getting a very characteristic portrait of her, the authenticity of which was subsequently attested when I had forgotten her name and her friends at once identified her by the portrait. It is but fair to state that we have reason to put great faith in the statements of these people, as truthfulness seems to be an inherent quality with them. They never attempted to deceive us in regard to relics, though perhaps it would seem easy and profitable. In many instances what appeared to us to be interesting relics they told us came from the natives of Repulse Bay and elsewhere.
Ahlangyah pointed out the eastern coast of Washington Bay as the spot where she, in company with her husband, and two other men with their wives, had seen ten white men dragging a sledge with a boat on it many years ago. There was another Inuit with them who did not go near the white men. The sledge was on the ice, and a wide crack separated them from the white men at the interview. The women went on shore, and the men awaited the white people at the crack on the ice. Five of the white men put up a tent on the shore, and five remained with the boat on the ice. The Inuits put up a tent not far from the white men, and they stayed together here five days. During this time the Inuits killed a number of seals on the ice and gave them to the white men. They gave her husband a chopping-knife. He was the one who had the most intercourse with the white crew. The knife is now lost, or broken and worn out. She has not seen it for a long time. At the end of five days they all started for Adelaide Peninsula, fearing that the ice, which was very rotten, might not let them across. They started at night, because then, the sun being low, the ice would be a little frozen. The white men followed, dragging their heavy sledge and boat, and could not cross the rotten ice as fast as the Inuits, who halted and waited for them at Gladman's Point. The Inuits could not cross to the mainland, the ice was too rotten, and they remained in King William Land all summer. They never saw the white men again, though they waited at Gladman's Point fishing in the neighboring lakes, going back and forth between the shore and lakes nearly all summer, and then went to the eastern shore near Matty Island.
Some of the white men were very thin, and their mouths were dry and hard and black. They had no fur clothing on. When asked if she remembered by what names the white men were called, she said one of them was called "Agloocar," and another "Toolooah." The latter seemed to be the chief, and it was he who gave the chopping-knife to her husband. (Agloocar and Toolooah are both common Esquimau names, and it is probable the names she heard the white men call resembled these in sound, and thus impressed themselves upon her mind.) Another one was called "Dok-took" (Doctor). "Toolooah" was a little older than the others, and had a large black beard, mixed with gray. He was bigger than any of the others—"a big, broad man." "Agloocar" was smaller, and had a brown beard about four or five inches below his chin (motioning with her hand). "Dok-took" was a short man, with a big stomach and red beard, about the same length as "Agloocar's." All three wore spectacles, not snow goggles, but, as the interpreters said, all the same seko (ice).
The following spring, when there was little snow on the ground, she saw a tent standing on the shore at the head of Terror Bay. There were dead bodies in the tent, and outside were some covered over with sand. There was no flesh on them—nothing but the bones and clothes. There were a great many; she had forgotten how many. Indeed, Inuits have little idea of numbers beyond "ten." She saw nothing to indicate any of the party she met before. The bones had the chords or sinews still attached to them. One of the bodies had the flesh on, but this one's stomach was gone. There were one or two graves outside. They did not open the graves at this time; saw a great many things lying around. There were knives, forks, spoons, watches, many books, clothing, blankets, and such things. The books were not taken notice of. This was the same party of Esquimaux who had met the white men the year before, and they were the first who saw the tent and graves. They had been in King William Land ever since they saw the white men until they found the tent place.
Such was the statement of Ahlangyah the Netchillik. When she had finished it we gave her some needles, spoons, a tin pan, and other articles that well repaid her for the trouble she had taken to reach us. Here was a woman who had actually seen the poor, starving explorers, and her story was replete with interest for us. Every word she uttered seemed fraught with the dread tragedy, and she appeared to share our interest, for her face was full of expression. At times it was saddened with the recital of the piteous condition of the white men, and tears filled her eyes as she recalled the sad scene at the tent place where so many had perished, and their bodies become food for wild beasts. It would seem, from what she related to-day, that the party which perished in the inlet we visited yesterday, was part of the same that Ahlangyah met on King William Land. She and her friends could not get across Simpson Strait, while the white men kept on over the rotten ice, probably at last compelled to take to their boat, and then, at the mercy of the wind and ice, after losing others of their number near Pfeffer River and Todd Islands, had drifted into the inlet where the dead bodies were found with the boat. How long it took them to reach this place will probably never be known, but there is little doubt that they were in a desperate condition. In fact, as we subsequently learned from other witnesses, there were almost unmistakable evidences of their being compelled to resort to cannibalism, until at last they absolutely starved to death at this point—at least all but one, whose remains were found, during the summer after our visit here, about five miles further inland.
We secured one valuable relic here, in the sled seen by Sir Leopold McClintock, in Erebus Bay, which at that time had upon it a boat, with several skeletons inside. Since the sled came into the hands of the Inuits it has been cut down several times. It was originally seven feet longer than at present, the runners about two inches higher and twice as far apart. But even in its present state it is an exceedingly interesting memento. We have carefully preserved it in the condition in which it has been in constant use by the Esquimaux for many years. We met other portions of this tribe at intervals of from six to ten miles along this coast, until we reached Seaforth Point, where we crossed to King William Land, and left them behind until our return in the following September.
Meanwhile we were pushing steadily onward. We were beginning to get used to the phenomena of the Arctic, not the least among which is the "midnight sun." It is difficult for one who has not witnessed it himself to understand the meaning of this portent. The idea of the long Arctic night seems to be much more generally comprehended. Nearly all writers upon the subject, whether those who have themselves experienced its effects, or those whose knowledge is derived from study, dwell with great force on the terribly depressing effect upon the physical organization of natives of the median zones caused by the long Arctic night whenever brought within its influence. Though much less has been written or said concerning the interminable day, its effects are almost as deleterious upon the stranger as the prolonged night. Indeed, to the sojourner in high latitudes the day is much more appreciable, for at no point yet visited by man is the darkness the total darkness of night throughout the entire day, while the "midnight sun" makes the night like noon-day. Even when the sun passes below the horizon at its upper culmination, the daylight is as intense as at noon in lower latitudes when the sun's disk is obscured by thin clouds. The long twilight in the north, where the sun's apparent path around the earth varies so little in altitude at its upper and lower culminations, takes some of the edge off of the prolonged night at the highest latitude ever attained by the Arctic explorer; but there is nothing to relieve the "long, long, weary day" of its full power upon the system.
In this latitude the sun goes down at night, and we retire to our couches and sleep. In the morning the sun returns, and we arise to the pursuit of our various daily avocations. But there, in the spring, the sun never sets. There is no morning and no night. It is one continuous day for months. At first it seems very difficult to understand this strange thing in nature. One never knows when to sleep. The world seems to be entirely wrong, and man grows nervous and restless. Sleep is driven from his weary eyelids, his appetite fails, and all the disagreeable results of protracted vigils are apparent. But gradually he becomes used to this state of affairs, devises means to darken his tent, and once more enjoys his hour of rest. In fact, he learns how to take advantage of the new arrangement, and when travelling pursues his journey at night, or when the sun is lowest, because then he finds the frost that hardens the snow a great assistance in sledging.
The sun's rays then, falling more obliquely, are less powerful, and he avoids somewhat the evils that beset his pathway at noontime. He is not so much exposed to sunburn or to snow-blindness. It may sound strangely to speak of sunburn in the frigid zone, but perhaps nowhere on the earth is the traveller more annoyed by that great ill. The heat of ordinary exercise compels him to throw back the hood of his fur coat, that the cool evenings and mornings preclude his discarding, and not only his entire face becomes blistered, but especially—if he is fashionable enough to wear his hair thin upon the top of his head—his entire scalp is affected about as severely as if a bucket of scalding water had been poured over his head. This is not an exaggeration. At a later period than that of which I am writing, Lieutenant Schwatka's entire party, while upon a sledge journey from Marble Island to Camp Daly, were so severely burned that not only their faces but their entire heads were swollen to nearly twice their natural size. And a fine-looking party they were. Some had their faces so swollen that their eyes were completely closed upon awakening from sleep. When one could see the others he could not refrain from laughing, so ludicrous was the spectacle. All dignity was lost. Even the august commander of the party was a laughing-stock, and though he knew why they laughed at each other, he could not understand why he should excite such mirth until he saw his face in a mirror. Then, when he tried to smile, his lips were so thoroughly swollen that the effect was entirely lost, and it was impossible to tell whether his expression denoted amusement, anger, or pain. The torture resulting from these burns was so severe that it was almost impossible to sleep. The fur bedding, which also served the purpose of a pillow, irritated the burns like applying a mustard-plaster to a blister. Then it was that the night was turned into day for the rest of the journey, and during the heat of the day the party were comparatively comfortable in the shelter of their tent. Straw-hats would have been the proper style of head-dress, but they had been omitted from the outfit, as was also another very important source of comfort, mosquito nettings. It is in the summer, however, that the necessity for the latter luxury is encountered.
While the sun's rays pour down with all their force upon the devoted head of the traveller the reflection from the snow is almost as intense and still more disagreeable, for there is no possible escape from it. Not satisfied with producing its share of sunburn, it acts upon the eyes in a manner that produces that terrible scourge of the Arctic spring—snow-blindness. It is a curious fact that persons who are near-sighted are generally exempt from the evils of snow-blindness, while it appears to be more malignant with those who are far-sighted in direct ratio to the superior quality of their vision. Lieutenant Schwatka and his companion, the present writer, are both near-sighted, and during the two seasons that they were exposed to the disease neither were at any time affected by snow-blindness; while the other members of the party, and especially the natives, who have most powerful visual organs, were almost constantly martyrs to the disease whenever exposed to its attacks.
It seems the only method of guarding against it is to wear what we called snow-goggles all the time one is out of doors. The natives use those of home manufacture—that is, a piece of wood with a notch to fit over the bridge of the nose, and a narrow, horizontal slit opposite each eye. This rude spectacle, called by them igearktoo, is made to fit close to the eyes, and is held in place by strings passing behind and over the top of the head. It serves to shelter the eyes from the direct and reflected rays of the sun, but also interrupts the vision so much that they habitually push it up on top of their heads, and run a risk which almost invariably results to their disadvantage, yet their goggles are so unsatisfactory that no amount of adverse experience is sufficient to serve as a warning to them. The civilized visitors among them wear goggles of various patterns and degrees of excellence. Some are made of differently colored glass, from the various shades of smoked glass to blue and green of varying degrees of opacity; some are of glass surrounded with wire gauze; others of wire gauze without the glass, and some are merely a strip of bunting hanging from the peak of the cap. Of all the various kinds the general experience seems to be in favor of the wire gauze without glass. They interfere very little with the vision, and yet furnish a perfect protection for the eyes. Glass of any pattern or shade subjects the wearer to constant annoyance by fogging from the breath, which congeals very rapidly upon the surface of the glass, and apparently always at the most inconvenient time, as when the hunter is stalking a deer by crawling a long distance upon his hands and knees, and just as he raises his rifle for a shot his goggles are like pieces of ground glass. The native spectacles give such a limited field of vision that it is impossible to use them in hunting; but the wire-gauze seems to be free from all these objections. A well-supplied expedition is provided with every kind of snow-goggles, as they are absolutely essential to the well being of the party. The superiority of the wire-gauze pattern seemed to have been appreciated by the Franklin expedition, for many of them were subsequently found at the various burial-places and at other points where relics were obtained. It is also said that painting around the eyes upon the upper and lower lids with burned cork or some dark pigment is a protection against snow-blindness; but it is doubtful if this method has been sufficiently tested to admit of its being relied upon. The symptoms of snow-blindness are inflammation of the inner coating of the lids, accompanied by intense pain and impairment of the vision, so as to disable the sufferer from the performance of his duties. A wash of diluted tincture of opium is probably the best remedy, and gives almost immediate relief. The patient should remain within doors for two or three days, by which time he will usually be sufficiently cured to resume his out-door labors.
It might be supposed that in the utter barrenness of the Arctic landscape, flowers never grew there. This would be a great mistake. The dweller in that desolate region, after passing a long, weary winter, with nothing for the eye to rest upon but the vast expanse of snow and ice, is in a condition to appreciate, beyond the ability of an inhabitant of warmer climes, the little flowerets that peep up almost through the snow when the spring sunlight begins to exercise its power upon the white mantle of the earth. In little patches here and there, where the dark-colored moss absorbs the warm rays of the sun, and the snow is melted from its surface, the most delicate flowers spring up at once to gladden the eye of the weary traveller. It needs not the technical skill of the botanist to admire these lovely tokens of approaching summer. Thoughts of home, in a warmer and more hospitable climate, fill his heart with joy and longing, as meadows filled with daisies and buttercups spread out before him, while he stands upon the crest of a granite hill that knows no footstep other than the tread of the stately musk-ox or the antlered reindeer, as they pass in single file upon their frequent journeys, and whose caverns echo to no sound save the howling of the wolves or the discordant cawing of the raven. He is a boy again, and involuntarily plucks the feathery dandelion, and seeks the time of day by blowing the puffy fringe from its stem, or tests the faith of the fair one, who is dearer to him than ever in this hour of separation, by picking the leaves from the yellow-hearted daisy. Tiny little violets, set in a background of black or dark green moss, adorn the hill-sides, and many flowers unknown to warmer zones come bravely forth to flourish for a few weeks only, and wither in the August winds. Very few of the flowers, so refreshing and charming to the eye, have any perfume. Nearly all smell of the dank moss that forms their bed.
As soon as the snow leaves the ground, the hill-sides in many localities are covered with the vine that bears a small black berry (called by the natives parwong,) in appearance, though not in flavor, like the huckleberry. It has a pungent spicy tartness that is very acceptable after a long diet of meat alone, and the natives, when they find these vines, stop every other pursuit for the blissful moments of cramming their stomachs with the fruit. This is kept up, if the crop only lasts long enough until they have made themselves thoroughly sick by their hoggishness. But the craving for some sort of vegetable diet is irresistible, and with true Inuit improvidence they indulge it, careless of consequences. Fortunate for them is it that their summer, is a short one, and the parwong not abundant, or cholera might be added to the other dangers of Arctic residence. But the days of the buttercup and the daisy, and of the butterfly and the mosquito are few. With the winter comes the all-pervading snow, and the keen, bracing north-west wind, the rosy cheek and the frozen nose; but with it also comes rugged health and a steady diet of walrus meat.