CHAPTER XVIII.

PROLONGED ABSENCE OF MR. SONNTAG.—PREPARING TO LOOK FOR HIM.—ARRIVAL OF ESQUIMAUX.—THEY REPORT SONNTAG DEAD.—ARRIVAL OF HANS.—CONDITION OF THE DOGS.—HANS'S STORY OF THE JOURNEY.

A full month had now elapsed since Sonntag and Hans left us, and several days of the January moonlight having passed over without bringing them back, I had some cause for alarm. It was evident that they had either met with an accident, or were detained among the Esquimaux in some unaccountable manner. I therefore began to devise means for determining what had become of them. First, I sent Mr. Dodge down to Cape Alexander to pursue the trail and ascertain whether they had gone around or over the cape. The sledge-track was followed for about five miles, when it came suddenly to an end, the ice having broken up and drifted away since December. Dodge could now only examine the passes of the glacier; and finding there no tracks, it was evident that the party had gone outside.

My next concern was to determine whether the tracks reappeared on the firm ice south of the cape; and accordingly I prepared to start with a small foot party, and cross over the glacier. In the event of finding tracks below Cape Alexander, my course would then be governed by circumstances; but if the track should not appear, it would be conclusive evidence that the party was lost, and I would proceedsouth until I reached the Esquimaux, for I could no longer afford to delay communication with them. Although the temperature had now fallen to 43° below zero, yet the careful preparations which I had made for camping relieved the journey from any risks on that account. The mercury froze for the first time during the winter while Dodge was absent, and I was extravagant enough to mould a bullet of it and send it from my rifle through a thick plank. Dodge, who was one of my most hardy men, returned from his twelve hours' tramp complaining that he had suffered rather from heat than cold, and he declared that, when called upon another time to wade so far through snow-drifts and hummocks, he would not carry so heavy a load of furs. In truth, both he and his two companions came in perspiring freely under their buffalo-skin coats.

ARRIVAL OF ESQUIMAUX.

My projected journey was, however, destined not to come off. The sledge was loaded with our light cargo, and we were ready to set out on the morning of the 27th, but a gale sprung up suddenly and detained us on board during that and the following day. Early in the morning of the 29th, the wind having fallen to calm, we were preparing to start. The men were putting on their furs, and I was in my cabin giving some last instructions to Mr. McCormick, when Carl, who had the watch on deck, came hastily to my door to report "Two Esquimaux alongside." They had come upon us out of the darkness very suddenly and unobserved.

SONNTAG'S DEATH REPORTED.

Conjecturing that these people would hardly have visited us without having first fallen in with Sonntag and Hans, I at once sent the interpreter to interrogate them. He came back in a few minutes. I inquiredeagerly if they brought news of Mr. Sonntag. "Yes." I had no need to inquire further. Jensen's face told too plainly the terrible truth,—Sonntag was dead!

I sent Jensen back to see that the wants of our savage visitors were carefully provided for, and to question them further. They proved to be two of my old acquaintances,—Ootinah, to whom I was under obligations for important services in 1854, and a sprightly fellow, who, having had his leg crushed by a falling stone, had since hobbled about on a wooden one supplied to him, in 1850, by the surgeon of theNorth Star, and which I had once repaired for him. They both came on one sledge, drawn by five dogs, and had traveled all the way through from a village, on the south side of Whale Sound, called Iteplik, without a halt. They had faced a wind part of the way, and were covered from head to foot with snow and frost. Their wants were soon bountifully supplied, and they were not slow in communicating the information which most interested me. From them I learned that Hans was on his way to the vessel with his wife's father and mother. Some of his dogs had died, and he was traveling in slow and easy stages. There being no longer any occasion for my southern journey, the preparations therefor were discontinued.

HANS'S STORY.

Hans arrived two days afterward, and, much to our surprise, he was accompanied only by his wife's brother, a lad whom I had seen some months before at Cape York; but the cause of this was soon explained. His wife's father and mother, as Ootinah informed me, had journeyed with him, but they, as well as the dogs, had broken down, and were left behind, near the glacier, and Hans had come on forassistance. A party was at once dispatched to bring them in. Hans being cold and fatigued, I refrained for the time from questioning him, and sent the weather-beaten travelers to get warmed and fed.

The two old people were found coiled up in a cave dug in a snow-bank, and were shivering with the cold. The dogs were huddled together near by, and not one of them would stir a step, so both the animals and the Esquimaux were bundled in a heap upon our large ice-sledge, and dragged to the vessel. The Esquimaux were soon revived by the warmth and good cheer of Hans's tent, while the dogs, only five in number, lay stretched out on the deck in an almost lifeless condition. They could neither eat nor move. And this was the remnant of my once superb pack of thirty-six, and this the result of a journey from which I had hoped so much! There was a mystery somewhere. What could it all mean? I quote from my diary:—

February 1st.

Hans has given me the story of his journey, and I sit down to record it with very painful emotions.

The travelers rounded Cape Alexander without difficulty, finding the ice solid; and they did not halt until they had reached Sutherland Island, where they built a snow-hut and rested for a few hours. Continuing thence down the coast, they sought the Esquimaux at Sorfalik without success. The native hut at that place being in ruins, they made for their shelter another house of snow; and, after being well rested, they set out directly for Northumberland Island, having concluded that it was useless to seek longer for natives on the north side of the Sound. They had proceeded on their course about four or five miles, as nearly asI can judge from Hans's description, when Sonntag, growing a little chilled, sprang off the sledge and ran ahead of the dogs to warm himself with the exercise. The tangling of a trace obliging Hans to halt the team for a few minutes, he fell some distance behind, and was hurrying on to catch up, when he suddenly observed Sonntag sinking. He had come upon the thin ice, covering a recently open tide-crack, and, probably not observing his footing, he stepped upon it unawares. Hans hastened to his rescue, and aided him out of the water, and then turned back for the shelter which they had recently abandoned. A light wind was blowing at the time from the northeast, and this, according to Hans, caused Sonntag to seek the hut without stopping to change his wet clothing. At first he ran beside the sledge, and thus guarded against danger; but after a while he rode, and when they halted at Sorfalik, Hans discovered that his companion was stiff and speechless. Assisting him into the hut with all possible despatch, Hans states that he removed the wet and frozen clothing, and placed Sonntag in the sleeping-bag. He next gave him some brandy which he found in a flask on the sledge; and, having tightly closed the hut, he lighted the alcohol lamp, for the double purpose of elevating the temperature and making some coffee; but all of his efforts were unavailing, and, after remaining for nearly a day unconscious, Sonntag died. He did not speak after reaching the hut, and left no message of any kind.

After closing up the mouth of the hut, so that the body might not be disturbed by the bears or foxes, Hans again set out southward, and reached Northumberland Island without inconvenience. Much to hisdisappointment, he found that the natives had recently abandoned the village at that place; but he obtained a comfortable sleep in a deserted hut, and under a pile of stones he found enough walrus flesh to give his dogs a hearty meal. The next day's journey brought him to Netlik, which place was also deserted; and he continued on up the Sound some twenty miles further to Iteplik, where he was fortunate enough to find several families residing, some in the native stone hut and others in huts of snow. Whale Sound being: a favorite winter resort of the seal, the people had congregated there for the time, and were living in the midst of abundance. Hans told his story, and, delighted to hear of our being near their old village of Etah, Ootinah and he of the wooden leg put their two teams together and resolved to accompany Hans when he set out to return.

Meanwhile, however, my hunter had other projects. He was only three days from the vessel, and had he come back at once the chief purpose of the journey would still have been accomplished; but instead of doing this, he gave large rewards to two Esquimaux boys to go with his team down to Cape York. The stock of presents which Sonntag had taken for the Esquimaux all now fell to Hans, and he did not spare them. And he vows that his disposition of the property and the team was made in my interest. "You want the Esquimaux to know you are here. I tell them. They will come by and by and bring plenty of dogs." Why did he not go himself to Cape York? He was too tired, and had, besides, a frosted toe which he got while attending upon Mr. Sonntag.

Notwithstanding all these protestations of devotionto my affairs, I strongly suspect, however, that certain commands were laid upon him by the partner of his tent and joys; and, if domestic secrets were not better kept than are some other kinds, I should probably discover that the journey to Cape York was made for the sole purpose of bringing up from that place the two old people who own Hans for a son-in-law. So even here under the Pole Star the daughters of Eve govern the destinies of men.

It was the old story of the borrowed horse over again. The journey was long and difficult; the dogs were over-driven and starved; and the party came back to Iteplik with only five dogs remaining of the nine with which they had set out. Four of them had broken down, and were left to die by the way.

February 2d.

Ootinah and his wooden-legged companion have left us, promising to return as soon as they have provided for their families. They carried away with them many valuable presents, and if these do not tempt their savage kindred to the ship, nothing will. They will tell the Esquimaux that I want dogs, and I have charged them to circulate the knowledge of the ample returns which I will make to the hunter who will loan or sell to me his team. But alas! dogs are scarce; most of the hunters have none to spare, and many of them are wholly destitute. I had not a bribe in the ship large enough to induce either of those who have left me to part with even one of their precious animals. Having discovered this, I could afford to be lavish with my presents, and these poor wanderers on the ice deserts probably left me quite as well off as if they had sold me their entire teams. They plead thehunt and their families, and these are strong arguments. Needles and knives, and iron and bits of wood, will not feed wives and babies, and a hundred and fifty miles is a long way to carry a child at the breast through the cold and storms of the Arctic night, even though it be to this haven of plenty. My charity was, however, intended to cover a double purpose,—to do them a substantial service, and to stimulate as well their cupidity as that of the tribe who are sure to flock around them at Iteplik, to inspect their riches. I must own, however, that my prospects for obtaining dogs do not look encouraging. But few of the Esquimaux are likely to come so far with their impoverished teams.

Hans sticks to the story of yesterday; and, after questioning and cross-questioning him for an hour, I get nothing new. Although I have no good reason for doubting the truth of his narrative, yet I cannot quite reconcile my mind to the fact that Sonntag, with so much experience to govern him, should have undertaken to travel five miles in wet clothing, especially as he was accompanied by a native hunter who was familiar with all of the expedients for safety upon the ice-fields, and to whom falling in the water is no unusual circumstance. The sledge and the canvas apron which inclosed the cargo furnished the means for constructing a temporary shelter from the wind, and the sleeping-bag would have insured against freezing while Hans got ready the dry clothing, of which Sonntag carried a complete change. Nor can I understand how he should have lived so long and have given Hans no message for me, nor have spoken a word after coming out of the water, further than to have ordered his driver to hasten back to the snow-hut.However, it is idle to speculate about the matter; and since Hans's interests were concerned in proving faithful to the officer who, of all those in the ship, cared most for him, it would be unreasonable as well as unjust to suspect him of desertion.

The Esquimau Hut at Etah

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