# Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 1/Chapter V

CHAPTER V.
Visited by the Natives—Brief Account of some of them—A very aged Woman—Oo-ki-jox-y Ni-noo—Ugarng and his thirteen Wives—Ebierbing and Tookoo-lito—Kudlago's Widow, Kok-er-jab-in—"Blind George"—Excursion on Shore—Anecdote of the Greenland Dogs—Beautiful Scenery—An Alabaster Cave—Arctic Food—First Taste of Bear-meat—A Blind Man threading a Needle and mending Clothes—Astonishment created by a Magnet—Author's narrow Escape from Death—Geological Character of the Rocks—Departure for and Arrival at Field Bay—A Cruise in the "Rescue"—Arrival in new Waters.
Previous to our anchoring, Captain Allen, Mates Lamb and Gardiner, joined us on deck, bringing with them an Esquimaux named Ugarng, and others of his people. Several women were also on board, dressed in the peculiar costume of the West Land natives; but not until we had dropped anchor could I do more than give a passing glance at these strange-looking figures. The excitement consequent upon arriving in a new place was naturally great on my mind. The land around me—its inhabitants, its rugged hills, its mountain tops covered with snow, all belonged to that especial part of the northern regions connected with the ultimate field of my labours. When, however, the vessel was made stationary, and the greatest excitement had abated, I could better examine our visitors, and never shall I forget the first impression they made upon me.
It has been said by a well-known witty writer, now deceased, when referring to the Esquimaux, in an arctic book he was reviewing, that they are "singular composite beings—a link between Saxons and seals—hybrids, putting the seals' bodies into their own, and then encasing their skins in the seals, thus walking to and fro, a compound formation. A transverse section would discover them to be stratified like a rolly-polly pudding, only, instead of jam and paste, if their ​layers were noted on a perpendicular scale, they would range after this fashion: first of all, seal—then biped—seal in the centre with biped—and seal again at the bottom. Yet, singular enough, these savages are cheerful, and really seem to have great capacity for enjoyment. Though in the coldest and most comfortless dens of the earth, they are ever on the grin, whatever befals them. When they see a white man and his knick-knacks, they grin. They grin when they rub their noses with snow, when they blow their fingers, when they lubricate their hides inside and out with the fat of the seal. Truly, then, as Sterne says, 'Providence, thou art merciful!'"
The above description must speak for itself; but, without endorsing more than its reference to the good-humour of the Esquimaux, I must say that, whatever they may be physically and socially, they are undoubtedly a kind-hearted, hospitable, and well-disposed race of beings. On my first meeting with them, at the time I am writing of, in Cornelius Grinnell Bay, I was much struck by their peculiar dress and good-natured features. The women especially attracted my attention, and I could not but think of old Grimes—"that good old man"—in his long-tailed coat. The difference, however, in the coats of these Esquimaux women and that of old Grimes is that they do not button down before. In truth, there is no button about these arctic coats. They have a long, neatly-worked flap behind, with a baby-pouch on the shoulders, and are slipped over the head like a frock. But a full description of their dress will be given in a chapter devoted entirely to the manners and customs of these singular people.
Among the visitors on board when we anchored were a few who will frequently figure in my narrative. Ugarng, who has been already named, was a very prominent character, and it seems to me well to give some account of him and his family, especially as the history of most all the Innuits I met is so full of strange adventure, and so indicative of their peculiar customs, that it cannot fail to be interesting. The particulars were gathered only at intervals long after my first acquaintance with the parties.
​At the time of which I write there lived in the neighbourhood of my explorations a very aged and singular woman called Oo-ki-jox-y Ni-noo. This patriarchal dame was born on an island named An-nan-ne-toon, situated on the north side of Hudson's Strait, and when I first saw her I believe she could not have been less than one hundred years old. She was an important personage among her people, and, as the reader will find, proved of much service to me from the knowledge she had of Innuit traditions.
Now this woman had been married to a man called Pier-koo-ne-me-loon, who had also, at the same time, a second wife, Poor-loong-wong, sister of Ookijoxy Ninoo. By the second wife he had three children, with whom we have nothing to do. But by the former he had eight sons and daughters, and at length died in a good old age, leaving his other wife to survive all her own children except the Ugarng already named.
The progeny of this old woman was as follows:
1st. A daughter, that died at its birth, owing to an accidental fall previously received by its mother while playing ball in the spring.
2d. A daughter, Tou-yer-nŭd-loon, who grew up to woman-hood, a large, strong woman. She married a Pim-ma-in, or chief, who was considered a very smart Innuit. After many years she had by him two children, and at the birth of the latter she died. The infant was then allowed to die, because, as was told me, "it was impossible to take care of it;" and two or three days afterward the husband also died. With regard to this woman, it was considered among the Innuits impossible to tell which looked oldest, her mother or herself.
3d. A daughter, called Noo-ker-pier-ung, who was born not far from Newton's Fiord, in Frobisher Bay. She married a man named Oo-yung, and these were the parents of E-bier-bing, a person who will often appear as a very important character in my narrative. The mother died about 1852.
4th. A son, New-wer-kier-ung, who married, first, a cousin of Ebierbing's wife, the intelligent Tookoolito, by which cousin ​he had a boy; secondly, a woman called E-ker-too-kong ("Polly," as we named her), by whom he had many children, who all grew very fast and fat, but died young. He died before his wife, and she then married a fine, bold, and—to white persons as well as his own people—most kindly disposed, humane man, christened by us "Bob"—his Innuit name, King-wat-che-ung. The wife was a half-sister to another good but afflicted man, called Pau-loo-yer, or, as I always styled him from his loss of sight, "Blind George." Of him I will speak presently.
The fifth child of the old woman was Ugarng, whom I shall bring forward in a moment.
The sixth was a daughter, An-ner-surng, who married Mik-e-lung. They had two or three children, but one of them, E-ter-loong, a little boy, cross-eyed, was almost always by his grandmother's side, and was evidently regarded by her as a pet.
The seventh child was also a daughter, Kood-loo-toon, who married a brother of one "Chummy" (a man that visited the States in 1861-2). By him she had two children; one died young, and the other is now living and married.
The eighth and last child was another daughter, Oo-yar-ou-ye-ung, who married and had two children, a boy and girl. The latter was named Oo-kood-lear, and I was well acquainted with her.
These were the children and grandchildren of old Oo-ki-jox-y Ninoo. Now let me turn to the account of Ugarng.
This man was born at or near Newton's Fiord, in Frobisher Bay, and was about 50 or 55 years old. From his early days he displayed great qualities as a daring and successful hunter. Many of his well-attested exploits border on the incredible, so marvellous did they seem. Not a few, possibly, I shall be able to relate farther on. Perhaps, however, not among the least of them may be considered the fact that he had had no less than thirteen wives; and, at the period I formed his acquaintance, had three living with him. His first wife, Ak-chur-c-you, he left, long before she died, because she bore him no ​children; his second, Oo-soo-kong, gave him a son and daughter; both, with herself, dead. The third wife was alive, but left at Padley. Afterward she had two children by another man. The fourth also had two children by another man; the fifth hung herself after giving him a daughter, now 14 years old. The sixth—still alive, and related to Tookoolito—had no children; the seventh was Kun-ni-u, whom I shall frequently name. She likewise had no children up to the time of my last seeing her; the eighth was Kou-nung, who had two children by another man—the children now grown up and married. The ninth was Kok-kong, or Pun-nie, his present second wife, but with no children; the tenth was Ak-chuk-er-zhun, who, however, left him and went to live with Kooperneung ("Charley"), a man I often afterward employed. The eleventh wife of Ugarng was Nik-u-jar ("Polly"), by whom he had a child called Menoun, about three years old when I last saw it. Nikujar died while I was up there. She had been the wife of Blind George, already mentioned, but left him a few years after he became blind.
Ugarng was a remarkably intelligent man and a very good mechanic. He had several excellent traits of character, besides some not at all commendable.
In 1854-5 he was on a visit to the States, and among his reminiscences of that visit he said about New York, "G— d—! too much horse—too much house—too much white people. Women? ah! women great many-good!"
I now bring forward another man, already mentioned, Pau-loo-yer, or "Blind George." Of his parentage there is but little known, even by himself, except that his mother hung herself. He was born about 1819, and when young the Innuits took care of him. He grew up and became one of the first Esquimaux of his place. He was an excellent pilot, greatly attached to Americans, and very desirous of learning their language. He married the Nik-u-jar already spoken of, and by her had three children. The first was born in the spring of——, and had black spots covered with hair on its body. It died before six months old.
​In 1852-3 he became blind through an epidemic that took off very many of the natives. His second child also died; and the third, born in 1856, was an interesting girl called Koo-koo-yer.
Nikujar continued with her poor blind husband for five years after his affliction, and they were always attentive and kind to each other. But, as he was unable to work, she accepted the offer of Ugarng to become his principal or family, that is, household wife. She took with her the little girl Koo-koo-yer, and Ugarng became partial to it, and as he was a bold, successful hunter, generally contrived to provide for all his household, and even many more, without stint. "George," though greatly attached to his child, knew it was for her advantage to be with her mother, and thus allowed her to go, though occasionally seeking for her company with him.
I shall frequently speak of this afflicted Innuit in my narrative, and therefore have mentioned these particulars.
Another person to be referred to here is Kok-er-jab-in, the widow of Kudlago. She was born at Kar-mo-wong, on north side of Hudson's Straits, probably about the year 1814. She had had three husbands, the first being a tall, stout man, called Koo-choo-ar-chu ("Sampson"), by whom she had one son, Ning-u-ar-ping. But this husband she left because he added another woman to his household. Her second husband was An-you-kar-ping, a fine, powerful man. He was lost by the upsetting of his ki-a. When the ki-a was found it was broken into fragments, and it is thought by the Innuits that he had attacked a hooded seal, which, in return, ferociously attacked and destroyed him and his boat. By this husband she had one son, often mentioned in my journal as "Captain." Her third husband was Kudlago, who had also been previously married to a woman named Ne-ve-chad-loo, by whom two daughters, Kok-er-zhun and Kim-mi-loo, were born to him. The first of these was a pretty young woman, aged ​twenty-three, and married to Shi-mer-ar-chu ("Johnny Bull"), who was always exceedingly jealous of her. Kimmiloo was an interesting girl of about sixteen years old. By Kok-er-jab-in no children were born. She and her third husband did not get on happily together. On one occasion this woman was nearly dead from a severe dropsical complaint. The angeko was then called in, and his wife's brother undertook to perform an operation for her cure. This he did in the following manner: Ebierbing held Kokerjabin while the operator, with a sort of lancet having a blade three inches long, stabbed her quickly and forcibly in the abdomen. Water poured forth copiously, and soon after this she recovered.
At the time of my first arrival among these Innuits, several of them were in different places hunting and fishing; but I afterward became so well acquainted with them, and was on such familiar terms, that they and others I shall introduce seemed almost of my own family.
But I will now proceed with my own personal narrative.
In the afternoon, accompanied by Sterry, Gardiner, and Lamb, I went on shore. There I visited several of the natives in their tupics—summer skin-tents.
The honesty of this people is remarkable. I noticed on the beach coal, wood, four tubs of whale-line, tar, oil-casks, mincing machine, coils of rope, trying kettles, harpoons, lances, &c. all left here since the previous fall, and yet as safe as on board the ship! Another trait of their character, however, is not at all commendable. One of the first things attracting my attention, close to the tents, was the skeleton of an Innuit, or Esquimaux woman, just as she had died some three years before! She had been sick, and was left to take care of herself. The remains of her tent—her skin bedding, her stone lamp, and other domestic articles, were still by her side. This inattention to the sick and dead is a custom of the Esquimaux, and, in another place, I shall again refer to it.
When I returned on board, Kudlago's wife had just arrived. She had heard on shore of her husband's death, and at once, ​with her son (the daughter not arriving till next day), hastened to the ship. Sorrowfully, and with tears in her eyes, did the poor Esquimaux widow, Kok-er-jab-in, enter our cabin. As she looked at us, and then at the chest where Kudlago had kept his things, and which Captain Budington now opened, the tears flowed faster and faster, showing that Nature is as much susceptible of all the softer feelings among these children of the North as with us in the warmer South. But her grief could hardly be controlled when the treasures Kudlago had gathered in the States for her and his little girl were exhibited. She sat herself down upon the chest, and pensively bent her head in deep, unfeigned sorrow; then, after a time, she left the cabin with her son.
The following day I again went on shore for an excursion up the mountains, "Captain," a lad about fifteen years of age, accompanying me. My dogs had been landed immediately upon our arrival, and now greeted me with much joy. Poor creatures, how they liked once more to bury their shaggy, panting bodies beneath the snow! They skip, they run, they come and look, as if grateful, in my eye, and then bound away again in the wildest exuberance of animal spirits.
I have before mentioned some particulars of these dogs, and I now relate an anecdote concerning them during our passage across from Greenland.
One day, in feeding the dogs, I called the whole of them around me, and gave to each in turn a capelin, or small dried fish. To do this fairly, I used to make all the dogs encircle me until every one had received ten of the capelins apiece. Now Barbekark, a very young and shrewd dog, took it into his head that he would play a white man's trick. So, every time he received his fish, he would back square out, move a distance of two or three dogs, and force himself in line again, thus receiving double the share of any other dog. But this joke of Barbekark's bespoke too much of the game many men play upon their fellow-beings, and, as I noticed it, I determined to check his doggish propensities; still, the cunning, and the singular way in which he evidently watched ​me, induced a moment's pause in my intentions. Each dog thankfully took his capelin as his turn came round, but Barbekark, finding his share came twice as often as his companions', appeared to shake his tail twice as thankfully as the others. A twinkle in his eyes, as they caught mine, seemed to say, "Keep dark; these ignorant fellows don't know the game I'm playing. I am confounded hungry." Seeing my face smiling at his trick, he now commenced making another change, thus getting three portions to each of the others' one. This was enough, and it was now time for me to reverse the order of Barbekark's game, by playing a trick upon him. Accordingly, every time I came to him he got no fish; and although he changed his position rapidly three times, yet he got nothing. Then, if ever there was a picture of disappointed plans—of envy at others' fortune, and sorrow at a sad misfortune—it was to be found on that dog's countenance as he watched his companions receiving their allowance. Finding he could not succeed by any change of his position, he withdrew from the circle to where I was, and came to me, crowding his way between my legs, and looked up in my face as if to say, "I have been a very bad dog. Forgive me, and Barbekark will cheat his brother dogs no more. Please, sir, give me my share of capelins." I went the rounds three times more, and let him have the fish, as he had shown himself so sagacious, and so much like a repentant prodigal dog!
This dog Barbekark afterward again made himself remarkably noticed, as I shall have occasion to relate. He shared all my labours with me, and was here as my companion in the States, until he died a few months back.
I now return to an account of my excursion on shore.
The day was bright and lovely when I ascended the mountain. Beautiful crimson snow lay about by the side of large patches of the purer white, and as I travelled on, my heart felt as light and buoyant as the air I breathed. The scenery was grand and enchanting. Two or three lakes were passed, one of them half a mile long by the same in width, with its ​waters at a temperature of 38°, and as clear as crystal, so that the bottom could be distinctly seen. It had deep snow-banks all around it, and yet, to my surprise, musquitoes were floating on and over its surface, breeding by myriads. Some beautiful falls were situated here, walled in by huge mountains and their fragments. Many of these were enormous rocks, apparently capable of being easily set in motion by a man's power with a crowbar, so delicately were they poised upon each other. The frozen waters of winter have been doing wondrous work in throwing down these mountains. If water can find a crack in rocks, they are sure to be broken asunder.
The inventions of men give them easy power to split rocks that are massive and hard. This is done by drilling holes and entering steel wedges, which are acted upon by slight blows. Another way is to drill deep into the rock and charge with gunpowder. But God has His way of splitting rocks! He uses the little snow and rain-drops. They find their way into every recess. Crevices are at length filled with solid ice. They are enlarged; chasms now yawn; another winter, and down from their rude heights the cliffs fall, making the earth to quake in her career!
There were many, very many rocks that would be cast from their places, high up the mountains, on the next spring. A person can hardly conceive the quantity of rock that is lifted from its base every season by the freezing of water.
Never can I forget the visit I made on this excursion to the stream that runs wildly down the mountain's side, between the first and second lakelets, near Kow-tuk-ju-a—Clark's Harbour.
For one-third of a mile the stream was covered with a huge pile of snow. I crossed to the upper part of this with my Esquimaux boy, and went down to the stream itself to slake my thirst. I kneeled and drank of the sparkling waters. As I looked round before rising, what did I see? a cave of alabaster! snow-arches, numberless and incomparable! At a point where several arches commenced to spring were ​pendant finely-formed icicles, from which poured, perpendicular to the earth, unbroken streams of water, having the appearance of inverted columns of crystal supporting the arches. The number of these columns was great. Away, far down the cave, through which the stream passed, all was dark—dark as Cimmerian darkness.
From this I turned my eyes upward. Overhanging my head were pinnacled mountains 1,000 feet above me. Far as the eye could see they extended. On my still bended knees, I thanked God that I lived to behold how manifold and wonderful was the world's creation. None but God and that untutored Esquimaux saw me there, amid the roar of that mountain waterfall, offering up this, my heart's prayer!
While there I gave the dogs some dinner (capelins), and then had my own along with the Esquimaux. A good appetite made me relish the sea-biscuit and Cincinnati pork, and then, after resting a while, I began the return journey. I had ascended to a height of about 1,500 feet above the sea, and two miles from the beach, making a collection of various geological and other specimens; but these latter I unfortunately lost. On my way down, a good snow-slide, for about a quarter of a mile, on an angle of 50°, carried me swiftly on, and, in due time, I got back to the tents, where a score of Esquimaux at once kindly greeted me. Away from all the rest, seated alone among the rocks, I saw Kudlago's widow, weeping for the loss she had sustained. Her son at once went and tried to console her, but she would not be comforted, and her grief was allowed to have vent unrestrained.
The next day we had for dinner salmon, venison, and bear-meat! It was then I took my first lesson in eating the latter. I found it passable, with a taste somewhat akin to lamp oil, but yet, on the whole, good.
A few days afterward I made another excursion; and as I passed on my way up the mountain steeps, flowers greeted me at every step I took, lifting their beautiful faces from behind the gray old rocks over which I was passing. At ​length I reached a height beyond which I could mount no farther. Under the friendly shelter of a projecting cliff, I sat myself down amid the most luxurious bed of sorrel that I ever saw. I made a good feast upon it, and in ten minutes I could have gathered a bushel, it was so plentiful.
While here I had a look around. What a magnificent picture was before me! The bold mountains across the bay, with higher snow-capped ones behind them; the waterfall of 500 feet; the George Henry, the Rescue, and Black Eagle, lying at anchor beneath the shadow of those mountains, and the Esquimaux village low at my feet, was an admirable subject for a sketch.
I seized my pencil, but paper I had left behind, Still I was not to be balked. I had a new clay pipe in my mouth. I took this pipe and inspected the bowl. A little fancy line ran down its centre opposite the stem. This line would serve to represent the dashing, foaming waterfall before me; the plain surface on each side would do for the sketch. This
PIPE SKETCH.—CLARK'S HARBOUR.
I made; and such as it then was is here presented to the reader, even as I hoped I might be able to do, under the title of the "Pipe Sketch."
​After this I gathered a bouquet of flowers, some geological specimens, and returned.
On my way I again met Kudlago's widow and another Esquimaux woman. As we passed a place where some tents had formerly stood, Kok-er-jab-in called my attention, with tears in her eyes, to the spot where her husband had his tent when he bade her adieu on his visit to the States in 1859. She lifted up a portion of the back-bone of a whale which was bleaching near by, and said it was of one Kudlago had killed. Her tone, her manner as she spoke, was truly affecting, and I have no doubt she felt deeply the loss she had sustained.
On August 11th, among the Esquimaux arrivals was Kudlago's idol—a pretty little girl. She looked sad for the loss of her dear father. But how her eyes sparkled in the afternoon when several things were produced that her father had carefully gathered for her! The account of her first arrival I find in my journal as follows:—
"Kimmiloo has just been Americanized. Captain B——'s good wife had made and sent to her a pretty red dress—a necktie, mittens, belt, &c.
"Mr. Rogers and I, at a suggestion from me, thought it best to commence the change of nationality with soap and water. The process was slow, that of arriving to the beautiful little girl, whom we at length found, though deeply imbedded layer after layer in dirt. Then came the task of making her toilet. With a very coarse comb I commenced to disentangle her hair. She had but little that was long, the back part from behind her ears having been cut short off on account of severe pains in her head. How patiently she submitted to worse than the curry-comb process I had to use! This was the first time in her life that a comb had been put to her head. Her hair was filled with moss, seal, and reindeer hairs, and many other things—too numerous to call them all by name. Poor thing! yet she was fat and beautiful—the very picture of health. Her cheeks were as red as the blown rose. Nature's vermilion was upon them.
​"A full hour was I before getting that child's hair so that I could draw the coarse end of a coarse comb through it! At last that job was completed. Her little fingers quickly braided a tag of hair on each side of her head. Then I gave her two brass rings (which is the fashion among the Esquimaux women) through which to draw the hair. The skin trowsers and coat were thrown off, and the red dress put on."
Many Esquimaux now visited us, and from them I tried to obtain all the information I could as to my intended journey toward King William's Land. I also discussed the question with Captain Allen, of the Black Eagle, who I soon found well capable and willing to advise me. It was, however, too late in the season to attempt commencing the journey then, and this all of those with whom I conversed, Esquimaux and white men, told me. I had therefore to wait, and meanwhile make myself well accustomed to the sort of life I should have to endure while actually prosecuting my undertaking.
A day or two afterward I was showing Kimmiloo, Ookoodlear, and Shookok (pretty little Esquimaux girls) the pictorial illustrations in a number of the Family Bible, when "Blind George" came on board. When I asked him his name, he said, in Esquimaux, "George—poor blind George, as Americans call me."
"What is your Innuit name?" said I. "Pau-loo-yer," was the response; and then immediately added, "What is yours?" I told him, and after repeating it several times till he had pronounced it correctly, he was satisfied. I explained that the prefix "Mr." to the "Hall," which I had casually given, was an address applied to men; whereupon, soon afterward meeting the steward and blacksmith, and hearing them called by those terms, he at once said, "Mr. Steward—Mr. Blacksmith." I tried to explain the difference to him, and it was not long before he understood me. He was quick to perceive mistakes, and, when he saw an error of his own, had a hearty laugh over it. He made all his clothes—sealskins; and the ​way he threaded his needle was most amusing and singular. He took the eye end of a needle between his teeth, bringing the needle into proper position, and then placed it on his tongue near the end. He next brought the end of his thread toward the eye of his needle, and, after several trials, the thread was finally drawn through the eye by his very sensitive tongue. He then grasped with his lips and teeth the end of the thread, and thus the needle was threaded! I have seen "Blind George" thus thread his needle, time and again, in ten seconds!
Wishing to test his quality as a tailor, I gave him one of my coats to mend in the sleeve. It was full of rents, but to only one did I call his attention. I left him at his work; and being myself afterward busy at something else, I had forgotten him. When I again went to him where he was generally seated in the main cabin, he had every break mended, and all his work well done!
I took out my little magnet, and put it into his hands. He passed it through and through his fingers, and then I placed the armature upon it. This was a mystery to him. The Esquimaux exclamations that escaped his lips were numerous and amusing. I then took the armature and gave him a sewing needle, bringing it and the magnet together. This was also wondrous to him. It was many minutes before he became satisfied it was really so. He would pull one end of the needle off the magnet, and when he let go it would fly back. The approach of an armature to a magnet, both in his hands, also greatly surprised him. As they came near and he felt the attractive power, he instantly threw them aside, and it was some time before I could get him to make another trial. Still more careful was he the second time. The contact was at last made, and made quick as lightning, but just as quick did he drop the two. Finding, however, that he was not injured, and that the little girls were enjoying a hearty laugh at his expense—they having before tried it—he at last succeeded. I next tried him with a paper of needles, desiring him to bring the magnet near them. He did so, but at the ​cost of my time and patience, as I had to pick them up from all parts of the cabin. On discovering that the needles had sprung from his hand, he acted as if smitten by a thunderbolt, throwing needles, magnet, and all helter-skelter away! and still more, he at once declared I was an An-ge-ko!
At this time Ugarng was often on board the ship, and one day I was much amused at his vain attempts to pick up some mercury which I had out upon a sheet of white paper. The metal assumed a globular shape, and looked precisely like shot made of tin. Now the mercury thus presented to his view seemed to be quite beyond his comprehension. Generally, an Esquimaux is stoical under all circumstances, no matter how startling they may be, but here was something that completely upset his equanimity. After nearly half an hour's attempt to understand the lively substance before him, and to grasp it, he gave up, and also lost his temper. He burst out in some broken words, like oaths he had heard on board ship, declaring the d—l was in it, and nothing else.
A short time after our arrival at this anchorage I had a narrow escape of my life. It was most providential. No other arm but the Almighty's could have shielded me from so imminent danger as that to which I had been exposed. In the afternoon I went down seaward for the purpose of examining some rocks. I had with me my revolver, pencil, and portfolio. The stratification of these rocks was very remarkable, and for several rods I saw a quartz vein running as straight as a line N.N.W. and S.S.E. Its dip was 60°, and in thickness one and a half to two inches. Everywhere around, the fallen ruins of mountains stared me in the face. I was perfectly astonished at the rapidity with which huge rocks had evidently been rent to pieces. I also saw, standing by themselves, square pillars of stone, the strata of which were completely separated, so that I could take them off one by one, as leaves of paper. Some were an inch, half an inch, two inches, and others six inches thick. Anxious to obtain some specimens, I was engaged, with my knife, digging out some quartz and gold-like metal, slightly bedded in a fresh-broken ​rock before me, when, as I leaned forward, the revolver fell from my belt, and instantly exploded close to my hand and face! For the moment I thought myself dangerously wounded, so great was the pain I experienced in my hand and forehead; but the next instant I ascertained that the ball had just cleared me, merely forcing the powder into my hand, forehead, and round my right eye. It was a narrow escape, and a warning thereafter to be more careful how I left the hammer of any gun or pistol I had about me.
The rocks about here were indeed very remarkable. One pile consisted entirely of mica, quartz, and feldspar; and the nearest approach I can give to its appearance is to let the imagination conceive that the feldspar was in a state like putty, and worked up into various uncouth figures, the spaces between each filled up with mica and quartz. Then would there be an appearance similar to what I observed on these rocks, only that ages and ages should be added to cut out deeply the mica and quartz, leaving the pure quartz veins almost unaffected.
On the 14th of August the brig Georgiana, belonging to the same owners as the George Henry, arrived from some other whaling ground. Thus four vessels were now near each other, the Black Eagle, Georgiana, Rescue, and our own; and a very sociable and agreeable time was spent, during leisure hours, in visiting each other. But none of us were unnecessarily idle. Preparations had to be made for the coming winter, and for whale-fishing while the season yet lasted. The Black Eagle and Georgiana had their own plans, but that of the George Henry was to visit another and smaller bay on the south side of this inlet. Meanwhile Captain Budington had erected a stone and turf house for the benefit of his boats' crews, when, as was intended, some of the men should be stationed there "to fish." The roof was made from timber, with canvas well coated with tar over all.
On the 16th we sailed for Nu-gum-mi-uke, the intended winter quarters of the George Henry and Rescue. As we lef the bay—which I have named after my kind friend, Corneliu ​Grinnell—we passed several prominent places, and among them Sterry's Tower. The following is a sketch of it:—
STERRY'S TOWER
The next day, in company with many of the natives, we arrived at Nu-gum-mi-uke (a bay that I named after Cyrus W. Field, one of the promoters of my expedition). The harbour we entered was hard to find, but it was thought to be perfectly safe. Soon afterward the ship and her crew made ready for whaling; but for myself, I determined upon mixing unreservedly with the natives, and for this purpose tried to secure Ugarng as a guide and companion. I presented him with a beautiful ivory-handled knife, given to me by Wayne and Son, of Cincinnati, hoping this would lead to good results. He was much pleased with it, and said, in his own tongue, kuoy-en-na-mik (I thank you).
Ugarng's wives were really good-looking, and capital workers, chewing more seal, reindeer, and walrus skins for ​boots and mittens than any other women of the country. This chewing process will be described at another time; but I may here observe that it is one of the principal modes of making the skins pliable, and changing them into any desired form. It is a labour always performed by females, never by men. The Innuit women also washed clothes, and soon became so proficient that they could do them as well as Americans. One morning I gave my clothes to be washed by a woman called Nukertou, and by the evening she returned the articles to me completed and in good order. Ugarng gave me an excellent pair of native boots, made by one of his wives, and, in return, I presented her with some brass rings, which the women greatly prize for doing up the hair.
Wishing to visit some of the innumerable islands that lay scattered about the bay, and also place my dogs on some place best suited for them, where the remains of a whale were found, I took three Esquimaux boys and little Kimmiloo in the boat with me to pull. I accomplished my errand, and, on the return, much enjoyed the sight of my crew, including the girl (all fresh types of the Iron race of the North), smoking with pipe in their mouth, and, at the same time, pulling heartily at the oars!
On Monday, August 20th, after tea, the captain, myself, Smith, Sterry, Morgan, and Bailey took a boat, and went out a ducking. The wind was blowing fresh from the northwest, therefore we beat to windward. On the way we killed five ducks—a sport that was exciting enough, though not remunerative, five or six shot having to be expended in killing one duck. While tacking, I lost my venerable hat—the one I punctured with a pike when raising it high in the air on top of the first iceberg I visited.
On the 21st of August, at 7 a.m. the Rescue was got under way for the purpose of taking a party of us over to an inlet on the opposite side of Field Bay. It was intended by the captain to examine this and other places to see their availability for fishing depôts, and I gladly took the opportunity of accompanying him.
​While heaving up anchor, an incident occurred that served well to illustrate the character of the Innuit Ugarng. His third wife, Kun-ni-u, with the captain and myself, were at the windlass brake, and it was quite an amusing sight to behold us. Presently we had to stop for a moment, and, on commencing again, Kunniu could not quickly lay hold; whereupon her husband, who was standing by, looking on with a sort of dignity, as if he were lord of all he surveyed, at once ordered her to go ahead; and when she grasped the brake, he turned and strutted about the deck in quite an independent manner.
Two boats had to tow us out of the harbour, owing to there being no wind, and we passed through a channel between two small islands that was probably never navigated before. One man went aloft to con the way, and I stood on the bow to watch for rocks under water. Several I saw far down—some at five and ten fathoms deep, and looking white and yawning; but they were harmless, even had they been much nearer the surface, for the Rescue only drew eight feet water.
At 8 a.m. a light breeze filled the sails, and, taking up our boats, away we went across the waters of the bay. A course nearly due south was steered, somewhat westerly of Bear Sound, and in due time we approached the opposite shores, where some wild and rocky, but magnificent scenery was presented to our view. At 2 p.m. we turned into one of three or four entrances that led, by a safe channel, into a long and beautiful bay. On either side of us were towering mountains, one especially of a bold and lofty character, with its peak looking down majestically into the waters below.
The breeze had now somewhat freshened from the N.E. and was sending us along full five knots an hour. Great was the excitement; most exhilarating the whole scene. We were in waters quite new to us, and approaching Frobisher Straits—then, at least, so believed by me. Our lady-Esquimaux pilot, Kunniu, guided us safely on, but care was also needed; Morgan, therefore, went aloft to look out, and I ​again took my place on the bowsprit end. Occasionally a huge white old rock peered up its head, as if to ask, Who were we that thus disturbed the usual quietude of the place, and unsettled the peace that had reigned during the world's age? But no interruption to our progress was made. We went on and on, creating the most joyous emotions in my breast as we proceeded. My heart leaped within me as the vessel bounded forward.
I had taken my glass in hand and cast my eye to the southwest. There I could see the extent of the bay was limited by a very low coast, but beyond it were the high, bold mountains of Meta Incognita, across the olden "Straits"—so termed—of Martin Frobisher. Though in the blue melting distance, and some fifty miles off, yet they seemed like giants close by. Then, too, the lofty hills of rock on either side of us, with the sun-glade, like a pathway of dazzling gold, ahead, made the picture beautiful and exciting in the extreme. It was my first visit and approach to the scenes of Frobisher's discoveries, and well might I be excused for the joyousness of my heart on the occasion.
At length the schooner carried us to the termination of the bay, and in a few moments more we had safely anchored in a good spot, having four and a half fathoms' depth at low water.
* ↑ [See Appendix, No. 4.]
* ↑ The Greenland term for a boat or canoe containing one man is Ky-ack, but among the Innuits I was acquainted with Ki-a is the word, and such I henceforth use.