# Life with the Esquimaux/Volume 2/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII
Departure from Greenwood's Land—Numerous Rocks—Furious Tides—Narrow Escape—Preservation Island—Beginning of Winter—Ice Forming—Visit the principal Islands at Head of the Bay—Koojesse a skilful Boatman—Nearly wrecked—Saved by the Rising Tide—Departure Homeward—The Kingaite Coast—Boisterous Weather—Detained on a Rugged Island—Difficulties with the Innuit Crew—Freedom and Independence—Land.
My desire was to have continued here much longer, and thoroughly to have examined the vicinity of the natural "Gateway" already mentioned; but my companions were urgent to go, and I was obliged to yield. Accordingly, on the morning of September 6th, 1861, our tupics were struck, and we set out on the return journey.
It was 9.37 a.m. when we left our fifteenth encampment, and at ten o'clock we landed Koojesse and Koodloo on the opposite side of the estuary. They were desirous of going on another tuktoo hunt across the mountains, and were to rejoin us at the place where our thirteenth encampment had been made, the point to which we were now bound. There were thus left in the boat with me only the three women of my crew, and I was not free from anxiety till we had passed a point of land which I called the "Little Peak," and which was by the water's edge, surrounded by dangerous shoals. Then I supposed we had got over the critical portion of our way.
When abreast of the fourteenth encampment, and near a small island about one mile from that station, I found we were being carried along by the ebbing tide at a rapid rate, but I then apprehended no danger. Suzhi, who was experienced in boating, joyously called my attention to the swiftness of our progress, saying, with a sweeping motion of her hand, "pe-e-uke!" (good.) But soon this feeling of pleasure was destroyed. It was not five minutes after Suzhi's exclamation when we were all struggling for dear life.
​The island we were approaching was small, and it seemed to us that it mattered little on which side of it we should pass. On standing up, however, and looking ahead, this opinion was changed. I saw that rocks began to peer out in the channel between the island and the mainland, and we therefore steered for the other channel. But all at once, and only half a mile ahead, rocks appeared above water right in our course. This led us quickly to look over the boat's side, to see if we could see the bottom. To our dismay, jagged rocks showed themselves almost within reach of our hands, the boat meanwhile being carried along at a mill-race speed by a fierce rushing tide. It was enough to make one feel how feeble a creature man is at such a time. The Innuits were terribly alarmed at the sight ahead and under us. The rocks showed how fearfully fast we were going. On smooth water the speed is not so perceptible: but where objects, and especially dangerous objects, are visible ahead, around, and under you, such swift motion is not only seen, but felt. So it was then with us. Immediate action, however, was necessary; and seeing what I thought to be an eddy not far off, I at once turned the boat's head in that direction.
By the time we reached this eddy we had been swept down some distance, and in order to clear the threatened danger from the rapids ahead, I reversed our course, and tried to pull back. The tide was now falling rapidly, and we rowed for our lives; but all we could do was to hold our own. Our greatest exertions could not advance us one step away from the danger. Every moment I looked over the boat's side to see how far we might hope to escape the rocks; and it was truly awful as I caught sight of what was beneath us. The tide was rushing as if in the maddest fury. We could not clear ourselves. Our strength was fast failing, and if the boat were allowed for a moment to sweep with the tide, we should be lost. No chance seemed possible unless we could make the island itself. But how to reach it was the question. The tide rushed along its side as fiercely as where we then were, ​with a noise which could be heard in all directions, we had no alternative.
Placing the boat's head in such an oblique direction as to make allowance for the current, we pulled toward a bight of the island, where there seemed to be smoother water. The next moment, however, the boat was whirled round, stem for stem, in such a manner as to take all power out of our hands. Then again we thought ourselves lost; but the very movement which thus terrified us really threw us into such a position that a few strong pulls sent the boat within that island cove,
A DESPERATE PULL.
where all was still as a summer lake. "Heaven be praised!" said I; and there was occasion for gratitude, for not ten minutes after nearly all the rocks in the course we had made were above water. Soon after getting on shore, the boat was left high and dry by the receding tide, and in another hour we could see the bottom of the bay for miles, one mass of boulder and shingle. The different islands could now be visited by walking to them dry-shod. No ship, and hardly a boat, except with much care, could venture up the side of the bay. It was only by watching, and taking advantage of the tide, that even our small boat could be navigated to the head of Frobisher Bay.
​I may here mention the singular action of the tides. While on our way hither I had heard the roar of waters, as if a heavy surf were beating on the shore, and I several times asked Suzhi what it meant. Her reply was "Tar-ri-o," meaning "the sea;" but as no severe storm had raged sufficiently to cause such an uproar of the waters, I replied, "Tarrioke na-me. Koong!"—not the sea; it is the river. Thereupon she appealed to her companions, both of whom confirmed her statement, saying it was the sea. When we were upon the island I was convinced that they were right. The sea—that is, the waters of the bay—came rushing up on the flood tide, and went out with the ebb in the impetuous manner already described. It will be recollected that I doubted Koojesse's judgment on the day we left our twelfth encampment, and crossed with a view of proceeding to Aggoun. He objected to making the attempt, asserting that there would be difficulty in doing it, owing to the shallow water and the tides. I now knew that he was right, and I well understood why the Innuits dreaded the trip, and held back. In commemoration of our providential escape, I called this place "Preservation Island."
We remained on that island six hours, and at 6 p.m. resumed our trip. I found that the tide was quite eight feet higher when we left than when we put in to our place of refuge. How it could be so, and still be rushing past the island with such velocity that little headway could be made against it, I cannot explain. When the tide turned from ebb to flood we could see it coming in afar off! Its roar was like that of the sea raging in a storm. On it came with great volume and velocity. A person situated midway between some of the islands about there when a flood tide is commencing would have to run at full five miles an hour to escape being over-whelmed. The flood tide, indeed, seemed even swifter than the ebb. How long and anxiously I stood on Preservation Island, watching that incoming of the mighty waters! How I gazed at the boiling and the seething, the whirlpools—waterfalls—mill-races made by the tide as it rushed along! ​The sun was fast sinking behind the mountains of Kingaite, and the air was becoming cold. I once thought we should have to stay there for the night, but it was evident that such a course would be our destruction, as the island would undoubtedly be submerged at high water. Waiting, therefore, would not do; and, accordingly, we pushed off at the time I have mentioned.
My continued illness made me almost incapable of exertion; yet it was necessary to work, and to work hard. I steered the boat, and also aided Tunukderlien at the oar nearest me. I had constantly to keep a good look-out ahead for shoals. These, however, were foam-crested, showing where danger was to be avoided. And thus on we went, pulling rapidly down to the point of destination under difficulties that few can understand. Darkness coming on, our bark a frail boat, our crew Innuit women, and myself almost incapacitated by illness, it is easier to imagine than to describe my feelings while we were thus making the passage from the head of Frobisher Bay to the place where our whole party had to encamp.
Suzhi was so powerful at her oar that she often pulled the boat half round, and I had to guard against this by my twenty-two feet steering-oar, But all were earnest in the endeavour to reach a good landing before the tide again turned; for if we should not accomplish this, nothing, in all human probability, could save us.
At length we arrived in safety at the place of our thirteenth encampment, the point we desired to reach, and where we now made our sixteenth encampment. Here most of the company were awaiting our arrival.
On the 7th of September I kept myself quiet; indeed, I was obliged to do so. The abscess on my shoulder was so painful that I could not stir without difficulty. I thought of the many obstacles I had encountered in the prosecution of my discoveries, but consoled myself with the reflection that, at all events, something had been done since my leaving the United States. Overwhelmed with disappointment at not ​being able to proceed on my voyage to King William's Land, I yet had some gratification in the knowledge that my present voyage had not been wholly lost. I had, at least, established a geographical fact, that "Frobisher Strait" is nothing but a bay. While I was reclining on my couch suffering severe pain, I said to myself, Perhaps the kind friends at home, who have helped me in my exertions, may consider that, under all the circumstances, I have not thrown away my time and labour, and may still give me their friendship and support. If so, I shall be well repaid.
This day "Miner" and his crew departed for the purpose of hunting more game and securing furs for the winter. The males of my party—much to my annoyance—had left me two days before, on the chase.
On the next day, September 8th, I felt that winter had indeed begun. Ice formed at night, and a severe snow-storm that morning set in. We were still detained by Koojesse and his comrades, who continued absent; and for two days I was confined to my tent, with only occasional walks in the vicinity. On the 10th of September I went over the mountains westward to make a survey, as far as possible, of the whole of this locality. On my route I met Koojesse and Kudloo, just returning from their four days' hunt. Koojesse was so much fatigued that he could hardly speak. Both of them had packs of skins upon their backs, which they soon threw off, and then sat down to rest. Their first call was for tobacco, but, much to their disappointment, I had none with me. Poor fellows! they had been without a "smoke" or a "chew" for two days, and were suffering much from the want of it.
I found that Koojesse had the skins of four tuktoo, and Koodloo of three. For these seven skins they had been four days and three nights out, ascending mountains, wading rivers, sleeping out in snow-storms, their garments wet, with no spare ones to put on, and exposed to every change and privation. These Innuits do indeed toil for their winter clothing. I asked Koojesse how they managed in such ​stormy weather as we had experienced, and with the nights so dark. He replied that when each had killed one or two deer, they were all right. They stacked their guns, or, if near rocks, selected a suitable spot for a temporary tupic, made of the skins with the hair-side in. They then wrapped themselves in a tuktoo skin, and so slept warm and soundly. Helping them with their burdens as far as my weak state would permit, I continued on my trip of observation and discovery, while the two Innuits returned to the encampment, where, much to their vexation, they learned from the woman that a bear had been seen close by. My walk alone, of six miles or more, resulted in my making the discovery of the two streams which flow into the Bay of the Two Rivers.
That night another severe snow-storm came on from the south-east, and toward noon of the 11th the wind shifted to the north-west. The weather then moderated, and I set out in the boat, accompanied by Koojesse and Koodloo, for the purpose of visiting the islands inclosing a kind of harbour, on the shores of which we were encamped. The wind was blowing strong in our favour, and we therefore made sail, intending to keep under canvas the whole way. We had only one oar available, the rest having been used as frames for the tupics. As we sailed along, how exhilarating was the scene! The boat seemed to fly, so buoyantly it sped on its way. Koojesse steered, and well did he guide us between rocks and sand-pits in our course. Bounding over the crested waves, and lifting itself clear of everything but spray, our frail bark soon carried us to the point I wished to reach. It was on the east side of the harbour, on Bishop's Island, that I landed with Koojesse, while Koodloo remained in the boat to keep it from grounding, as the tide was already on the turn, and going out swiftly.
Our steps were rapid as we went over the banks of snow, up one hill, and then across a valley, and thence up to the crest of another hill—Mount Observation, as I called it—whence I could obtain a good view. Here I took several observations, as fast as I well could, noting them down at the time. The view from this point was extensive. It included ​the whole coast that terminates Frobisher Bay. I embraced that as the last opportunity I would have of linking together, by the use of my survey instruments, many important places in that locality. Some of the observations I there made for relative geographical positions include the following points: the Great Gateway; Hazard's Banks, place of fifteenth encampment; Peale Point; place of twelfth encampment, by Sylvia Grinnell River; place of fourteenth encampment; place of thirteenth and sixteenth encampments; island "Frobisher's Farthest;" and a long line of coast down on the Kingaite side.
Having accomplished my purpose, we then quickly returned to the boat. Again we made sail; but hardly had we started, when, in an instant, we were aground. Out jumped Koojesse, who, with two or three good "heaves," cleared the shore, and once more away went. But soon—ahead, here, there, everywhere—shoals appeared. Koojesse, however, now showed himself to possess much of the daring and fearlessness of a skilful sailor. He was the wild spirit guiding us safely through many dangers. His skill, however, could not save us from a peril into which we now ran, and out of which we escaped only by the care of a merciful Providence. The tide proved too strong for us, and we found ourselves, near nightfall, driven on a small rocky island of the harbour by our sixteenth encampment. We at length made our slow and tedious way in the midst of a strong gale, among dangerous shoals and threatening waves. At times, driven out of our course by the force of the wind, we would lose all the ground we had gained, finding ourselves really farther from home than when we started; and at last we were on the point of giving up in despair of reaching our encampment that night, when the tide turned. Even, with this favouring us, we sped along in imminent peril; and now, while I write, the thought of that moment comes to me with a thrill of excitement. As we flew over a rocky bottom that almost kissed our keel, I exchanged looks with my companions that expressed more than words could have said; and as now and then our boat would ride with a shock upon some boulder in its course, all ​hands would work with a silent energy which spoke volumes regarding the critical posture of our affairs. Our satisfaction and my gratitude may be imagined when we at last reached the spot we called home, and found hot coffee, besides all the comforts of Innuit life, awaiting us at the hands of Suzhi.
Thursday, September 12th, was the thirty-fifth day from the ship and the seventh at the sixteenth encampment. On that morning I determined no longer to delay, but at once to return to the George Henry (if she had not sailed), going down by the Kingaite side of Frobisher Bay. Accordingly, at 10 a.m. we all started on our homeward journey. The tide at starting was just sufficient to float us over the rocks, and we had a breeze to help us, but the weather was unfavourable. In some places we could see a snow-storm raging, and every sign of winter was now perceptible. Our trip that day was along the Kingaite coast, and after a few hours' sail we reached an island I have named Tweroong, on which Miner's party had encamped, where we also pitched our tents for the night, making our seventeenth encampment.
The next day (September 13th) we were confined to our tents on a small rocky island by a heavy gale and a furious sea; but on the 14th the weather became more moderate, and we resumed our boat-voyage, crossing over from the island to Cape Rammelsberg, on the Kingaite side, that I might examine it.
While we were there, a fine-looking tuktoo was discovered lying on one of the little plains. Kooperneung at once went off with his double-barrelled gun to secure it. I could see the royal antlers of the noble animal as it quietly reposed, unconscious of its fate. As Kooperneung approached it scented a foe, started up, and away it went at full speed; but too late. One report—another. The tuktoo was a prize, having rushed on its fate in fleeing towards a rocky pass where the cunning Innuit had secreted himself.
​We made our eighteenth encampment about four or five miles from this place, at Cape Caldwell, and on the morning of September 15th proceeded on our way. I may here observe, that few of those who read this book can have any conception of the many difficulties I had to encounter in my task. Innuits are Innuits, and such they ever will be. They are independent of every other human being, and will never brook control, no matter what engagements they enter into. At this particular time of which I am writing—and, indeed, during all my work at the head of Frobisher Bay, and on my way thither and back—I was completely at the mercy of Koojesse and his companions. He especially would do just as he pleased; and if I attempted to show opposition or express a determination to do as I might wish, ominous looks and sharp words met me. Several times I felt obliged to submit, for I knew my life was wholly in their hands.
When Koojesse, who steered the boat, was directing our course away from the Kingaite side, and when I requested him to remain where I wished to make an examination, he curtly and even savagely replied, "You stop; I go." I was forced to smother my anger, and submit to the mortification of being obliged to yield before these untamed children of the icy North. Reflection has, however, convinced me that I can hardly blame them, as I then felt inclined. They are born free as their native wilds; they have no one to control or check them; they roam about as they will; and, while they have to find subsistence as best they can, it would be almost too much to expect any subservience from them to a stranger, especially when he is alone. They are in so many points naturally noble in their character, and I received so much kindness at their hands, that it would be unjust to make their obstinate self-will, when on excursions with me, a cause of great complaint. I mention the matter, however, to show that I was unable to accomplish as much as I wished, owing to this very cause.
* ↑ After the noble-hearted Innuit woman Tweroong. This island, place of our seventeenth encampment, is in lat. 63° 28′ N. long. 68° 21′ W.
* ↑ Named after Frederick Rammelsberg, of Cincinnati, Ohio. This cape is in lat. 63° 21′ 30″ N. long. 68° 20′ W.
* ↑ I have named this cape after John D. Caldwell, of Cincinnati, Ohio. It is in lat. 63° 23′ 30″ N., long. 68° 17′ W.