[Illustration: TAKING ON AN ESKIMO PILOT. ] MY ARCTIC JOURNAL A YEAR AMONG ICE-FIELDS AND ESKIMOS BY JOSEPHINE DIEBITSCH-PEARY WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE GREAT WHITE JOURNEY ACROSS GREENLAND BY ROBERT E. PEARY CIVIL ENGINEER, U. S. NAVY LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1894 _All rights reserved_ THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK, U. S. A. _INTRODUCTORY NOTE_ _On June 6, 1891, the steam-whaler âKite,â which was to bear the expedition of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences northward, set sail from the port of New-York, her destination being Whale Sound, on the northwest coast of Greenland, where it had been determined to pass the winter, preliminary to the long traverse of the inland ice which was to solve the question of the extension of Greenland in the direction of the Pole. The members of the expedition numbered but five besides the commander, Mr. Peary, and his wife. They were Dr. F. A. Cook, Messrs. Langdon Gibson, Eivind Astrup, and John T. Verhoeff, and Mr. Pearyâs faithful colored attendant in his surveying labors in Nicaragua, Matthew Henson. This was the smallest number that had ever been banded together for extended explorations in the high Arctic zone. A year and a quarter after their departure, with the aid of a relief expedition conducted by Professor Angelo Heilprin, Mr. Pearyâs party, lacking one of its members, the unfortunate Mr. Verhoeff, returned to the American shore. The explorer had traversed northern Greenland from coast to coast, and had added a remarkable chapter to the history of Arctic exploration._ _The main results of Mr. Pearyâs journey were:_ _The determination of the rapid convergence of the shores of Greenland above the 78th parallel of latitude, and consequently the practical demonstration of the insularity of this great land-mass;_ _The discovery of the existence of ice-free land-masses to the northward of Greenland; and_ _The delineation of the northward extension of the great Greenland ice-cap._ _In the following pages Mrs. Peary recounts her experiences of a full twelvemonth spent on the shores of McCormick Bay, midway between the Arctic Circle and the North Pole. The Eskimos with whom she came in contact belong to a little tribe of about three hundred and fifty individuals, completely isolated from the rest of the world. They are separated by hundreds of miles from their nearest neighbors, with whom they have no intercourse whatever. These people had never seen a white woman, and some of them had never beheld a civilized being. The opportunities which Mrs. Peary had of observing their manners and mode of life have enabled her to make a valuable contribution to ethnological learning._ _THE PUBLISHERS._ PREFACE This plain and simple narrative of a year spent by a refined woman in the realm of the dreaded Frost King has been written only after persistent and urgent pressure from friends, by one who shrank from publicity, and who reluctantly yielded to the idea that her experiences might be of interest to others besides her immediate friends. I have been requested to write a few words of introduction; and while there may be some to whom it might occur that I was too much interested to perform this task properly, it must nevertheless be admitted that there is probably no one better fitted than myself to do it. Little, indeed, need be said. The feeling that led Mrs. Peary through these experiences was first and foremost a desire to be by my side, coupled with the conviction that she was fitted physically as well as otherwise to share with me a portion at least of the fatigues and hardships of the work. I fully concurred in this feeling, and yet, in spite of my oft-expressed view that the dangers of life and work in the Arctic regions have been greatly exaggerated, I cannot but admire her courage. She has been where no white woman has ever been, and where many a man has hesitated to go; and she has seen phases of the life of the most northerly tribe of human beings on the globe, and in many ways has been enabled to get a closer insight into their ways and customs than had been obtained before. I rarely, if ever, take up the thread of our Arctic experiences without reverting to two pictures: one is the first night that we spent on the Greenland shore after the departure of the âKite,â when, in a little tent on the rocksâa tent which the furious wind threatened every moment to carry away bodilyâshe watched by my side as I lay a helpless cripple with a broken leg, our small party the only human beings on that shore, and the little âKite,â from which we had landed, drifted far out among the ice by the storm, and invisible through the rain. Long afterward she told me that every unwonted sound of the wind set her heart beating with the thoughts of some hungry bear roaming along the shore and attracted by the unusual sight of the tent; yet she never gave a sign at the time of her fears, lest it should disturb me. The other picture is that of a scene perhaps a month or two later, whenâmyself still a cripple, but not entirely helplessâthis same woman sat for an hour beside me in the stern of a boat, calmly reloading our empty firearms while a herd of infuriated walrus about us thrust their savage heads with gleaming tusks and bloodshot eyes out of the water close to the muzzles of our rifles, so that she could have touched them with her hand, in their efforts to get their tusks over the gunwale and capsize the boat. I may perhaps be pardoned for saying that I never think of these two experiences without a thrill of pride and admiration for her pluck. In reading the pages of this narrative it should be remembered that within sixty miles of where Kane and his little party endured such untold sufferings, within eighty miles of where Greelyâs men one by one starved to death, and within less than fifty miles of where Hayes and his party and one portion of the âPolarisâ party underwent their Arctic trials and tribulations, this tenderly nurtured woman lived for a year in safety and comfort: in the summer-time climbed over the lichen-covered rocks, picking flowers and singing familiar home songs, shot deer, ptarmigan, and ducks in the valleys and lakes, and even tried her hand at seal, walrus, and narwhal in the bays; and through the long, dark winter night, with her nimble fingers and ready womanâs insight, was of inestimable assistance in devising and perfecting the details of the costumes which enabled Astrup and myself to make our journey across the great ice-cap in actual comfort. Perhaps no greater or more convincing proof than this could be desired of what great improvements have been made in Arctic methods. That neither Mrs. Peary nor myself regret her Arctic experiences, or consider them ill-advised, may be inferred from the fact that she is once more by my side in my effort to throw more light on the great Arctic mystery. R. E. PEARY, _Civil Engineer, U. S. N._ FALCON HARBOR, BOWDOIN BAY, GREENLAND, August 20, 1893. TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE NORTHWARD BOUND 9 IN THE MELVILLE BAY PACK 18 ESTABLISHING OURSELVES 31 HUNTS AND EXPLORATIONS 41 BOAT JOURNEYS AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER 54 WINTER UPON US 65 ESKIMO VISITORS 74 ARCTIC FESTIVITIES 84 THE NEW YEAR 101 SUNSHINE AND STORM 112 SLEDGE JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF 124 THE SLEDGE JOURNEYâ(_Continued_) 139 OFF FOR THE INLAND ICE 147 WEARY DAYS OF WAITING 156 MY CAMPING EXPERIENCE IN TOOKTOO VALLEY 168 âOOMIAKSOAK TIGALAY!â (THE SHIP HAS COME!) 176 RETURN OF THE EXPLORERS 182 BOAT JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF 189 FAREWELL TO GREENLAND 200 GREENLAND REVISITED 211 THE GREAT WHITE JOURNEY 221 CHAPTER I NORTHWARD BOUND First Sight of GreenlandâFrederikshaab GlacierâAcross the Arctic CircleâPerpetual DaylightâSunlit DiskoâThe Climb to the Ice-capâDinner at Inspector AnderssenâsâA Native DanceâFrom Disko to UpernavikâUpernavikâThe Governor and his WifeâThe Duck IslandsâGathering Eggs and Eider-down and Shooting Ducks. Wednesday, June 24. We have sailed and tossed, have broken through the ice-barriers of Belle Isle Straits, and once more ride the rolling swells of the broad Atlantic. Our three daysâ jam in the ice has given us a foretaste of Arctic navigation, but the good little âKiteâ speeds northward with a confidence which inspires a feeling of security that not even the famed âgreyhounds of the oceanâ afford. Genial Captain Pike is on the bridge and off the bridge, and his keen eye is casting for the land. When I came on deck to-day I found the bold, wild coast of Greenland on the right. It was a grand sightâthe steep, black cliffs, some of them descending almost vertically to the sea, their tops covered with dazzling snow, and the inland ice flowing through the depressions between their summits; at the foot of the cliffs gleamed bergs of various sizes and shapes, some of them a beautiful blue, others white as snow. The feature of the day was the Frederikshaab glacier, which comes down to the sea in latitude 62Â° 30â². It did not, however, impress me as being very grand, owing perhaps to our being so far from it. Its face is seventeen miles long, and we could see it like a wall of white marble before us. Long after we had passed it, it still appeared to be with us, and it kept us company nearly all day. Just beyond the glacier was disclosed the most beautiful mountain scenery imaginable. The weather was deliciously warm, and revealed to us a new aspect of Arctic climate. It seems strange to be sitting on deck in a light coat, not even buttoned, and only a cap on my head, in the most brilliant sunshine, and gazing on snow-covered mountains. [Illustration: Out on the Billowy Sea. The First Fragment of Greenland Ice. ] [Illustration: Capt. Richard PikeââOn Duty.â ] Thursday, June 25. We were promised another lovely day, but after noon the weather changed and a cool wind sprang up, which helped to push our little craft along at a good rate. To-night we shall have the midnight sun for the first time, and it will be weeks, even months, before he sets for us again. Everything on deck is dripping from the fog which has gathered about us. Friday, June 26. In spite of the thick fog we have been making good time, and expect to be in Disko, or more properly Godhavn, about noon to-morrow. We saw our first eider-ducks to-day. Numerous bergs again gleam up in the distance, probably the output of the Jakobshavn glacier. Tuesday, June 30. We have been in a constant state of excitement since Saturday morning, when we first set foot on Greenlandâs ice-bound shores. The pilot, a half-breed Eskimo, came on board and took us into the harbor of Godhavn shortly after nine oâclock. Mr. Peary, Captain Pike, Professor Heilprin, and myself went ashore and paid our respects to Inspector Anderssen and his family. They were very attentive to us, and invited âMr. and Mistress Pearyâ to stay with them during their stop in Godhavnâa pleasure they were, however, compelled to forego. In the afternoon a party of us from the âKiteâ set out on our first Arctic tramp, our objective point being the summit of the lofty basalt cliffs that tower above the harbor. My outfit consisted of a red blanket combination suit reaching to the knee, long knit stockings, a short eider-down flannel skirt reaching to the ankles, and the âkamiks,â or long-legged moccasins, which I had purchased in Sidney. The day was exceptionally fine and sunny, and we started off in the best of spirits. Never had I seen so many different wild flowers in bloom at once. I could not put my foot down without crushing two or three different varieties. Mr. Gibson, while chasing a butterfly, slipped and strained the cords of his left foot so that he was obliged to return to the ship. Never had I stepped on moss so soft and beautiful, all shades of green and red, some beds of it covered so thickly with tiny pink flowers that you could not put the head of a pin down between them. We gathered and pressed as many flowers as we could conveniently carryâanemones, yellow poppies, mountain pinks, various _EricaceÃ¦_, etc. Sometimes our path was across snow-drifts, and sometimes we were ankle-deep in flowers and moss. Mountain streams came tumbling down in every little gully, and their water was so delicious that it seemed impossible to cross one of these streams without stooping to drink. Our advance was very slow, as we could not resist the temptation of constantly stopping to look back and feast upon the beauties of the view. Disko Bay, blue as sapphire, thickly studded with icebergs of all sizes and beautifully colored by the sunâs rays, lay at our feet, with the little settlement of Godhavn on one side and the brown cliffs towering over it. As far as the eye could reach, the sea was dotted with icebergs, which looked like a fleet of sail-boats. The scene was simply indescribable. We reached the summit, at an elevation of 2400 feet, and built a cairn, in which we placed a tin box containing a piece of paper with our names written upon it, and some American coins. From the summit of these cliffs we stepped upon the ice-cap, which seemed to roll right down to their tops. The temperature was 91Â° F. in the sun, and 56Â° in the shade. As we descended a blue mist seemed to hang over that part of the cliffs that lay in shadow, and the contrast with the white bergs gleaming in the sapphire waters below was very striking. We returned to the foot of the cliff after eight oâclock. On Sunday we made another expedition, to the Blaese Dael, or âwindy valley,â where a beautiful double waterfall comes tumbling through the hard rock, into which it has graven a deep channel. We gathered more flowers, and collected some seaweed; the mosquitos, of which we had had a foretaste the day before, were extremely troublesome, and recalled to memory the shores of New Jersey. When we reached the first Eskimo hut, a number of the piccaninnies[1] came to me and presented me with bunches of wild flowers. We gave them some hardtack in return, and they were happy. Footnote 1: The Eskimos frequently designate their children as piccaninnies, a word doubtless introduced by the whalers. Mr. Peary, Professor Heilprin, myself, and two other members of our party dined with the inspector in the evening, joining some members of the Danish community, who had also been invited. The course consisted of fresh codfish with caper-sauce, roast ptarmigan, potatoes boiled and then browned; and for dessert, âRudgrud,â a âdump,â almonds, and raisins. There was, following European custom, a varied accompaniment of wines. After dinner the gentlemen went up-stairs to examine the geological and oÃ¶logical collections of the inspector, while the ladies preferred the parlor with their coffee. Were it not for the outer surroundings, it would have been difficult to realize that we were in the distant Arctic realm, so truly homelike were the scenes of the little household, and so cheerful the little that was necessary to make living here not only comfortable, but pleasant. The entire community numbers barely 120 souls, nine tenths of whom are Eskimos, mainly half-breeds; the remainder are the Danish officials and their families, whose recreation lies almost entirely within the little circle which they themselves constitute. Toward nine oâclock we visited the storehouse, where a native ball was in progress. Several of our boys went the rounds with the Eskimo âbelles,â but for me the odor of the interior was too strong to permit me to say that looking on was an âunalloyed pleasure.â The steps were made to the music of stringed instruments, over which the resident half-breeds have acquired a fair mastery. The participants and onlookers were all in a lively frame of mind, but not uproarious; and at the appointed time of closingâten oâclockâall traces of hilarity had virtually been banished. [Illustration: The Most Northern Outpost of Civilization on the GlobeâUpernavik. ] We had hoped to leave early on the following morning, but it was not until near two oâclock that the fog began to lift, and that a departure was made possible. Firing the official salute, and dipping our colors, we gave three hearty cheers in honor of our first Greenland hosts, and sailed out of the rock-bound harbor. It soon cleared up, and we were able to make our normal seven knots an hour. This morning it was foggy for a while, but it cleared up beautifully, and now we are just skimming along, and expect to reach Upernavik, the most northern of the Danish settlements in Greenland, about nine oâclock in the evening. Thursday, July 2. We did not reach Upernavik until 2.30 yesterday morning, owing to a very strong current which was running against us all the way from Godhavn. We remained up all night, and at 1.30 A. M. were enjoying the dazzling brightness of the sunshine. Mr. Peary took a number of photographs between midnight and morning. Upernavik is a very different-looking place from Godhavn. There are four frame-houses and a little church. The natives live in turf huts, very miserable-looking habitations, built right down in the mud. As soon as our ship steamed into the harbor, in which two Danish vessels were at anchor, the governor, Herr Beyer, came on board with his lieutenant-governor, a young fellow who had arrived only three days before. We returned the visit at noon, and were pleasantly received by the governor and his wife, a charming woman of about thirty years, who had been married but a year, and whose fondness for home decoration had expressed itself in the pictures, bric-Ã -brac, fancy embroideries, and flowering plants which were everywhere scattered about, and helped to make up an extremely cozy home. As in all other houses in the country, the guests were treated to wine immediately on entering, and with a delicate politeness the governor presented me with a corsage bouquet of the flowers of Upernavik, neatly tied up with the colors of Denmark. Our visit was fruitful in the receipt of presents, among which were Eskimo carvings, a dozen bottles of native Greenland beer, and a box of âgoodies,â addressed to âMiss Peary,â and to be opened, as a reminder, on Christmas eve. The hospitality shown to us could not have been more marked had our friendship extended over many years. [Illustration: THE SUNSET GLOWâBERG OFF SVARTENHOEK. ] Our visit was a brief one, as we were to weigh anchor early in the afternoon. We steamed away from Upernavik and headed north. The fog had cleared away and disclosed a giant mountain towering above us in the harbor. The sun shone brightly, and the sea was smooth as glass and blue as turquoise. The night promised to be a beautiful one, but I resisted the temptation to stay up, having been up the entire night before, and the greater part of the one before that. At 4 A. M. Captain Pike knocked at our door and informed us that in half an hour we would be at the Duck Islands. Here we were to land and all hands shoot eider-ducks and gather their eggs for our winter supply. We were soon on shore, and then began a dayâs sport such as I had often read about, but never expected to see. The ducks flew in thick flocks all about us, and on every side were nests as large as a large hen-nest, made of eider-down and containing from three to six eggs. The nests were not hidden, but right out on the rocks in full sight. Alas! we were too late; the ducks were breeding, and out of 960 eggs we did not get over 150 good ones. As I had not taken my gun, I spent the time in gathering down, and collected forty-three pounds in five hours. After returning to the âKiteâ for breakfast, we visited a second island, and there I bagged a bird, much to my satisfaction. Altogether ninety-six ducks were shot. CHAPTER II IN THE MELVILLE BAY PACK Melville BayâOn the Edge of the Dreaded Ice-packâFourth of JulyâButting the IceâAccident to the Leader of the ExpeditionâGloom on the âKiteââBlasting the âKiteâ out of a NipâA Real Bear and a Bear HuntâA Chase on the IceâA Phantom ShipâFree of the Pack and in the North Water at LastâThe Greenland Shore to Barden BayâFirst Sight of the Arctic Highlanders. Thursday, July 2. We are opposite the âDevilâs Thumb,â latitude 74Â° 20â², and now, at 8 P. M., are slowly making our way through the ice which marks the entrance into the Melville Bay âpack.â Friday, July 3. At midnight the engine was stopped, the ice being too thick for the âKiteâ to make any headway. At 6.30 A. M. we started again, and rammed our way along for an hour, but were again forced to stop. At eleven oâclock we tried it once more, but after a couple of hours came to a standstill. We remained in this condition until after five oâclock, when the engine was again started. For two hours we made fairly good progress, and we thought that we should soon be in open water, but a small neck of very heavy ice stopped us. While we were on deck, the mate in the âcrowâs-nest,â which was hoisted to-day, sang out, âA bear! A bear!â Off in the distance we could see an object floating, or rather swimming, in the water, and in a minute the boys were climbing helter-skelter over the sides of the âKite,â all with guns, although some soon discovered that theirs were not loaded; but the bear turned out to be a seal, and not one of about thirty shots hit him. It is now nearly 11 P. M. The sun is shining beautifully, and it is perfectly calm. I have worn only a gray spring jacket, which I have found sufficient for the balmy temperature. At midnight the cannon was fired, the flags were run up and dipped, and the boys fired their rifles and gave three cheers for the Fourth of July. The thermometer marked 31Â°. [Illustration: âA Bear! A Bear!â ] Saturday, July 4. The ice remains stubborn, and we are fast bound. All around the eye sees nothing but the immovable pack, here smooth as a table, at other places tossed up into long hummock-ridges which define the individual ice-cakes. Occasional lanes of water appear and disappear, and their presence gives us the one hope of an early disentanglement. The event of the day has been a dinner to Captain Pike, in which most of the members of our party participated. After dinner hunting-parties scoured the ice after seals, with the result of bringing in two specimens, one weighing twenty-six pounds, and the other thirty-three pounds. Sunday, July 5. All night we steamed along slowly, but at 8 A. M. we were forced once more to stop. The day has been very disagreeable, foggy, rainy, and even snowy. We have done nothing but eat and sleep. A lazily hovering ivory-gull, which ventured within near gunshot, has been added to our collections. Tuesday, July 7. The weather yesterday was dreary and disagreeable, but to-day it seems warmer. The snow has ceased falling, although the sky is still overcast, and the fog prevents us from seeing the horizon. At noon the sun came through the clouds for a few moments, and the fog lifted sufficiently for the captain to make an observation and find that our position was latitude 74Â° 51â². During the afternoon the wind died down, and an attempt was made to get through the ice; but after boring and ramming the immovable pack for nearly an hour, and gaining only a shipâs length, we concluded that we were burning coal for nothing. Mr. Peary, with Gibson, Astrup, Cook, and Matt, has been busy all the afternoon sawing, marking, and fitting the lumber for our Whale Sound cottage. The curing of a large number of drake-skins, intended to be made up into undershirts for winter wear, was a part of the dayâs work. Thursday, July 9. Yesterday and to-day the fog lifted sufficiently at times to permit us to see the land, about forty miles distant. A good observation places us in latitude 74Â° 51â², and longitude about 60Â° W. Mr. Peary fixed the points with his pocket sextant and the shipâs compass, and then made a sketch of the headlands. The ice looks rotten, but yet it holds together too firmly to permit us to force a passage. We measured some of the floes, and found the thickest to be two and a half feet. It has seemed very raw to-day, owing largely to a slight northwest wind; and for the first time the average temperature has been below the freezing-point, being 31Â½Â° F. [Illustration: Sailing Through the Pack. ] Friday, July 10. This morning the rigging was covered with hoar-frost, making the âKiteâ look like a âphantom ship.â The fog hung heavily about us, shutting out the land completely. In the forenoon a sounding was made, but no bottom was found at 343 fathoms. While we were at dinner, without any warning the âKiteâ began to move, steam was immediately gotten up, and for an hour and a half we cut our way through the ice, which had become very rotten, large floes splitting into several pieces as soon as they were struck by the âKite.â We made about three knots, when we were again obliged to halt on account of a lowering fog. Our little move was made just in time to keep up the courage of some of the West Greenland party, who were beginning to believe that we should be nipped and kept here for the winter. Although we realized that we were still ice-bound in the great and much-dreaded Melville Bay pack, we could not but enjoy at times the peculiar features of our forced imprisonment. Efforts to escape, with full promise of success, followed by a condition of impotency and absolute relaxation, would alternately elevate and depress our spirits to the extent of casting joy and gloom into the little household. The novelty of the situation, however, helped greatly to keep up a good feeling, and all despondency was immediately dispelled by the sound of the order to âfire up,â and the dull rumbling of the bell-metal propeller. We never tired of watching our little craft cut her way through the unbroken pans of ice. The great masses of ice were thrust aside very readily; sometimes a piece was split from a large floe and wedged under a still larger one, pushing this out of the way, the commotion causing the ice in the immediate vicinity fairly to boil. Then we would run against an unusually hard, solid floe that would not move when the âKiteâ struck it, but let her ride right up on it and then allow her gradually to slide off and along the edge until she struck a weak place, when the floe would be shivered just as a sheet of glass is shivered when struck a sharp, hard blow. The pieces were hurled against and on top of other pieces, crashing and splashing about until it seemed as though the ice must be as thick again as it was before the break-up; but the good old âKiteâ pushed them aside, leaving them in the distance groaning and creaking at having been disturbed. The day has been pleasant, in spite of an average temperature of 27Â½Â°. Tuesday, July 14. How different everything looks to us since I last wrote in this journal! Saturday the weather was, as usual, cold and foggy; and when, at 5.30 P. M., we found ourselves suddenly moving, every one was elated, hoping we would be able to get into the clear water ahead, which the mate said could be seen from the crowâs-nest. Mr. Peary was particularly pleased, as he said we should then reach Whale Sound by July 15, the limit he had set for getting there. After supper he and I bundled up and went on deck, and watched the âKiteâ cut through the rotten ice like butter. We had been on the bridge for some time, when Mr. Peary left me to warm his feet in the cabin. Coming on deck again, he stepped for a moment behind the wheel-house, and immediately after, I saw the wheel torn from the grasp of the two helmsmen, whirling around so rapidly that the spokes could not be seen. One of the men was thrown completely over it, but on recovering himself he stepped quickly behind the house, and I instantly realized that something must have happened to my husband. How I got to him I do not know, but I reached him before any one else, and found him standing on one foot looking pale as death. âDonât be frightened, dearest; I have hurt my leg,â was all he said. Mr. Gibson and Dr. Sharp helped, or rather carried, him down into the cabin and laid him on the table. He was ice-cold, and while I covered him with blankets, our physicians gave him whisky, cut off his boot, and cut open his trousers. They found that both bones of the right leg had been fractured between the knee and the ankle. The leg was put into a box and padded with cotton. The fracture being what the doctors pronounced a âgood one,â it was not necessary to have the bones pulled into place. Poor Bert suffered agonies in spite of the fact that the doctors handled him as tenderly as they could. We found it impossible to get him into our state-room, so a bed was improvised across the upper end of the cabin, and there my poor sufferer lies. He is as good and patient as it is possible to be under the circumstances. The accident happened in this way. The âKiteâ had been for some time pounding, or, as the whalers say, âbutting,â a passage through the ice, slowly but steadily forging a way through the spongy sheets which had already for upward of a week imprisoned her. To gain strength for every assault it was necessary constantly to reverse, and it was during one of these evolutions, when going astern, that a detached cake of ice struck the rudder, crowding the iron tiller against the wheel-house where Mr. Peary was standing, and against his leg, which it held pinned long enough for him to hear it snap. Wednesday, July 15. Mr. Peary passed a fairly comfortable night, and had a good sleep without morphine to-day, consequently he feels better. As for myself, I could not keep up any longer, and at 11 A. M., after Dr. Cook had dressed the leg and made an additional splint, I lay down, and neither moved nor heard a sound until after five oâclock. This was the first sleep I have had since Friday night. Dr. Cook, who has been more than attentive, has made a pair of crutches for the poor sufferer, but he will not be able to use them for a month. We find to-day that our latitude is 75Â° 1â², and our longitude 60Â° 9â²; consequently our headway has been very slow. It seems as if when the ice is loose the fog is too thick for us to travel in safety, and when the fog lifts the ice closes in around us. Once to-day the ice suddenly opened and a crack which visibly widened allowed us to make nearly four miles in one stretch. Throughout much of the night and day we steamed back and forth and hither and thither, trying to get through or around the ice, and to prevent the âKiteâ from getting nipped between two floes. A little after supper the fog suddenly closed in upon us, and before we could complete the passage of a narrow and tortuous lead, through which we were seeking escape from the advancing floes in our rear, we were caught fast between two large pans. The ice was only about fourteen inches thick, and there was but little danger of the âKiteâ being crushed; still, Captain Pike, with the memories of former disasters fresh in his mind, did not relish the situation, and blasted our way out with gunpowder at 8.15 P. M. This is our first ânip.â [Illustration: Bruin at Rest. ] An hour later the captain called down to me to come up at once, as a bear was advancing toward the ship. The boys had been watching and longing for a bear ever since we left New-York, and many false alarms had been given; but here was a real live polar coming straight for the âKite.â A very, very pretty sight he was, with black snout, black eyes, and black toes. Against the white snow and ice, he seemed to be of a cream color. His head was thrown up as he loped along toward us, and when, within a short distance of the âKite,â a gull flew over his head, he made a playful jump at it, all unconscious of the doom which awaited him. Eleven men with guns were stooping down on the quarter-deck waiting for the captain to give the word to fire. A bullet disabled one of the fore legs, while another struck the animal in the head, instantly dyeing it crimson; the bear stopped short, wheeled round, fell over on his head, and then got up. By this time it was simply raining bullets about the poor beast; still he staggered on toward the water. Gibson, who had jumped on the ice as soon as he fired, was now close to him, and, just as he started to swim away, put a ball in his neck, which stopped him short. A boat was lowered, and he was brought alongside the âKite.â He measured seven feet one inch in length, and we estimated his weight at from eight to ten hundred pounds. Friday, July 17. Last night was the worst night my poor husband has had. His leg pained him more than it had done so far, and he begged me to give him a sedative, which, with the doctorâs consent, I did; but even then his sleep was disturbed to such an extent that it amounted to delirium. He would plead with me to do something for his leg. After doing everything I could think of, I said, âCanât you tell me where it hurts you most, and what you think might help you?â His answer was, âOh, my dear, pack it in ice until some one can shoot it!â In this way he spent the night, and this morning he was thoroughly exhausted. Dr. Cook has succeeded in making his leg more comfortable, and now he sleeps. It seems very hard that I cannot take him away to some place where he can rest in peace. Tuesday, July 21. Since last writing in my journal, four days ago, we have been steadily nearing Cape York, and we hope soon to clear the ice of Melville Bay, and pass into the open North Water beyond. Our hopes have, however, so often been disappointed that day by day, even when in full view of the land, we become less and less confident of ever being able to disengage ourselves from our confinement. Huge grounded bergs still hold the ice together, and until they show signs of moving there is little prospect of a general break-up. On Saturday a bear with two cubs was seen on the ice ahead of us, and immediately every man was over the side of the vessel making for the animals. The mother, with a tender affection for her young, guided an immediate retreat, herself taking the rear, and alternately inciting the one cub and then the other to more rapid movement. Our boys were wholly unacquainted with the art of rapid traveling on the rough and hummocky ice, and before long the race was admitted to be a very unequal one; they were all quickly distanced. One of the men, in the excitement of the moment, joined in the chase without his gun, and, even without this implement, when he returned to the âKiteâ he was so out of breath that he had to be hauled up the sides of the vessel like a dead seal. He lay sprawling and breathless on the deck for at least five minutes, much to the merriment of the crew and the more fortunate members of the party. A round weight of over two hundred pounds was responsible for his discomfiture. Monday morning about two oâclock the fog suddenly lifted, and we found ourselves almost upon the land. The visible shore extended from Cape York to Wolstenholme Island, and we could clearly distinguish Capes Dudley Diggs and Atholl. I held a looking-glass over the open skylight in such a way that Mr. Peary could see something of the outline of the coast. Poor fellow! he wanted to go on deck so badly, thinking that if he were strapped to a board he could be moved in safety, but the doctor persuaded him to give up the thought. As the doctors have all agreed that in six months his leg will be as good as it ever was, he refuses to consider the idea of returning on the âKiteâ; as for myself, now that we have started, I want to keep on too. The air is almost black with flocks of the little auk, and a party on the ice to-day brought in sixteen birds in a very short time. Wednesday, July 22. Drs. Hughes and Sharp brought in sixty-four birds as the result of an all-night catch. We are still in the ice, with no signs of our getting out, although the captain says we have drifted twenty miles to the northward since Monday morning. We are now abreast of Conical Rock. Second Mate Dunphy has just reported seeing from the crowâs-nest a steamer off Cape York, but it is not visible to the naked eye, and we are in doubt as to what it is. Friday, July 24. The steamer did not materialize; either the mate was mistaken or the vessel drifted away from us. The ice parted early yesterday morning, much to everybodyâs relief, and we have since been pushing steadily on our course. The long line of table-topped bergs off Cape York, some of which measured not less than two hundred to three hundred feet in height, and perhaps considerably over a mile in length, is visibly moving over to the American waters, and to this disrupting force we are doubtless largely indebted for our liberation. The scenery of this portion of the Greenland coast is surpassingly fine. The steep red-brown cliffs are frequently interrupted by small glaciers reaching down to the waterâs edge. The entrance to Wolstenholme Sound, guarded as it was by huge bergs, was particularly beautiful. Saunders Island in the distance, and Dalrymple Rock immediately in the foreground, stood up like great black giants, contrasting with the snow-white bergs surrounding them and the red cliffs of the mainland on either side. Whenever anything particularly striking or beautiful appears, I am called on deck, and with my hand-glass placed at the open transom over Mr. Pearyâs head, manage to give him a faint glimpse of our surroundings. At nine oâclock this evening we rounded Cape Parry, and about ten oâclock stopped at the little Eskimo village of Netchiolumy in Barden Bay, where we hoped to obtain a native house, sledge, kayak, and various native utensils and implements for the Worldâs Columbian Exposition. Our search-party found only three houses in the settlement, and the lonely inhabitants numbered six adults and five children; five dogs added life to the solitude. These people had quantities of sealskins and narwhal tusks, many of which were obtained in exchange for knives, saws, files, and tools in general. Wood of any kind, to be used in the construction of sledges, kayak frames, and spear- and harpoon-shafts, was especially in demand; they cared nothing for our woven clothing, nor for articles of simple show and finery. We stopped this morning at Herbert Island, where we had hoped to visit a native graveyard, but no graves were found. CHAPTER III ESTABLISHING OURSELVES Arrival at McCormick BayâSelecting the Site for the HouseâTemporary QuartersâHurrying the Erection of the HouseâWhite WhalesâDeparture of the âKiteââAlone on the Arctic ShoreâA Summer StormâArctic PicnickingâThe First Birthday and the First DeerâBirthday-dinner MenuâDeparture of the Boat Party for Hakluyt and Northumberland Islands after Birds and EskimosâOccupations during their AbsenceâReturn of the Party with an Eskimo Family. Sunday, July 26. Mr. Peary is getting along nicely. His nights are fairly comfortable, and consequently he feels much better by day; his back now troubles him more than his leg. Yesterday morning at three oâclock he was awakened and told that the ice prevented our getting to Cape Acland, and that we were just abreast of McCormick Bay, and could not proceed further into the sound. He accordingly decided to put up our quarters on the shores of this bay. It was now a question as to which side of the bay would be most favorable for a home. At 9 A. M., together with several members of our party, I rowed over to the southeast shore, and walked along the coast for about three miles, prospecting for a site, and made a provisional choice of what seemed a desirable knoll. We returned to the âKiteâ about noon. After dinner Professor Heilprin, Dr. Cook, Astrup, and three others went over to the other shore, and toward evening they returned with the report that the place was perfectly desolate and not at all suitable for a camp. After supper we returned to the southeast shore to see if we could improve on the location selected in the morning, but after tramping for miles came back to the old site. While it cannot in truth be said that the spot is a specially attractive one, it would be equally untrue to describe it as being entirely devoid of charm or attraction. Flowers bloom in abundance on all sides, and their varied colors,âwhite, pink, and yellow,âscattered through a somewhat somber base of green, picture a carpet of almost surpassing beauty. Rugged cliffs of sandstone, some sixteen hundred to eighteen hundred feet high, in which the volcanic forces have built up long black walls of basalt, rise steeply behind us, and over their tops the eternal ice-cap is plainly visible. Only a few paces from the base of the knoll are the silent and still partially ice-covered waters of the bay, which extends five miles or more over to the opposite shore, and perhaps three times that distance eastward to its termination. A number of lazy icebergs still stand guard between us and the open waters of the western horizon, where the gray and ice-flecked bluffs of Northumberland and Hakluyt Islands disappear from sight. [Illustration: ON THE BEACH OF McCORMICK BAY. ] This morning the members of our party went ashore with pickaxes and shovels, and they are now digging the foundations of our âcottage by the sea.â They are also putting up a tent for our disabled commander, whence he can superintend the erection of the structure. The men are working in their undershirts and trousers, and it is quite warm enough for me to stay on deck without a wrap, even when I am not exercising; yet, if we had this temperature at home, we should consider it decidedly cool. I have had oil-stoves taken ashore for the purpose of heating the tent in case it becomes necessary. [Illustration: Our âCottage by the Sea.â ] Wednesday, July 29. The last three days have been busy ones for me, being obliged to attend to all the packing and unpacking myself, besides waiting on Mr. Peary. Monday, after dinner, the boys finished digging the foundations. Mr. Peary was then strapped to a board, and four men carried him from the âKiteâ into a boat. After crossing the bay he was carried up to the tent just back of where the house is being erected, and placed on a rough couch. He is near enough to superintend the work, and everything is progressing favorably. Last night was a queer one for me. All the boys slept on board the âKite,â leaving me entirely alone with my crippled husband in the little shelter-tent on the south shore of McCormick Bay. I had forgotten to have my rifle brought ashore, and I could not help thinking what would be the best thing for me to do in case an unwelcome visitor in the shape of a bear should take it into his head to poke his nose into the tent. While I was lying awake, imagining all sorts of things, I heard most peculiar grunts and snorts coming from the direction of the beach, and on looking out saw a school of white whale playing in the water just in front of our tent. They seemed to be playing tag, chasing each other and diving and splashing just like children in the water. I was surprised at their graceful movements as they glided along, almost coming up on the beach at times. The night passed uneventfully, but I decided to have Matt sleep on shore to-night, should the others go on board the âKiteâ again. In case of a sudden wind-storm I could not steady the tent alone, and some one ought to be within calling distance. As the members of the returning party come to bid us good-by it makes me feel very, very homesick; but a year will soon pass, and then we too shall return home. The professor has kindly offered to see mama, and do for her what he can in the way of keeping her posted. Early Thursday morning, July 30, those of our party who had slept aboard shipâthat is, all except Mr. Peary, Matt, and myselfâwere aroused and told they must âpull for the shore,â as the âKiteâ was going to turn her nose toward home. Not being accustomed to the duties of housekeeper and nurse, I was so completely tired out that I slept soundly and knew nothing of the cheers and farewell salutes which passed between the little party who were to remain in the far North, and those on board the âKite,â who would bring our friends the only tidings of us until our return in â92. Mr. Peary remarked on the cheerfulness of our men. Less than five minutes after the boat grated on the beach he heard the sound of the hammer and the whistling of the boys. Three or four hours after the âKiteâ left McCormick Bay a furious wind and rain storm swept down upon us from the cliffs back of our house. The boys continued the work on the roof as long as possible, hoping to be able to get the whole house under cover, but the fury of the storm was such as to make it impossible for them to keep their foothold on the rafters, and they were obliged to seek shelter under what there was of the roof. At meal-time they all crowded in our little 7 Ã 10 canvas tent, sitting on boxes and buckets, and holding their mess-pans in their laps. These I supplied with baked beans, stewed corn, stewed tomatoes, and corned beef, from the respective pots in which they had been prepared. The rain dashed against the tent, and the wind rocked it to and fro. Every little while one of the guy-ropes would snap with a sound like the report of a pistol, and one of the boys would have to put his dinner on the ground and go out into the storm and refasten it, for these ropes were all that kept our little tent from collapsing. The meal completed, the boys returned to the house, where they had more room, even if they were not more comfortable. I never shall forget this wretched night following the departure of the âKite.â The stream which rushed down the sides of the cliffs divided just back of the tent, and one arm of it went round while the other came through our little shelter. The water came with such force that in a few moments it had made a furrow down the middle of the tent floor several inches deep and nearly the entire width of the floor space, through which it rushed and roared. All night long I was perched tailor-fashion on some boxes, expecting every moment to see the tent torn
{'title': 'My Arctic journal: a year among ice-fields and Eskimos by Josephine Diebitsch Peary', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}