North-Pole Voyages Part 19

One day the crew of the "Henry" captured a whale in the bay, and the Esquimo joined with others in towing the monster to the ship. In one of the boats was an Esquimo woman with a babe; she laid her child in the bow of the boat and pulled an oar with the strongest of the white men.

Before they reached the vessel the wind blew a gale, the sea ran high, and at times the spray shot into the air and came down in plentiful showers into the boat. The mother cast anxious glances at her child, and, as if it was for its life, rowed with giant strength. At last the prize was safely moored to the "Henry," and the natives were rewarded with generous strips of its black skin, which they ate voraciously, raw and warm from the animal. They carried portions of it to their tupics on sh.o.r.e for future use. This skin is about three fourths of an inch thick, and, in even Mr. Hall's estimation, is "good eating" when raw, "but better soused in vinegar."

Soon after this, Captain Tyson brought the "Georgiana" round into Field Bay, and the crews of the two vessels were often together when a whale made its appearance, a circ.u.mstance sometimes the occasion of strife when he is captured. One day Smith, an officer of the "Henry," fastened a harpoon in a whale, and was devising means to secure his prey. Captain Tyson, who was near in his boat, killed the monster with his lances, and without a word, left Smith to enjoy the pleasure of taking it to his vessel. The generous act was appreciated on board the "Henry."

On the twenty-sixth of December a terrible storm commenced, causing the boats which were cruising for whales to scud home. The three vessels--the "Henry," "Rescue," and "Georgiana"--were anch.o.r.ed near each other, and near an island toward which the wind was blowing. It was about noon when the storm began, and as the day declined the wind increased, bringing on its wings a cloud of snow. When the night came on it was intensely dark, and the waves rose higher and higher as, driven by the tempest, they rolled swiftly by and dashed upon the rocky sh.o.r.e.

The vessels labored heavily in the billows and strained at their anchors, now dipping their bows deep in the water, then rising upon the top of a crested wave, and leaping again into the trough of the sea, as if impatient of restraint and eager to rush upon the rocks to their own destruction. The roar of the sea and the howling of the winds through the shrouds were appalling to all on board, while they awaited with breathless interest the integrity of the anchors, on which their lives depended.

As the night wore on the watch on deck, peering through the darkness, saw the dim outlines of the "Rescue" steadily and slowly moving toward the sh.o.r.e. "She drags her anchors!" were the fearful words which pa.s.sed in whispers through the "George Henry." But all breathed easier to hear the report from the watch soon after that she had come to a pause nearly abreast of the "Henry."

About midnight the storm put forth all the fury of its power, and the small anchor of the "Georgiana" gave way, and the others went plowing along their ocean beds, and, as the vessel neared the island, her destruction and the loss of all on board seemed certain. The endangered craft worried round a point of rocks, pounding against them as she went, and reached smoother and safer waters, where her anchors remained firm.

The ghostly-looking forms of her men were soon after seen on the island, to which they had escaped! In the mean time the men on the "Henry" were in constant fear that their vessel would be dashed upon rocks.

Just as the morning was breaking the "Rescue" broke away and went broadside upon the island. With a crash the breakers hurled her against the rocks, and seemed to bury her in their white foam. She was at once a hopeless wreck, but her crew still clung bravely to her. When the morning light had fully come, at the first lull in the storm, while yet the waves rolled with unabated fury, a whale-boat was lowered into the sea from the stern of the "Henry" with a strong line attached, and mate Rogers and a seaman stepped into it. Cautiously and skillfully it was guided to the stern of the "Rescue." Into it her men were taken, and drawn safely to the "Henry." All were saved! A shout of joy mingled with the tumult of the elements!

The "Henry" safely outrode the storm. The "Georgiana" was not seriously injured, and her men returned to her and sailed away for other winter-quarters. The "Rescue" was a complete wreck, and, what was a stunning blow to the enterprise of Mr. Hall, his expedition boat, in which, with an Esquimo crew, he had hoped to reach the far-away land of his lone sojourn and search for the Franklin men, was totally wrecked too! What now should he do? That was to him the question of questions.

One thing he resolved _not_ to do--he would not abandon his mission.

Captain Buddington thought at first that he might spare him one of the ship's boats in which to reach King William's Land; but, on careful inquiry, he found that the only one he could part with was rotten and untrustworthy. So waiting and watching became his present duty.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

THE AURORA.

MR. HALL had an eye for the beautiful in nature. The aurora deeply impressed him, inspiring feelings of awe and reverence. It will be noticed that explorers in the low lat.i.tude of Frobisher Bay are treated to displays of the aurora on a scale of magnificence and beauty never seen in the high lat.i.tudes of the winter-quarters of Dr. Kane and Hayes.

Night after night through the months of October, November, and December Mr. Hall's sensitive nature was in raptures at the wonderful sights. The heavens were aglow. The forms of brightness, and colors of every hue, changed with the rapidity of fleecy clouds driven before the wind.

Before the mind had comprehended the grandeur of one scene, it had changed into another of seeming greater beauty of form, color, and brightness. Thousands of such changes occurred while he gazed. No wonder he exclaims: "Who but G.o.d could conceive such infinite scenes of glory!

Who but G.o.d execute them, painting the heavens in such gorgeous display!"

Again he exclaims: "It seemeth to me as if the very doors of heaven have opened to-night, so _mighty_ and _beauteous_ and _marvelous_ were the waves of golden light which swept across the azure deep, breaking forth anon into floods of wondrous glory. G.o.d made his wonderful works to be remembered."

Mr. Hall had been on deck several times, witnessing the enrapturing display, and had returned into the cabin to go to bed, when the captain shouted down the companion-way: "Come above, Hall, at once! _The world is on fire!_" Mr. Hall hastened on deck. He says: "There was no sun, no moon, yet the heavens were flooded with light. Even ordinary print could be read on deck. Yes, flooded with _rivers_ of light!--and _such_ light!

light all but inconceivable! The golden hues predominated; but in rapid succession prismatic colors leaped forth.

"We looked, we saw, and we trembled; for even as we gazed the whole belt of aurora began to be alive with flashes. Then each pile or bank of light became myriads; some now dropping down the great pathway or belt, others springing up, others leaping with lightning flash from one side, while more as quickly pa.s.sed into the vacated s.p.a.ce; some, twisting themselves into folds, entwining with others like enormous serpents, and all these movements as quick as the eye could follow. It seemed as though there was a struggle with these heavenly lights to reach and occupy the dome above our heads. Then the whole arch above became crowded. Down, down it came! nearer and nearer it approached us! Sheets of golden flames, coruscating while leaping from the auroral belt, seemed as if met in their course by some mighty agency that turned them into the colors of the rainbow.

"While the auroral fires seemed to be descending upon us, one of our number exclaimed, 'Hark! hark!' Such a display, as if a warfare were going on among the beauteous lights, seemed impossible without noise.

But all was silent."

After the watchers, amazed at what they saw, retired to the cabin, they very naturally commenced a lively conversation on what they had witnessed. Captain Buddington declared that, though he had spent most of his time for eleven years in the northern regions, he had never witnessed so grand and beautiful a scene. And he added in an earnest tone: "To tell you the truth, friend Hall, I do not care to see the like again!"

In November Mr. Hall became acquainted with two remarkable Esquimo whom we shall often meet. Their names were Ebierbing and his wife Tookoolito, but were known among the white people as Joe and Hannah. They had been taken to England in 1853, and lionized there for two years. They had visited the great and good of that land at their homes, and had aptly learned many of the refinements of civilization. Queen Victoria had honored them with an audience, and they had dined with Prince Albert.

Joe declared that the queen was "pretty--yes, quite pretty;" and the prince was "good--very good." They made their visit on shipboard in a full-blown English dress, but when Mr. Hall returned their visit in their _tupic_ on sh.o.r.e they were in the Esquimo costume. Yet Tookoolito busied herself with her _knitting_ during his call. She said, as they conversed: "I feel very sorry to say that many of the whaling people are bad, making the Innuits bad too; they swear very much, and make our people swear. I wish they would not do so. Americans swear a great deal--more and worse than the English. I wish no one would swear. It is a very bad practice I believe."

Tookoolito's spirit and example had done much to improve her people, especially the women; these, many of them, had adopted her habit of dressing her hair, and of cleanliness of person and abode. In her and her husband, whom we shall meet often, we shall see the Esquimo as modified by a partial Christian civilization.

Mr. Hall made frequent visits to the Esquimo village on sh.o.r.e, mingling with the people, conforming to their habits, and studying their character. Their summer, skin-covered huts--tupics--had now given way to the _igloos_, the snow-house, essentially like those we have before seen. We will accompany Mr. Hall in a visit made in October. He found on creeping into a hut a friend whom he knew as a pilot and boatman; his name was Koojesse. He was sitting in the midst of a group of women drinking with a gusto hot seal blood. Our white visitor joined them, and p.r.o.nounced the dish excellent. On going out he was met by blind George.

"Mitter Hall! Mitter Hall!" shouted the blind man on hearing Mr. Hall's voice. There was a pensive earnestness in the call which arrested his attention. "Ugarng come to-day!" continued George. "He come to-day. My little Kookooyer way go! She here now. Speak-um, Ugarng! My little pickaninny way go! Speak-um."

The facts were these: Ugarng, who, as we have stated, had married George's wife, and taken with the mother his little daughter, was at the village attended by the latter. George, who was very fond of the child, desired her company for a while. Mr. Hall did of course "speak-um."

Ugarng and the darling Kookooyer were soon seen in happy intimacy with her father.

Mr. Hall's attention was attracted by an excited crowd, who were listening to the harangue of a young man. He was evidently master of the situation, for at one moment his audience clenched their fists and raved like madmen, and then, under another touch of his power, they were calm and thoughtful, or melted to tears. He was an _Angekok_, and was going through a series of _ankootings_, or incantations. His howlings and gesticulations were not unlike those of the heathen priests of the East, and of the medicine men of our Indians. On seeing Mr. Hall the Angekok left his snow-platform, from which he had been speaking, and ran to him with the blandest smiles and honied words. He put his arm in his and invited him into his tent, or place of worship, as it might be called; others ran ahead, and it was well filled with worshipers. Koojesse, who was pa.s.sing at the time with water for the ship, on a wave of the Angekok's hand set his pail down and followed. All faithful Esquimo in this region obey the Angekok. If he sees one smoking, and signifies that he wishes the pipe, the smoker deposits it in the Angekok's pocket.

When in the tent the Angekok placed Koojesse on one side, and Mr. Hall facing him on the other side. Now commenced the service. The Angekok began a rapid clapping of his hands, lifting them at times above his head, then pa.s.sing them round in every direction, and thrusting them into the faces of the people, muttering the while wild, incoherent expressions. The clapping of his hands was intermitted by a violent clapping of the chest on which he sat, first on the top, then on the sides and end. At times he would cease, and sit statue-like for some moments, during which the silence of death pervaded the audience. Then the clapping and gesticulations broke forth with increased violence. Now and then he paused, and stared into the farthest recess of the tent with the fiery eyes and the hideous countenance of a demon. At the right time, to heighten the effect, the wizard, by a quick sign or sharp word, ordered Koojesse to fix his eyes on this point of the tent, then on that, intimating in mysterious undertones that in such places _Kudlago's spirit shook the skin covering_! Koojesse, though one of the most muscular and intelligent of the natives, obeyed with trembling promptness, while the profuse sweat stood in drops upon his nose, (Esquimo perspire freely _only_ on the nose,) and his countenance beamed with intense excitement. The climax was at hand. The Angekok's words began to be plain enough for Mr. Hall's ears. Kudlago's spirit was troubled. Would the white man please give it rest? One of his double-barreled guns would do it! White man! white man! give Kudlago's spirit rest! Give the double-barreled gun!

The cunning wizard! But Mr. Hall, who, though brimful of laugh, had been a sober-looking listener, was not to be caught with this chaff, _except in his own interest_. He whispers to Koojesse, "Would the Angekok be a good man to go with me in the spring to King William's Land?"

"Yes," was the reply.

Then Mr. Hall turned to the Angekok and said aloud, "If you go with me next spring on my explorations you shall have one of my best guns."

Thinking the gift was to be given immediately, his crafty reverence shouted, thanked Mr. Hall, threw his arms about his neck, and danced with an air of triumph about the tent, seeming to say as he looked upon his amazed followers, "I have charmed a kablunah"--white man.

Mr. Hall tried to set him right about the terms of the gift--that it was to be when he had served him in the spring. But he would understand it as he would have it. His joy found a fullness of expression when, pointing to his two wives, he said to Mr. Hall, "One shall be yours; take your choice." He was disgusted when the white man told him that he had a wife, and that kabluna wanted but one wife.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

THE DYING ESQUIMO.

CHRISTMAS and New Year's (1861) were not forgotten as holidays by the sojourners in the regions of cold and ice. Mr. Hall gave his friend Tookoolito a Bible as a memento of December twenty-fifth. She was much pleased, and at once spelled out on the t.i.tle-page, _Holy Bible_.

Mr. Hall having heard that an Esquimo named Nukerton was seriously sick, invited Tookoolito to visit her with him. Sitting down with the sick one, with Tookoolito as an interpreter, Mr. Hall spoke to her of Jesus and the resurrection, while many of her friends stood listening with intense interest. Tookoolito bent over her sick friend weeping, and continued the talk about G.o.d, Christ, and heaven, after Mr. Hall had ceased.

Mr. Hall visited the sick one daily, administering to her bodily and spiritual wants. Going to see her on the fourth of January, he found that a new snow-hut had been built for the dying one, and her female friends had carried her into it, opening, to pa.s.s her in, a hole on the back side. It was at once her dying chamber and her tomb. For this purpose it was built in conformity to the Esquimo usage. He found Nukerton in her new quarters of stainless snow, on a bed of snow covered with skins, happy at the change though she knew that she had been brought there to die, _and to die alone_, as was the custom of her people. Mr. Hall proposed to carry her to die on board the ship. But even Tookoolito objected to this. It was better she should die alone; such was the custom of their fathers. Mr. Hall remained to watch alone with the dying one, but, on his leaving her igloo to do an errand at a neighboring tent, her friends sealed up its entrance. He threw back the blocks of snow piled against it and crept in. Nukerton was not dead; she breathed feebly; the lamp burned dimly, and the cold was intense; the solemn stillness of the midnight hour had come; sound of footsteps were heard, and a rustling at the entrance. Busy hands were fastening it up, not knowing, perhaps, that Mr. Hall was within. "Stop! stop!" he shouted, and all was silent as the grave. "Come in!" he again said.

Koodloo, Nukerton's cousin, and a woman came in. They remained a few moments and left. Mr. Hall was alone again, and remained until the spirit of the dying woman departed. He gently closed her eyes, laid out the body as if for Christian burial, closed up the igloo, and departed.

Mr. Hall knew cases, later in his stay with this people, in which the dying were for some time alone before the vital spark was extinguished.

The only attendance that the sick have is the howling and mummery of the Angekoks, who are sometimes women. They give no medicine.

Mr. Hall made several sledge excursions with his Innuit friends. One to Cornelius Grinnell Bay was full of thrilling incidents, of storms, of perils by the breaking up suddenly of the ice on which he had encamped, and one showing the wolfish rapacity of Esquimo dogs. He also had a bear chase and capture. But these, though full of exciting interest, are similar to those of other explorers, already related. The Esquimo themselves, with all their knowledge of the ice and storms, have many desperate adventures. A party of them was once busily engaged in spearing walrus, when the floe broke up and they went out to sea, and remained three months on their ice-raft! The walrus were plenty, and they had a good time of it, and returned safely.

We have given our readers an incident relating to Mr. Hall's dog, Barbekark--a not very creditable incident, it will be remembered, so far as that dog's discernment of moral right is concerned. But then we must remember that heathen dogs are not supposed to know much in that respect. Barbe, as we will call him for shortness, appears again in our story in a way which shows that he was very knowing about some matters at least.

One day, at nine in the morning, a party of the ship's company, attended by the native Koojesse, started for an excursion into Frobisher Bay.

When well out of sight of the vessel a blinding storm arose, making farther progress both difficult and dangerous. Koojesse counseled an immediate construction of a snow-hut, and a halt until the storm subsided, which was the right thing to do. But the white leader ordered a return march. The dogs, as they generally will with a fierce wind blowing in their face, floundered about in reckless insubordination.

Their leader, a strong animal, finally a.s.sumed his leadership, and dragged them for a while toward some islands just appearing in sight.

But Barbe set back in his harness, p.r.i.c.ked up his ears, and took a deliberate survey of the situation. To be sure he could _see_ only a few rods in any direction, but his mind was made up. He turned his head away from the islands, and drew with such vigor and decision that all, both men and dogs, yielded to his guidance. Through the drifts, and in the face of bewildering clouds of snow which darkened their path, he brought the party straight to the ship! A few hours more of exposure and all would have perished.

Young Barbe was a brave hunter as well as skillful guide. On a bright morning in March, the lookout on the deck of the "Henry" shouted down the gangway that a herd of deer were in sight. Immediately the excitement of men and dogs was at fever-heat. The dogs, however, did not get the news until Koojesse had crept out, and from behind an island had fired upon the deer. His ball brought down no game, but the report of the gun called out Barbe with the whole pack of wolfish dogs at his heels, in full pursuit of the flying, frightened deer. The fugitives made tortuous tracks, darting behind the islands, now this way, and then off in another direction. But Barbe struck across their windings along the straight line toward the point at which they were aiming, while the rest of the dogs followed their tracks, and so fell behind.

Koojesse returned to the vessel, the hope which just now was indulged of a venison dinner was given up, and the affair was nearly forgotten, except that some anxiety was felt lest the dogs should come to harm in their long and reckless pursuit.