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ILLINOIS

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2017ETAH

AND BEYOND

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Mt. .itm>, . ..THE UNIVERSITY
>!<» ILLINOIS
' LIBRARY

2M3.S
M^eETAH AND BEYOND

OR

Life within Twelve Degrees of the Polelibrary
of the
u,\ivfro,7y qi .

cxJ2 r.v	VTVY^CU^ETAH AND BEYOND

OR

Life within twelve Degrees of the Vole

BY

DONALD BAXTER MacMILLAN

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

houghton mifflin company
Wbt	Cambrftge

1927COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY DONALD B. MACMILLAN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

QTfjc &<bertffoe

CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.TO

MY GOOD FRIENDS
WHO HELPED ME BUILD

THE BOWDOIN

AND THUS MADE MY ARCTIC WORK
POSSIBLE

898539PREFACE

It is natural for man to wonder what lies beyond the
mountain-peaks, what strange and interesting things may
be below the encircling horizon. Without this incentive
there can be but little progress. True, dreams of untold
wealth, of Eldorados, of waters potent with eternal life, of
lotus lands free from care, of a life of happiness, have all
driven men on into the unknown; but man's inborn desire
to seek, to know, has been the dominant factor in the ex-
ploration of the world, no section of which has proved
more attractive than the North with its far-stretching,
grinding ice fields, its eternal, snow-capped peaks, its en-
circling sun and stars, its strange forms of animal life and
its swarthy, square-faced aborigines.

The Bowdoin, built especially for Arctic work, had re-
turned from her maiden trip. She had proved quite con-
clusively that a small wooden ship of the right model and
right construction is in many ways better than a steel ship.
She had penetrated successfully the ice-packed waters of
Fox Channel, had gone far beyond the Spicer Islands, had
cruised along the west coast of Baffin Land, the first ex-
ploration ship since the days of 'North West Fox,' who
sailed northward to the Arctic Circle two hundred and
ninety years ago. After being frozen in the ice for three
hundred and six days, she was ready for her second trip.
She carried provisions for fifteen months. If we failed to
break out of the winter's ice, our only resource was to live
with the Eskimos, eat what they eat, dress as they dress.
This we had done many times in the past, and therefore
had no serious apprehensions as to the future.

Our ambition for further Arctic work was based upon the
report from the Carnegie Institution of Washington thatviii

PREFACE

the results of our observations in terrestrial magnetism and
atmospheric electricity were of such interest and value that
supplementary work in other sections of the Arctic should
be done.

As a further incentive the National Geographic Society
deemed it fitting that a memorial to the dead of the Lady
Franklin Bay Expedition be placed upon the spot where
they perished.

We sailed consequently under the auspices of these two
great organizations, our objective being a point as near as
possible to Cape Sabine in Smith Sound.

As the final pages of this book are written, the Bowdoin
and her crew are once more ready to sail from Wiscasset,
in the hope of bringing back the results of new discoveries
and observations that shall add something worth while
to the sum of human knowledge.

Donald Baxter MacMillan

Wiscasset, Mains

June 25, 1927

POSTSCRIPT
(By radio)

We are back among the big hills of Labrador enjoying the
wonderful inside runs through its multitude of moss-
covered islands. The Bowdoin arrived safely at Nain, the
Moravian Eskimo village, on July 22. We began at once
to seek out a suitable spot for winter quarters, which was
finally found at the head of a beautiful bay abounding in
game. Here we have decided to establish our scientific
station because of the many advantages and opportunities
offered for good work. Scientifically we are in a virgin
country. Not a single scientist has ever visited the region.
Geographically it is known only to Eskimos and 'Live-
yeres,' the poor whites of Labrador. The bay, like all the
bays hereabouts, remains uncharted. From the tops of the
mountains we can see lake after lake extending into the
interior, all full of promise to our ichthyologist. OurPREFACE

ix

houses will soon be built and in two months will be buried
in protecting snows. Snappy cold fall days mean work in
preparation for the long winter, and then sledges will be
harnessed, carrying our men up and down the coast to
visit Eskimos, and into the interior to study the life of the
Nascopie Indian. Already we have some very interesting
and valuable results: — the first chapter in what we hope
to be a long line of discoveries. My men are happy, all
well and hard at work.

D. B. M.

Bowdoin Harbor, Labrador
August 5,1927CONTENTS

Foreword, by Gilbert Grosvenor	xvii

I. We are Off for the North	1

II. Sydney to Battle Harbor	15

III.	'Down North'Along the Labrador	28

IV.	We Follow the Road of the Norsemen	41
V. We Cross the Arctic Circle	57

VI. Our Goal in Sight	76

VII. We Select a Site for Winter Quarters	87

VIII. The Twilight of the Winter Night	105

IX. Winter Activities: Eskimos Visit the Ship	121

X. South to the Eskimo Village	146

XI. The Tablet at Cape Sabine	158

XII. The Struggle Toward Home	176

XIII.	Glorious Spring Days	187

XIV.	Breaking Out of Winter Quarters	211
XV. Good-Bye to Northern Friends . 222

XVI. Homeward Bound	234

Appendix

I. Birds of the North	251

II. The Speech of the Smith Sound Eskimos	262

III. Monthly Temperature Averages	273

Index	281ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

The Author in the Fab North	Frontispiece

Map Showing the Route of the Bowdoin from Wiscas-

set to Etah	1
Getting Ready for the Trip: The Bowdoin in Dry-

Dock, Showing her Easy Lines	2

Setting Sail from Boothbay Harbor	2

Dropping down the Harbor	8

Off Nova Scotia	3

Ralph Porter Robinson, Mate of the Bowdoin	8

Richard Goddard	9

Don Mix, Radio Operator	9

Western Entrance to Battle Harbor	32

Battle Harbor, Labrador	32
On Board the Bowdoin: Captain MacMillan; Gilbert
H. Grosvenor, President of the National Geo-
graphic Society; and Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, Head

of the Labrador Mission	S3
Two Dog-Drivers: Noo-ka-ping-^a and Abram Brom-

field	40
Captain Ross's First Meeting with the Natives of

Prince Regent's Bay, August 10, 1818	41

From John Ross's A Voyage of Discovery, London, 1819

Heading for Greenland Six Hundred Miles Away	48

Icebergs off Disco	48

The Bowdoin Entering Godthaab Fiord	49

Godthaab and the Statue of Hans Egedb	56
Ruins of a Norse Church at the Head of Godthaab

Fiord	57

The Harbor of Sukkertoppen	58

House of the Governor at Sukkertoppen	59xiv

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAQl

A Typical South Greenland House Made of Imported

Lumber Banked with Sod	59

Drifting off to their Death in Southern Seas: Ice-
bergs off the Greenland Coast	64
Halfway between the Arctic Circle and the North

Pole	65

Icebergs as far as the Eye can Reach	65

The Eskimo Kayak	72

An Oomiak Rowed by Girls and Steered by an Old Man 72
A Snow House when Lined with a Sealskin Tent can be

very Comfortable	73

Nerky, a Typical North Greenland Village	73

. Eider's Nest with Eggs Covered with Down	80

Eider's Nest with Young	80

Nests of the Eider	81

Young Eiders	81

Refuge Harbor and the Little Bowdoin tucked away

in her Winter Home	88

Protecting the Magnetic Observatory against the

Low Temperatures to Come	89

Abram Bromfield Stalking a Seal	98

Bringing Home the Meat	98

Glacial Boulders	99

The Last of the Land Disappearing beneath the

Great Greenland Ice Cap	99

Preparing for Winter	102

Ready for the Long, Cold Winter Nights	102

All Snug and Warm on Board the Bowdoin	103

Receiving Mail from the United States	103

The Team	106

How the Dog Traces are Fastened	106

Brother John's Glacier, Etah Fiord	107

A Gigantic Glacier	107ILLUSTRATIONS	xv

.	PAGE

Where Gbeely and his Party Waited so Long tor Help
to Come	128

The Lookout Point of the Greely Party at Cape Sa-
bine	128

Travel by Dog-Team Over Long White Stretches 129
Kah-ko-tchee-a, Bromfield, and E-took-a-shoo Back

from a Spring Trip	129

Ak-kom-mo-ding-wa	136

A North Greenland Eskimo	136

Off to the South on a Visit to the Eskimos	137

A Bad Corner to Get By — One of the Difficulties in
Spring Sledging	137

An Ig-loo, or Winter Home, in North Greenland 146
A Typical South Greenland Eskimo House	146

The Most Northern Family in the World, Etah 147
Luncheon on Board the Bowdoin	147

Bronze Tablet Erected by the National Geographic
Society in Memory of the Greely Party	160

Ah-wee-ah, a Full-Blooded Eskimo Girl of the Smith

Sound Tribe
Ah-mow-neddy, a North Greenland Girl
The White Wolf of the Far North
Musk-Oxen in Defense Formation
A Baby Musk-Ox
Eleven Degrees from the Pole
One Child Carries Another
A Nap

Greenland Trout

A Seal-Hole in the Spring of the Year
A Good Bag

Seal-Hunting by Kayak
Seal-Hunting on the Ice with a Rifle
Little Auks at Etah

161
161
168
169

172

173
176

176

177
184

184

185
185
188xvi

ILLUSTRATIONS

rAo>

Polar Bear and Cub Trying to Escape from the Bow-

doxn	189

Millions of Tons of Ice"	189

Purple Saxifrage	192

Dry as, a Member of the Rose Familt	192

Arctic Poppy	193

Cotton-Grass	193

A White Whale	200

Arctic Hare for Dinner	200

Nest and Young of the Burgomaster Gull	201

Young of the Burgomaster Gull	201

The Bowdoin Aground	220

Nest of the Brant	221

Nest of the Red-Throated Loon	221

The Bowdoin in the Harbor of Godhavv	224

. A Whale-Bone Gateway	225

The Beautiful Little Village of Holstenborq	232
Group at Holstenborg, Showing Typical Dress of

Half-Breed Women	233

A School for the Eskimos	233

A Danish-Eskimo Girl of Sukkertoppen	236
Another Half-Breed Eskimo Girl of Sukkertoppen 236

A Greenland Harbor	237

Houses of South Greenland Eskimos	240

Two Types of South Greenland Houses	241

Leaving the Land of the Midnight Sun	248

Beating to Windward Homeward Bound	248

Sighting the Camden Hills	249

Map of Etah and Vicinity	289FOREWORD

by

GILBERT GROSVENOR, LL.D., LITT.D.

President National Geographic Society

In the early eighties of the last century, Captain Neil
MacMillan, one of the sturdiest sailors who ever cast off
from historic Provincetown, perished in Arctic Seas. But
he left behind a six-year-old son in whose breast his own
adventures had instilled a burning ambition to know the
Arctic and to master its moods.

The call of destiny to those whom it elects to the great
tasks of life often comes in strange guises, but to none has
it assumed a more unusual shape than to Commander
Donald MacMillan, grown to manhood, and prepared by
an indomitable will for physical perfection, for the hardy
tasks to which he aspired. Some twenty years ago he was
a teacher in Worcester Academy, maintaining a summer
training camp at Casco Bay, Maine. As he walked home
late one evening he heard faint cries of help coming from
the dark waters beyond his camp. He seized a small boat
and rowed swiftly in the direction whence came the cries.
Presently he found a capsized sailboat with three boys and
three girls clinging helplessly to the keel. Bringing them
safely ashore, he returned again and recovered the body of
a seventh, who had been entangled in the rigging. Several
days later, by similar resourcefulness, it was his good for-
tune to save three other lives.

The newspapers learned of these rescues and published
the story. This story the gallant and chivalrous Peary,
Medalist of Kane Lodge, read, and, recognizing the kin-
dred spirit of the heroic young teacher, dispatched him a
letter of personal congratulation. In thanking Peary for hisxviii

FOREWORD

letter, MacMillan acknowledged his ambition and volun-
teered to enlist with Peary if the latter could use him in his
forthcoming effort to attain the North Pole. When Peary
sailed north on his historic and triumphant quest of the
Pole, MacMillan accompanied him as one of his most
trusted and efficient lieutenants.

Thus introduced to the Arctic he longed to know, by as
brave and resourceful an explorer of polar areas as the
world has ever known, Donald MacMillan set himself as-
siduously to the task of penetrating the secrets and laying
bare the mysteries of the kingdom of cold. With only one
or two exceptions, each succeeding season has seen him at
work in that region, enriching the world's knowledge of its
geography and geology, gathering meteorological data and
biological information, and laying the foundations upon
which future Arctic research will largely rest.

One thing is certain, Donald MacMillan never explored
the Arctic to escape from people. He loves teaching, he
plays the violin, his house is overflowing with books, the
people at Wiscasset say, 'Don is a good neighbor.' When
he sets sail from the little harbor in Casco Bay they de-
clare a business holiday and go down to help him load up
the Bowdoin. And he seems to 'get along' as well with the
Eskimos of Etah and other more remote Northern people.
He is kind and generous. His poise is remarkable' and
never fails in any emergency.

Once, the day before the Bowdoin was to set sail, when
the entire town and its neighbor villages were keyed up,
an accident happened which threatened to delay starting a
week — and a week's delay in the Far North's short 'open
season' means much. The little vessel jammed into a wharf
and broke a propeller part.

MacMillan looked on calmly, and without raising his
voice sang out to his engineer, 'All right, John, you
couldn't help it. We'll fix it in a jiffy.'

It is a truly wonderful experience to sail with him on hisFOREWORD

xix

Bowdoin and to watch the amazing dexterity with which
he handles the little vessel in all kinds of weather.

America and the world owe Commander MacMillan a
debt of gratitude for the splendid contributions to know-
ledge of the Arctic he has made. The feeble voice out of
the darkness in Casco Bay called him to his inspiring tasks.
The strong voice of national appreciation of his work pro-
claims him a worthy successor of the great leader whose
steps he has followed.!Columbiay^iiKxu. i„itl

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0 50100 200 300 400 500 4'0ETAH AND BEYOND

CHAPTER I
WE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

Wiscasset was crowded with people come to witness the
second departure of the Bowdoin for the Far North. The
two hotels were filled to overflowing. Automobiles were
parked thickly about the custom house, the center of the
activities of the day. From its steps the expedition, bound
for its long months of exploration and research in the
Arctic, was to receive the official farewell of the State
through its Governor, Percival Baxter, my classmate at
Bowdoin. And here also the people were to see and hear
America's most distinguished living Arctic explorer,
General Adolphus W. Greely, the leader of the Lady
Franklin Bay Expedition of 1881-84. Austin MacCormick
had come as the representative of the Bowdoin College
Alumni. William D. Patterson, of Wiscasset, and Hiram
Maxim, President of the American Radio Relay League
joined in the friendly ceremonies of farewell.

The day, June 23,1923, and the setting were beautiful;
the lovely Maine town, rich in historic association; the red-
brick building of the custom house and post office; the
dense throng with uplifted and deeply interested faces;
the beautiful evergreens; the sun-flecked harbor; and, but a
few yards distant, the staunch little Bowdoin with colors
flying from truck to deck, impatient to be away and at her
work in ice-filled waters.

After listening to the recital of General Greely de-
picting the hardships of all and the death of most of hisETAH AND BEYOND

party and the crushing of the Proteus, ten times larger
than our own little ship, many of those there assembled
on the green doubted the wisdom of our venture. Never-
theless, following us to the dock, they examined with
renewed interest what was to be our home for the next
fourteen months. Another good-bye from the Governor
and personal friends and we were away to the rhythmic
chug of our oil engine and the click of several cinemato-
graphs.

Our departure, however, was more official than final.
Much remained to be done. No ship can be properly
groomed and fitted for sea with decks black with sight-
seers and well-wishers. It was my purpose, therefore, to
proceed down the Sheepscot River to Boothbay Harbor,
there to remain over Sunday, have the Bowdoin swung for
compass variation, and then depart on Monday for
Monhegan Island, from which we were to take our final
departure on Tuesday, June 26th.

Relatives, patrons, and special friends, including General
Greely and his daughter, Mrs. Kress, accompanied us on
this first stage of our journey. At Boothbay I left the
Bowdoin in charge of my crew, and motored back to my
home in Freeport, Maine, to attend to many details at-
tendant upon my departure for certainly one and pos-
sibly two years, and, with bare possibility, forever.

Upon my arrival on board Monday morning I found
everything shipshape and the Bowdoin ready for sea.
Breaking out our colors we headed down the harbor and to
the eastward for Monhegan, twelve miles distant.

This second stage of our journey was not without in-
cident. It proved to be of especial interest to our guests.
When within four miles of the island, two medium-sized
whales broke water off our port bow, their great glistening
black backs calling forth loud exclamations of surprise
and wonder from those on board who had never before
seen such a sight. With deep labored breathing theSETTING SAIL FROM BOOTHBAY HARBOR

GETTING READY FOR THE TRIP
The Bowdoin in dry-dock, showing her easy linesr

Copyright by McDougall fif Keefe

DROPPING DOWN THE HARBOR

OFF NOVA SCOTIAWE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

8

whales disappeared only to emerge again within fifty feet
of the Bowdoin.

The effect upon the various members of the party was
of much greater interest to me than the size and general
appearance of the whale, undoubtedly a finback (Balce-
noptera physalis). The women were, obviously, much
astonished and revealed it in loud exclamations; the men
were excited, rushed for vantage-points — and yelled for
rifles. My mate grabbed a can of pemmican and hurled it
with all his might at the nearer of the two. The cook
stuck his head out of the cabin and was heard to mutter,
'What do you know about that!' — a favorite expression
which we were to hear many a time later.

We had on board as guest and passenger, Captain
Frank Pierce, of Monhegan. Knowing that his long ex-
perience in these waters had given him a perfect know-
ledge of all the shoals, ledges, tides, and currents, I dis-
missed all responsibility of pilotage with him at the wheel.
He had steered the Bowdoin on the last lap of her journey
the preceding September and was now heading her from
home at the beginning of her new trip. It was Captain
Pierce's intention to take us right to the new granite dock;
but to our disappointment we found it occupied by a small
herring steamer. As we were preparing to anchor among
the ledges on the north side of the harbor entrance, a shift-
ing of the lights at the end of the pier indicated that the
steamer was 90urteously changing her berth to make way
for us.

As we approached the pier, now almost obscured by
darkness, a surprise awaited us. Many of the early sum-
mer arrivals had assembled at the landing to bid us wel-
come. They had very hospitably received us home in the
fall and were now to witness our departure in the spring.
Tin horns, bells, and kindly greetings made us feel that the
Bowdoin had arrived at her home port.

Although it was eight-thirty in the evening, Captain4

ETAH AND BEYOND

Pierce insisted upon our going to the Island Inn for a
lobster dinner. It is needless to say that the next hour was
one of enjoyment, when with nearest relatives and best of
loyal friends we supped around a board decorated with
small American flags, island wild flowers, and the best of
Maine cooking, all a tie which bound us more firmly to the
home land and hastened a bit the coming when our work
was over.

And no less enjoyable was that which followed, a moon-
light walk across the island to the great cliffs looking sea-
ward, God's buttresses of defense against the eternal en-
mity of the sea. Far out over the moonlit waters to the
east lay our path of to-morrow, the path leading from the
home door to distant lands and strange experiences. Here
our friends had stood in the fall peering into the darkness
for the red and green sidelights of the Bowdoin. Here they
• would stand again to-morrow to bid us good-bye. Re-
luctantly we turned back through the woods to the Inn
and to the Bowdoin nestling against the dock.

A well-known landmark and an excellent landfall, 'M'n-
higgin,' Maine's most famous island, may be seen on the
oldest chart of New England and on that of Champlain as
'La Tortue.' We think of Plymouth as the foundation of
New England, but long before the Mayflower entered that
harbor in 1620, Monhegan was a thriving fishing port dur-
ing the summer months. In fact, Drake tells us, in that
classic 'Nooks and Corners of the New England Coast,'
that 'starving Plymouth was succored from Monhegan
as early as 1622.'

In the journal of Captain John Smith we find: 'Between
Monahiggin and Monanis is a small harbor, where we
rid.' Here George Weymouth anchored on the 18th of
May, 1605. A quotation from Rosier is of interest:

It appeared a mean high land, as we afterward found it, being
an island of some six miles in compass, but, I hope, the most
fortunate ever yet discovered. About 12 o'clock that day, weWE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

5

came to an anchor on the north side of the island, about a league
from the shore. About two o'clock our captain and twelve men
rowed in his ship-boat to the shore, where we made no long stay,
but laded our boat with dry wood of old trees upon the shore
side, and returned to our ship, where we rode that night....
This island is woody, grown with fir, birch, oak and beech, as far
as we saw along the shore, and so likely to be within. On the
verge grow gooseberries, strawberries, wild pease, and wild rose-
bushes. The water issued forth down the cliffs in many places;
and much fowl of divers kinds breeds upon the shore and rocks.

To-day it is the home of hardy Maine fishermen and of
a happy summer colony of artists, a bit jealous of their
beautiful island.

The morning of the 26th was all too short. Our cabins
and bunks were piled high with bundles and boxes, last
presents for Christmas and birthdays. Finally these were
stored away in the already overcrowded lazarette and the
chart table cleared for navigating. At 3.45 p.m. under full
sail and power we cleared the most southern point of Mon-
hegan with fresh, southwest wind and easy sea, laying a
course of 120° for the lighted buoy five miles south of
Seal Island, Nova Scotia, one hundred and forty-seven
miles away.

While the log, the speedometer of the ship, is registering
the miles across the Gulf of Maine, let me enumerate my
companions on this, the second cruise of the Bowdoin.

Too much care cannot be exercised in the selection of
one's companions upon a long Arctic cruise. This fact was
realized in the early days of exploration, the leaders being
even more exacting in their demands for certain qualifica-
tions than we are to-day. Herein lies the explanation of
the phrase pertaining to the dispatch of two Arctic ships
on May 20,1527, 'having in them divers cunning men to
seeke strange regions.' Considering that many of the ex-
peditions of the last century consisted of more than a hun-
dred men, and that during the long winter months their
life was mostly below decks, a very careful selection of the6

ETAH AND BEYOND

personnel was necessary if one would bring back all his men
and have harmony and happiness among his crew. Hence
the embarrassing questions: 'Can you sing?' 'Can you
dance?' 'Can you play any kind of musical instrument?'
'Can you recite?'

One commander of an Arctic expedition announced
that no man with black eyes would be accepted as a mem-
ber of his crew because of the probability of snow-blind-
ness. Blue eyes and gray eyes were considered to be more
resistant to the penetrating rays of a bright spring sun on
an Arctic snow-field. This was in spite of the fact that
Nature has deemed it wise to endow her children of snow
and ice universally with a dark, chocolate-colored eye!

'As homesickness was suspected to have some relation
to the failure of former expeditions, none but unmarried
persons were admitted as members.'

Naturally a man should be young and vigorous and en-
ergetic, and should have a love for the out-of-doors and be
unmindful of wind and weather. He should have a sound
heart — the wonderful little pump which forces the hot
blood to the ends of chilled fingers and toes. He should
have sound lungs, for energy and stamina depend so much
upon the re-oxygenation of the blood, and a stomach
capable of digesting anything but a mineral. Good eyes
must be insisted upon, for in cold weather the man with
eyeglasses is as blind as a bat due to the frosting of the
lenses. But dwarfing into insignificance all the above is the
one great qualification — a good disposition! Around this
often centers the success or failure of an expedition, for
the spirit of one man can worm-eat a strong, carefully built
structure. And nearly every expedition has had the one
man who was a nuisance from the beginning to the end of
the voyage. That men well recommended and appar-
ently popular with their associates will, upon their arrival
in the Northland, suffer a complete transformation in their

mental make-up is one of the inexplicable mysteries of

»WE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

7

Arctic work. Kane, Hayes, Hall, Greely, Baldwin,
Fiala, Peary — all have had a vast deal more trouble than
can be read between the lines of their narratives.

A man must be non-argumentative, patient, and for-
bearing with the weaknesses of his shipmates. Here in the
Arctic we cannot get away from each other. We must live
together in our one little home, and look each other in the
face day after day and month after month. 'There is no
discharge in the war.' A man who proves to be unsatis-
factory in every way must nevertheless be kept and fed
and clothed and returned safely to his home.

Letters of application received from far and near would
fill a book; letters from boys of sixteen and men of sixty,
men who 'never intend to get married,' men who consider
an Arctic expedition a legitimate channel to escape from
their wives and even from the law, nurses who consider
their services much to be preferred to those of a doctor,
would-be authors who would like the privilege of writing
a book quite different from the leader's narrative of the
voyage, and a typist who writes, 'I am in perfect health,
weigh two hundred pounds, am a widow, and know how to
conduct myself properly among a group of scientists.'

Three of the faces are familiar and are really at home
again. The mate, Thomas J. McCue, of Brigus, New-
foundland, was formerly my cook on the Baffin Land Ex-
pedition of 1921-22, and a shipmate on the Hudson Bay
trip of 1920. Since leaving his home as a mere boy as a
sailor his experiences have been wide and varied. He has
been shipwrecked by ice in Northern seas and overcome by
heat in African deserts. He served in the World War four
years overseas. He is a mine of interesting information.
And yet he is only thirty-five years old.

Ralph Robinson is my chief assistant, as formerly,
occupying with me the after cabin of the Bowdoin. Rob-
inson entered my classes at Worcester Academy eighteen
years ago. Later he was associated with me as my assis-8

ETAH AND BEYOND

tant in physical work and also at my nautical summer
camp on the Maine coast. By training a physical director,
he is by nature a gentleman, painstaking in work assigned,
friendly, loyal.

Richard H. Goddard, Dartmouth, 1921, is again the re-
presentative of the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism
of the Carnegie Institution of Washington, D.C. Des-
cended from a long line of seafaring men, Dick is quite
naturally inclined toward a seafaring life. When our en-
forced inactivity in winter quarters offered an opportunity
to contribute something to science through his college
education and scientific training, he eagerly embraced it.

John Jaynes, like Robinson and Goddard, a Massa-
chusetts man, is my engineer. He is one who by technical
training knows gas and oil engines from foundation bed to
petcock. Resourcefulness is a trait demanded of a man in
Jaynes's position, more so on an Arctic expedition than
on any other nautical trip in the world. I have known
Jaynes for nearly twenty years, so I know that I possess
a positive and not a negative factor, so detrimental to the
interests and happiness of an Arctic expedition. The
reader may congratulate me on Jaynes, a teacher of many
years of experience, a man who knows something.

One's happiness is so largely dependent upon a full
stomach and good health that I endeavored to be ex-
tremely careful in my choice of a cook. I found a good man
in William Lewis, formerly of Digby, Nova Scotia, and
now a naturalized citizen of Lynn, Massachusetts. He is
well along in years for such a trip, but his sea training and
his skill in cooking are better than youth and inexperience.
A poor cook has broken up many a home.

The youngest member of our expedition is Donald Mix,
wireless operator, from Bristol, Connecticut. Mix is a
'Ham,' furnished and highly recommended by the Amer-
ican Amateur Radio Relay League. No message ever
came too fast for Don. Tall, raw-boned, sandy-haired,RALPH PORTER ROBINSON
Mate of the BowdoinRICHARD GODDARD

DON MIX
Radio operatorWE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

9

freckle-faced, a big mouth, a wide grin, a good fellow. My
only criticism is that he is too quiet! I mention this be-
cause I was quoted all over the country as saying that
during the long winter night I order my men not to talk,
fearing lest they talk themselves out! Newspapers are
sometimes interesting, especially when they quote you.

But there are three others about the deck. Who are
they? All special friends and guests. The serious-looking,
slightly built man at the wheel was at one time my favorite
pupil at Swarthmore Preparatory School — it doesn't
seem possible — twenty-four years ago. He is Leonard
Ashton, of Swarthmore, Pennsylvania.

The boyish, frank-looking man in the mate's watch is
Sheldon Fairbanks, representative of the North American
Newspaper Alliance. Fairbee, as the boys called him, was
practically a member of our expedition in that he followed
its fortunes far more minutely than any other man. He
knows something of the trials of a leader from the incep-
tion of the plan to time of departure. He knew our hopes,
purposes, ambitions, what we would do if plans failed, if
blocked by ice, if the Bowdoin were lost. With the in-
quisitive mind of the keen reporter he had us 'covered.'

The happy laugh from the forecastle comes from E. F.
McDonald, Jr., a Chicago man, a loyal friend to the ex-
pedition and one of its best patrons. For months before the
date of sailing, McDonald gave generously of his time and
money to equip the Bowdoin with a radio outfit, a con-
tribution which may add more to our happiness than any
other single item. I am happy to have 'Gene' with me
that he may personally experience its benefits and rejoice
with us over the wisdom of his plan.

Leonard Ashton is to accompany us as far as Sydney,
Nova Scotia; Fairbanks and McDonald are to leave us at
some point on the Labrador. I am hoping that they may
find our trip of sufficient interest to accompany us at
least as far as Battle Harbor, the borderland of ice-10

ETAH AND BEYOND

bergs, the edge of what might be properly termed the Sub-
Arctic.

Our first evening at sea was signalized by a terrific
thunderstorm. The blotting-out of the stars and the
blackening of the sky west and north portended a squall.
With considerable apprehension I watched the whole sky
assume the color of ink and ordered all hands to stand
by to take in all sails. There is an old sailor's adage: 'If
the wind comes before the rain, hoist your topsails up
again.' Such is not infallible, as experience proves. The
sky cracked open emitting a jagged line of light. Then
followed crash on crash and roll on roll, but as yet no rain
or wind. The deepening gloom, lightning flashes, and
peals of thunder encircled us completely. The Bowdoin
chugged merrily on under full sail and power. So small
and so deeply loaded, the gods of the storm passed her by.
A light streak on the western horizon promised an end to
what must have been a memorable thunderstorm to people
of eastern Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia.

By nine-thirty the next morning, we had run our dis-
tance by the log, which had been tested repeatedly on the
last trip and found to be practically without error. I then
swung the Bowdoin off on a new course of 74° for the
whistle off Sambro Island, which lies at the harbor en-
trance of Halifax, Nova Scotia. Visibility was poor owing
to haze; therefore I hardly expected to see buoys or land,
and yet I should have known, having heard it from old
sailors since boyhood, that Cape Sable is tricky and not to
be trusted. It has been a veritable graveyard of ships and
men because of heavy fogs, bad shoals, and strong tides
which sweep around the southwestern end of Nova Scotia
up into the Bay of Fundy. I have seen seas breaking
between Briar Island and Grand Manan in a flat calm!

After proceeding about an hour, a lighthouse was faintly
discerned off the port bow. According to our log I judgedWE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

11

this to be Cape Sable and continued on the same course.
This I know now to have been Seal Island Light. A min-
ute's study of the chart revealed my error and the unknown
dangers confronting us in thick weather. Having felt se-
cure that the Bowdoin had a clear run of one hundred and
forty miles, I was greatly astonished, as you may well
imagine, when after three hours' run land was descried
dead ahead. We figured that had we passed Cape Sable
this could be nothing else than the Salvages between
Baccaro Point and Negro Island. And if we were headed
toward this section of the coast our compass was plumb
crazy! Could it be possible that the terrific thunderstorm
of the night before had affected the compass?

I was familiar with the experience of the White Star
Steamer Germania off Nantucket on July 11, 1884, when
one compass showed an error of two points and the stan-
dard compass was rendered perfectly useless for a period
of two hours following a severe electric storm. Many other
similar cases might be cited such as that of the S.S. Sedge-
more: when, crossing the Gulf Stream bound from Balti-
more to Liverpool, her steering compasses were completely
reversed! The S.S. Capella on May 16, 1892, suffered a
similar experience. Her compass on the upper bridge was
deflected from N. 72° W. to 45° W.! The magnetism of
the whole ship proved to be reversed. Both these latter
ships, it should be stated, were actually struck by light-
ning.

Within a few minutes I had unpacked my spare com-
pass and brought it on deck for comparison. The two com-
passes agreed exactly to the point. There was only one
conclusion. The log was inaccurate after a year of rest,
or one of us had been careless in the reading. We had not
rounded the Cape, but were still west of it. I had mis-
taken Seal Island Light for Cape Sable and was running
right in on the land, and bad land at that. The lighthouse
on our port bow was on Bon Portage Island, the one dead12

ETAH AND BEYOND

ahead was West Head on the western shore of Cape Sable
Island. I was not convinced of this, however, until we had
cruised along the shore of Green Island and arrived within
a mile of Black Head. I reversed the course, picked our way
back past Black Head and Green Island Ledge, and, close-
hauled on the starboard tack, stood out to sea, passing
close to the gas and whistling buoy four miles southwest
of Cape Sable.

I recite this in detail for the benefit of cruising yachts-
men and with this admonition, namely, to make dead
sure of your light or landmark. A positive identification
of such is of far more value than lead, log, or compass
course. Governments recognize this by endeavoring to
bestow upon each light a marked individuality in general
appearance and in flash. Seal Island and Cape Sable lights
are alike in one respect only, namely, both are octagonal
white towers, but Seal Island is distinguished by two red
horizontal bands. Trusting absolutely to my log, I had
failed to notice this. As the tide ebbs and flows around
these points at four miles an hour, I should suggest that a
course be laid at least ten miles to the southward in view of
the fact that Seal Island has a visibility of sixteen miles and
Cape Sable one of twelve.

Wednesday night, the 27th, at sea was one to be re-
membered. Volumes have been written extolling the
beauties of a full moon in all sorts and conditions of life in
varied places. In short, a full moon is beautiful anywhere,
but to me especially bewitching at sea, accompanied by
the musical ripple of cleaved waters and the rhythmic
motion of a good ship with fair wind.

We were taking no more chances. We were well off dur-
ing the night and saw no lights whatever along the land.
A momentary flare from a fishing boat almost under the
bows startled the men in the mate's watch, when passing
over the inner edge of Sambro Fishing Bank. Often the
flare is seen too late or not at all and the fishing boat failsWE ARE OFF FOR THE NORTH

13

to return. The Bowdoin under full sail and power, logging
ten knots, swept by within a few feet of a small craft.

Checking up the course and distance at the beginning
of my morning watch, I decided to make the land and laid
a course for Egg Rock Lighthouse, between Jeddore and
Ship Harbors. The octagonal wooden tower with black-
and-white stripes was easily identified, as was later Ship
Harbor whistle buoy. A beautiful day, with bright sun-
shine and fair wind, promised a quick run to Sydney. A
trip, however, from the United States to Sydney without
encountering fog, either in the Bay of Fundy or along the
Nova Scotia and Cape Breton shore, is hardly to be ex-
pected. When I came on deck at six Friday morning, I
found it raining and thick and knew we were to have our
usual search for Scatari on the eastern end of Cape Breton
Island, which marks the turn into Cabot Strait and Sydney
Harbor.

At 11.15 a.m. June 29th, we were at anchor in North
Sydney, and the first real stage of our long journey was
over. Here we were to lose one of our number. Leonard
Ashton was to return by the night train. We were sorry to
lose him. With no practical sea experience he stood his
trick at the wheel like a real sailor. He gave his shipmates
a dinner at the principal hotel, after which we bade him
good-bye at the train.

On Saturday morning, June 30th, we steamed over to
Sydney proper, a distance of five miles, and dropped
anchor in front of the yacht club, well remembering the
courtesy and hospitality invariably extended here to visit-
ing Americans, and especially to the Bowdoin, which flies
the flags of six yacht clubs, Boston, Portland, Winthrop,
Chicago, Boothbay, and Southport.

Monday, July 2d, was Dominion Day, and conse-
quently all business was at a standstill. Here, as in New-
foundland on public days, every one seemed to be going
trout fishing, a kind of national pastime. All who were not14

ETAH AND BEYOND

going fishing were to attend the horse trot at Glace Bay.
My crew joined the latter crowd and greatly enjoyed the
day. On Tuesday, July 3d, we pulled alongside the dock
to take on supplies, oil, and water. Sydney is really the
outpost of civilization for an Arctic expedition. Things
forgotten and delayed at home are here purchased and
even rushed through from the States. Here we obtained
our last green vegetables and fresh meat, also letters and
packages from home. A limited quantity of fuel oil and
kerosene can be obtained on the Labrador coast and in
Greenland, even beyond the Arctic Circle.

One by one the men came running down the dock at the
last minute, arms piled high with bundles, smelling
strongly of the barber shop, hair cut and neatly combed,
face smooth and well-powdered, having enjoyed the last
professional operation for many months to come.

Hatches were closed, everything was lashed down for
heavy weather. All on board. We were ready to go!CHAPTER n

SYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR

At 5 p.m. we proceeded down the harbor, bound for the
North. A large British coal steamer at anchor off the coal
docks recognized and saluted us with three long blasts,
which I answered with the air whistle of the Bowdoin.
Clear of the mouth of the harbor, I laid a course three miles
outside of Cape Anguille on the southwest coast of
Newfoundland. The southern coast of Labrador and the
Straits of Belle Isle are so treacherous that I was anxious
to check up my course and distance at Cape Anguille and
take my departure from that point. A thick fog through
the night precluded all possibility of this. However, at
5.17 a.m., when directly off the Cape, there was a momen-
tary break in the black curtain, giving us the faint outline
of this bold headland which has an altitude of nine hundred
and eighty-four feet above the sea. Cape Anguille is one
of a long list of French names on what is still known as the
French shore, indicative of the early occupation of this
part of Newfoundland by French fishermen.

With fair wind and engine we were rolling along at nine
and ten knots, the American flag snapping in the fresh
southwest wind in honor of the 4th; therefore, to conserve
our oil supply for the ice fields farther north, I shut off the
engine. It is worth stating that the knockabout schooner
Bowdoin is an auxiliary, equipped with a 60 H.P., four-
cylinder, C.O. type of oil engine built by Fairbanks &
Morse. It has always been a problem in Arctic work to
find a ship of sufficient cruising radius to reach a high
latitude and return to her home port. The bunker capacity
of the ordinary steamer is far too small. Even Peary's ship,16

ETAH AND BEYOND

the Roosevelt, built especially for Arctic work, could not
go North unattended, but was compelled to have a coal
carrier. Her consumption was about fifteen tons a day:
her speed, eight knots. Our consumption is five gallons of
oil per hour or one hundred and twenty gallons a day. Our
speed under engine alone is eight and a quarter knots.
Our tank capacity of 2200 gallons provides for a cruising
radius of 3629 miles, remarkable considering the size of
the Bowdoin, which is only fifteen tons net.

At 6 a.m. Thursday, I changed the course for Point
Rich on the western Newfoundland coast in latitude 50°
42', with the hope of picking up the fog signal and taking
a new departure for Isle au Bois on southern Labrador.
We stopped the engine and listened in vain. By the char-
acter of the water I decided we must be in Ingornachoix
Bay and to the southward of the Point. We 'hauled up,'
laid our course, and passed two miles to the westward of
Point Rich. At noon we were again on our course for Isle
au Bois, thirty-eight miles distant.

At 6 p.m. the lofty buttes of Bradore, 1264 feet in height,
loomed up in the fog, looking immense in the mist and
gathering twilight. Just where our landfall was it was im-
possible to say. A good anchorage was the important
thing. As we were picking our way in among rocks, long
low-lying ledges, and shoal ground, endeavoring to find a
lee, a light flashed up on our starboard quarter, its bril-
liancy so diminished by the moisture in the air that at
first I judged it to be on the Newfoundland coast, twenty-
one miles away. A flash every two and a half seconds
identified it positively as Greenly Island, the very light for
which we were looking. A bearing gave us our position
approximately. The character of the Bay ahead of us was
not a bit attractive, the bottom too near the top. I was
glad to put the wheel hard-a-port and steer for Sandy Bay,
two and a half miles northwest of Greenly Island. Here
we dropped anchor in five fathoms on clear sandy bottom,SYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR 17

completing the second stage of our journey. With a cheer-
ee-o, all sails were lowered and snugly furled. The Greenly
Island light blinked us good-night as darkness settled over
the Bay.

The next day was not favorable for proceeding, the wind
being northeast and raining; a good day, however, for
exploring. Perroquet Island, visited by Bowdoin and
Williams College students in 1860, was a few hundred
yards distant. Around and over it could be seen a multi-
tude of puffins (Fratercula arctica), really comical-looking
birds. Because of the size and shape of its bill the puffin is
sometimes called a 'Jew Duck.' I had read much of its
breeding ground on southern Labrador. Here was an
opportunity to view one at first hand. McDonald, Fair-
banks, and I motored over in our Mullins steel boat. Upon
landing we discovered the ground and even the red Cam-
brian sandstone to be literally honeycombed with bur-
rows. That some of the young were still in their holes, al-
though it was late in the year, was indicated now and then
by a whir of wings from almost beneath our feet. A closer
examination of the nests by digging away the sand which
had accumulated around the sandstone rocks revealed a
number of young nearly ready to fly, and even a few eggs.
The floor of a small shack was littered with eggshells. This
was of interest, for we knew that a warden was appointed
and paid by the Canadian Government to protect this col-
ony from the depredations of the Newfoundland fisher-
men. The matter was not difficult of explanation, how-
ever. The warden was in camp on the mainland, and,
although endeavoring to do his best, he had no boat!

In the evening we visited Lone Point Village, consisting
of one hundred and fifty people, mostly French. A Catho-
lic priest here was most hospitable, showing us with notice-
able pleasure and pride his little church being repaired and
newly painted. For thirteen years he has ministered to
these people, traveling thousands of miles with dog team.18

ETAH AND BEYOND

How many of these utterly unselfish and self-sacrificing
men we know little about!

As I looked toward the big hills over the bow of the
Bowdoin, my mind conjured a motion picture of the suc-
cessive stages of Labrador during the last one thousand
years: the 'Helluland' of the Norsemen, undoubtedly the
first of the American continent to be discovered; the
'Newlands' of the Cabots; the 'Terre Neuve' of Gaspar
and Miguel Corte Real; the 'Litus Incognitum' of the
Waldsee-Miiller map of 1507; 'Terra del Labrador' of
Perode Barcellos; 'The land God gave to Cain' of Jacques
Cartier; 'Terra Laboratoris' of an unknown Portuguese
cartographer; 'Terra Lauorador 'of the Kuntsman map;
'Terra Nova' and 'Coreati' of the Waldsee-Miiller map
of 1507; 'Terra de los Ingres' of the Maggiolo map of 1511;
'Labrador' of Alonzo de Lanta Cruz; the 'Frisland' of
Martin Frobisher! Once supposed to be a part of New-
foundland, again connected with Greenland and even with
the West Indies, it lay shrouded in mists for centuries.

Following the memorable voyage of John Cabot 'and
his sonnys,' who sailed across the North Atlantic with 'the
Pole Star on his right hand' and his return from 'the new
found sea,' where he reported codfish to be so numerous
that 'they sumtymes stayed his shippes,' the British,
French (full a hundred sailed in 1517), and the Basques or
'Biscayuers' were the earliest pioneers of the whale fishery
on the southern Labrador coast. Portuguese fishermen
also swarmed on the coast of Newfoundland and southern
Labrador. A cursory glance at this section of the coast
reveals the French fishing ports — Diable Bay, Anse a
Loup, Anse aux Morts, Forteau Bay, Amour Point, Anse
Eclair, Blanc Sablon, Isle au Bois, Belles Amours, Bonne
Esperance, and old Brest, a mythical town of a thousand
inhabitants!

At 6 a.m., July 7th, we were under way through waters
frequented by the American fishing fleet as early as 1821,SYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR 19

passing inside of Greenly Island, where in 1856, during a
severe southwest gale, thirty-one vessels were driven
ashore. Blanc Sablon, a name bestowed by Cartier three
hundred and ninety years ago, may seem incongruous to
rocky Labrador, but a summer visit reveals many beauti-
ful sand beaches. This sleepy-looking little port with one
vessel lying at anchor has caught, dried, and shipped away
hundreds of thousands of quintals of fish! Through this
port, which was formerly known as Anse Sablon, once
passed the boundary line between Canadian and New-
foundland Labrador. Passing the mouth of this sandy-
shored harbor, we turned northward for Point Amour, a
corruption of Pointe aux Morts. Here lay the wreck of
the British warship Raleigh, practically as she did eleven
months .before when we passed south from Baffin Land.
Her guns were still in place, being a bit too heavy for pass-
ing Newfoundland fishermen, who had stripped the once
fine ship to the shell. The Raleigh failed, as many another
ship has, to hear the fog signal. Just why this station under
certain conditions cannot be heard even at a short dis-
tance cannot be explained.

We were at the southern entrance of the Straits of Belle
Isle, which separate Labrador from Newfoundland. At
this point the Straits are only nine and a quarter miles
wide. From Point Amour northward the western shore
of the Straits is very picturesque, receding in buttressed
steeps to hills a thousand feet in height, of Laurentian
rock, capped with Cambrian red and gray sandstone. The
Straits were dotted with icebergs as far as the eye could
reach. A few had even penetrated through into the Gulf,
far below Point Amour, farther south than I had ever
seen them. Owing to tides, uncertain currents, and pre-
valent fogs this body of water must be carefully navigated.
There is not a section of this coast but has claimed its
scores of wrecks.

The next good harbor above Point Amour is Red Bay,20

ETAH AND BEYOND

twenty-three miles north. A heavy bank of log obscuring
Belle Isle induced me to run in here for the night. Since
the wreck of our ship at Barge Point in 1913,1 have always
hesitated to pass this cozy little harbor with its easy en-
trance and good holding ground. Red Bay, Hable de
Balleine of four hundred years ago, was named un-
doubtedly from the red syenite bordering its harbor. Once
a favorite resort of the American fishermen, and in later
years crowded with schooners and small boats, its popu-
lation has dwindled to a mere handful, typical of hundreds
of fishing ports on the Labrador. Goddard improved our
few hours here by establishing a magnetic station on
Double Island for the Carnegie Institute. His observations
in this section should throw considerable light upon the
perplexing compass deviation experienced by many ships
passing through the Straits.

On Sunday, July 8th, we ran to Henley Harbor, twenty-
seven and one half miles north. To our surprise shortly
after anchoring we descried a small yawl rounding the
point flying the colors of the Boston Yacht Club. She
proved to be the Cossack, owned by Mr. L. O. Crane, of
Boston, an enthusiastic yachtsman and angler, who was
trying his luck on the Labrador salmon. He hoped to
reach as far north as Sandwich Bay, latitude 53° 50'.

The prominent scenic feature of Henley Harbor is the
Devil's Dining-Table, a precipitous mass of columnar
basalt, two hundred and twenty-five feet in height. Its
prismatic columns supporting its nearly flat top upon a
gentle talus slope recalled student days in geology and
pictures of the Giant's Causeway. It was well w;orth see-
ing. Naturally we wanted to stand on the table. The only
accessible spot was found on the northeast slope, where
the cliff was partly eaten away by a small drainage stream
and by waters freezing and expanding in the crevices of
the rock. We found a unique register on the summit
— a number of small stones each bearing the initials orSYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR fl

names of the depositors placed upon the top of the flat
boulder.

From this vantage-point we enjoyed a perfect view of
the cluster of small houses at our feet, of the Bowdoin, of
the wonderful fiord to the west called Temple Bay, of Pitt's
Harbor, and of the hills and coastline northward capped
with fog. Picture after picture was vividly recalled to
mind of stirring scenes here at the old 'Bay of Chatteaux,'
well known long before Jacques Cartier dropped anchor
on May 27,1534. Here the Bretons and the Basques con-
gregated in the pursuit of the whale. On a neighboring
island were found several years ago forty-five tons of rotted
baleen, neatly stacked and undoubtedly made ready for
shipping. To-day it would represent in money value a
half-million of dollars. Here the great navigator and ex-
plorer, Captain James Cook, anchored when engaged in a
three-year survey of the Newfoundland and Labrador
coast. And here a British man-of-war sounded the alarm
and cleared for action to repel the assault of a flock of
loons, which one officer declared to be a marauding band
of Eskimos! Here Sir Hugh Palliser, Governor of New-
foundland, on the fifty-gun ship, the Guernsey, on Aug-
ust 21, 1765, made peace with the Eskimos, who had
harassed the fishermen night and day until life was not
safe on this coast. Here Jens Haven, Christian Drachardt,
John Hill, and Andrew Schlozer, the first of that long line
of devoted Moravian Brethren, began that noble work
atiaong the natives, which has continued uninterrupted for
a period of one hundred and fifty-nine years.

At this port, too, Ambrose Croften, Commander of
H.M.S. Pluto, took possession of the whole Labrador
coast on August 21, 1797. Following Sir Hugh's letter of
April 13,1776, to the British Admiralty in which he states:
'I have visited and examined York on Chateaux Bay with
all its harbours; And as this will always be the principal
Port on this coast, If I am empower'd I will undertake my-22

ETAH AND BEYOND

self to see One of these Useful Block Houses finished at
that place this year; This will be an Immediate Encourage-
ment to The Adventurers, and establish the Possessory
Right to the country at a place in the centre of the whole
coast,' Fort Pitt was built and garrisoned, but was cap-
tured by an American privateer in 1776. As a further pro-
tection against the '5000 of the very scum of the most dis-
orderly people from the different colonies,' four forts are
reported in 1794, namely, Fort Carlton, Fort Wallace,
Fort Sheffield, and Fort Charlotte, with a total strength
of twenty-seven guns. Admiral Richery, of France, swept
down on this and 'did in the month of September last
(1796) attack, Land and Destroy by Fire and otherwise
the British settlement in the Harbour of Temple Bay.'
Whereupon Ambrose Croften, of H.M.S. Pluto, took
possession 'publicly of the said settlement and Harbour
of Temple Bay — likewise the coast of Labrador,' that to-
gether with Newfoundland it might serve as a 'nursery
for the British Navy.'

In marked contrast to such stirring times was the in-
activity of the peaceful little village at our feet on this
Sunday of 1923. Temple Bay and Pitt's Harbor are both
deserted. Hardly a vestige of the forts remains. Eskimos
are never seen. Americans and Frenchmen have long
quitted the coast. In harmony with the peace of the port
were the flowering bake-apples, Labrador's own flower, on
every sunny slope throughout the length and breadth of
the land. Known also as the cloudberry, knotberry,
mountain bramble, mountain raspberry, and knoutberry,
scientifically as the Rubus chamcemorus, it is found in
Maine, in New Hampshire, and even at Montauk Point,
Long Island, New York. Another very interesting and
really exquisite little flower then in blossom was the cush-
ion or moss campion (SUene acaulis). This is found also
in our own country on the summit of Mount Washington
and in the Rocky Mountains.SYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR S3

Here is virgin ground for the botanist. We have spent
hundreds of years, with the loss of hundreds of men and
the expenditure of millions of dollars, to explore the Far
North and reach the North Pole, and yet have passed by
and neglected at our very doors lands rich in beauty and
in valuable scientific facts, facts pertaining to the rocks,
the birds, the flowers, the animals, the fish — all of which
add something to the total that makes this land of ours so
interesting.

Early Monday morning, we were under way for a run of
twenty-six miles. American Tickle was so jammed with ice
that we were compelled to make a detour around Castle
Island. With clear weather we now had our first view of
Belle Isle — the Isle of Demons, or Island of Bad Fortune
of the sixteenth century. Its reputation is both bad and
good, for it has harbored many a shipwrecked crew. The
four-hour run to Battle Harbor was without incident.
Clear weather enabled us to pass inside of Double Island,
close to Gull, and inside the breaking rocks to Great, and
on up the narrow run into what can hardly be called a
harbor. It is more like a gigantic crack. In bad weather
breakers thunder at its mouth; a heavy swell rolls through
the 'tickle,' necessitating all anchors and lines.

We tied up at the dock of Baine, Johnson & Company
and were greeted heartily by Mr. John Croucher, its man-
ager, whose hospitality I have enjoyed and appreciated
during my eleven visits to this port. With me Battle
Harbor and Croucher are almost synonymous words.
Here we have a home, sit down to a white tablecloth, to
woman's cooking, enjoy the luxury of a hot bath, and cache
our valuables and 'store clothes' against our return from
the North, one, two, three, and even, in one case, four
years later.

Battle Harbor has been called the capital of Labrador,
and perhaps rightly, for it is in many ways the most in-
teresting port on the coast. It is generally believed that it24

ETAH AND BEYOND

derives its name from the tradition of an encounter here
between the Indians and Eskimos, inveterate enemies even
to-day. According to Gosling, however, the name ' Batal'
was found on maps two hundred years before the date of
the supposed fight and is the Portuguese word for a boat.
That it was a well-known and prosperous fishing port one
hundred and forty-four years ago is evidenced by the fact
that an American privateer entered the harbor and com-
mitted depredations during our Revolutionary War.
Some of the buildings here are among the oldest on the
Labrador, the seams between the planks being calked and
payed with pitch like a boat. To-day 'Battle' is a popular
harbor for 'floaters,' 'stationers,' and 'liveyeres.' The
'floater' is the green fish catcher who sails leisurely north-
ward along the coast, salting his fish in the hold of his
schooner, and later taking them to St. John's, Newfound-
land, to market. The 'stationer' or 'freighter' is a summer
land transient who owns a fishing station, which may be a
very modest turf-covered shack housing his wife and
children, or a home made from a section of an overturned
boat, or a very imposing set of buildings, known as 'rooms.'
From such establishments more than three hundred thou-
sand quintals of codfish are exported direct each year in
iron steamships and in Norwegian and Danish barks.
Some five hundred thousand quintals are transported to
Newfoundland.

What a wealth of history and information is revealed by
the nomenclature of a coast line! In the word 'Batal' we
have evidence that the Portuguese visited this coast and
possibly fished at this very harbor. Yankee Cove, Amer-
ican Tickle, American Creek, proclaim the visit of our own
fishermen; Frenchman Rim, the French; Indian Point,
Indian Bight, Indian Islands, Indian Tickle, Indian Har-
bor, Indian Head, Indian Cover, the presence of Eskimos,
known among the fishermen as 'Indians.' The fishermen
used at least three kinds of craft, for we find Brig Harbor,SYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR 25

Schooner Run, and Sloop Harbor. That the crews were
not temperate, we know from Grog Island and Drunken
Harbor and Drunken Cove. That the coast must needs be
carefully navigated, we may judge from such names as
Wad Bight, Wild Cove, Mad Moll, The Wolves, Bull Dog,
Ragged Island, Ironbound, Windy Tickle,. Wreck Bay,
and Run-by-Guess Tickle. Pinch Gut is suggestive of a
personal experience, but evidently not a serious one, for a
short distance beyond we find Tea Pot Island, Coffee
Island, Sandwich Island, Fill-Belly Island, and at last,
Paradise!

What species of fish do we find on the Labrador? The
chart will give us that information: Cod Island, Capelin
Bay, Tom Cod Rocks, Herring Island, Lance Cove,
Grampus Tickle, Whale Island, Pike Run, Trout Cove,
Salmon Island, Crab Island, and Sculpin Island.

What kind of animals? Seal Island, White-Bear Bay,
Deer Island, Great Caribou Island, Hare Island, Fox
Harbor, Black Bear Bay, Porcupine Point, Ferret Island,
Wolf Island, and Otter Brook.

What kind of birds? Gull Island, Shag Rocks, Pigeon
Island, Gannet Island, Penguin Harbor (now extinct),
Eider Duck Island, Goose Cove, Curlew Point, Raven
Island, Eagle Cove, Partridge Bay, Tinker Island, Diver
Tickle, Dove Brook, Grouse Island, Merlin Hill, and
Lark Harbor.

Black Fly Island and Mosquito Cove tell much in a few
words of the curse of the Labrador, as every visitor during
June, July, and August knows. That the early fishermen
were as romantic and sentimental then as now, we know
from Lady's Arm, Lady Cove, Lily Rocks, Sophia Harbor,
Emily Harbor, Fanny's Harbor, May Harbor, Elizabeth
Harbor (she fell overboard here), Jane White's Cove,
Jennie White's Cove, and Port Charlotte. Is it a wind-
swept, barren coast? The numerous Green Islands, Green
Coves, and Wood Islands all deny the accusation. Mas-26

ETAH AND BEYOND

sacre Island and Cut-Throat may prejudice us against its
past, but Favorite Tickle, Comfort Bight, and Paradise
lead us to believe that all is not bad on the Labrador.

Battle Harbor is best known to the American public
through the work of Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, the Labrador
and Newfoundland missionary. It was at this port that
the first hospital was built in 1893, the beginning of a
noble work by a real man. The story of Grenfell's human-
itarian and philanthropic work among the fishermen and
poor whites on this coast would fill volumes. I have
talked with ailing fishermen in their squalid dark cabins,
with 'liveyeres' in their comfortless huts, and know what
a blessing this man and his associates, such as Dr.
Grieves, Dr. Little, Dr. Paddon, and many others, have
been to suffering and needy and ignorant Labrador. Thank
God Americans have realized this and have given gener-
ously to the work.

In the evening we were the guests of the hospital staff
and found them the same congenial and enthusiastic party
as in former years. Dr. Knapp was in charge. At the
request of the hospital we ran electric wires to the loft of
one of Mr. Croucher's fish stores and improvised a motion-
picture theater — the first on the Labrador. Barrels,
boxes, and nets served as seats. Every detail of the six
reels was eagerly followed — a new and wonderful world to
many.

But all was not play and entertainment at Battle Har-
bor. On the top of the highest hill were three holes, the
three points of an equilateral triangle, drilled in the rock.
To the casual observer these were merely holes and had
served their purpose, whatever that may have been. To
Goddard, our magnetic observer, they were more signifi-
cant, for they marked the site of the observation tent of
William J. Peters when doing an important work for the
Carnegie Institution of Washington in 1915. Again, as in
1922, we reoccupied the station, obtaining supplementarySYDNEY TO BATTLE HARBOR 27

data for this most interesting and most valuable branch of
science.

Another of our guests, a staunch friend of the expedition,
Mr. McDonald, reluctantly decided to return home from
here. Charmed with so much of the Labrador as he had
seen, he declared he would certainly return the following
year to meet and greet us when we emerged from the
North. McDonald was a good shipmate. He carried back
with him to the South far more than the contents of his
sailor's bag; he had the friendship of every man on board.CHAPTER III

•DOWN NORTH' ALONG THE LABRADOR

Friday, the 13th, is as good a day as Friday the 12th or
14th; therefore, free from all superstition and while the
fishermen, doctors, and nurses were still asleep, the Bow-
doin stole quietly out of her dock and headed northward
along the forbidding coast. The Cossack of the Boston
Yacht Club had left even earlier. We soon overhauled and
passed her well off shore.

We had already encountered hundreds of icebergs, which
are ever present in waters from Cape Charles northward,
but as yet we had seen no real pack ice, which hugs the
coast throughout the winter and spring months so closely
as to prevent all communication. In fact, there have been
years when the entire coast was blocked during the sum-
mer, namely, 1811,1816,1817,1836,1855,1870, and 1871.
This ice is driven southward by the polar current at the
rate of two and three miles a day, depending largely upon
the force and direction of the wind. To my surprise, forty-
three miles north of Battle Harbor we met the pack ex-
tending from the land indefinitely seaward. We stood off
shore looking for a possible opening, but discovered no
lead of any size through which the Bowdoin could worm
her way northward. I decided to make harbor while the
ice moved southward or off shore with the wind.

This stretch of coast from Cape St. Lewis to Domino
Run is particularly puzzling to one not thoroughly ac-
quainted with its thousands of islands, rocks, ledges, and
deep arms. One expression of my mate, J. C. Small, some
years ago seems entirely fitting: 'God dropped that up-
side down!'

Since there are no lights, buoys, bells, or aids to naviga-DOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR 29

tion of any description, every rock, ledge, and ripple must
be carefully scrutinized and the color of the water noted.
This last is a tremendously important factor in navigating
uncharted waters. I steered for what I thought must be
Comfort Bight, but as we drew nearer a narrow run could
be seen extending right through the harbor into a bay be-
yond. The nearest place of this description was Boulter's
Rock, and such it proved to be. Lowering and furling our
sails, we went in slowly under half power, since it was a
new harbor for me, and anchored in the middle of the
narrow tickle. A few minutes' examination convinced us
that Boulter's Rock was not one of the best harbors on the
Labrador. It is open to the pack and also to northeast
and easterly winds. This opinion was confirmed when
later two Labrador fishing schooners followed us in, and,
having anchored, ran quarter and bow lines to the shore
and pulled in as far as the depth of water would in safety
permit. I soon realized the wisdom of this extra precaution.
Running pans of ice detached from the main pack were
soon bearing down upon us. Few people realize the rock-
like weight and hardness of ice, and its consequent crush-
ing power. Strange to think of ice as a mineral, yet at a
temperature of 32° Fahrenheit it has a hardness of 1.5,
which increases at lower temperatures. In plain words it
is as hard as a mineral known as gypsum. Since its specific
gravity is about 0.92, it floats with a little more than nine
tenths of its bulk submerged. A common-sized pan of ice,
fifty by thirty by thirty, against which a ship bumps,
grinds, and pits her strength day after day, weighs two
million, two hundred and eighty-seven thousand, five
hundred pounds! A symmetrical iceberg, two hundred
and fifty feet long and two hundred feet wide, has the
prodigious weight of five billion pounds! In comparison
with such a weight, the Bowdoin is almost microscopic.
Are we surprised, then, that strong ships, caught between
the relentless jaws of two approaching ice fields, have been30

ETAH AND BEYOND

crushed flat, and even turned completely inside out?
Safety, in the face of such a danger, depends more upon
one's experience and one's judgment than upon the ma-
terial strength or design of the ship.	'

The Cossack, which followed us into the tickle, tried two
anchorages, but finally left altogether for a better harbor
up the bay. On Saturday, July 14th, the ice opened suffi-
ciently to enable us to proceed'northward by way of
Domino Run and Indian Tickle. Thus far, although in the
height of the season, we had seen not more than a dozen
schooners. The absence of a sail, and the inactivity notice-
able at every settlement, indicated a tremendous decline
of the once great fishing industry of Labrador. How dif-
ferent from my first visit fifteen years ago when there were
a thousand vessels on the coast and fifteen thousand trans-
ient fishermen! And in greater contrast the fleet of 1867,
when three thousand vessels were counted sailing through
this same run! In its more prosperous days the total
summer catch of codfish has amounted to six hundred and
fifty thousand quintals!

Upon arriving at the northern end of Indian Tickle
we found an apparently unbroken field of ice stretching
northward from White Point. Realizing that the height of
our crow's-nest or ice barrel was only sixty-five feet above
the deck and our vision extremely limited, I decided to go
on. Owing to the thickness of sea ice, leads are often con-
cealed and what looks like a solid pack is often easily
negotiated. We had no difficulty in covering the twenty
miles to Gready, but, upon arriving in the harbor and in-
tending to berth beside a schooner at the end of McCrea's
dock, we were informed that it would not be safe because
of running ice. That morning a stage head had been de-
stroyed and lay scattered along the shore. We anchored
at Watering Cove just south of the harbor entrance. Here
the holding ground is good, but protection doubtful, since
the Cove is exposed to drift ice and northerly winds. ADOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR SI

view from Wireless Hill revealed Hamilton Inlet ice-
packed to the limit of vision with hardly a glint of open
water.

On Sunday, the 15th, Goddard went into the fishing
station to find if possible the site of an old magnetic station
of forty-two years before. Such stations are generally de-
signated by a hole drilled in the top of a ledge. The par-
ticular one, for which we had minute directions, could not
be found, but, with the help of an old fisherman who well
remembered the visit of the Americans about forty years
ago, another one was found within a few feet of the corner
of the main dwelling-house of the station. Here Goddard
did his work so near to the kitchen that he was invited in
to dinner.

The next day the Seniff, the Labrador mail boat, ar-
rived with a goodly number of shore fishermen going
northward to their stations and also gold prospectors,
excited by reports of gold discovered in Stag Bay. From
the hill we watched the Seniff working through the ice and
knew by her progress that the Bowdoin could do nothing
against such a pack. In the afternoon three fishing schoon-
ers arrived, followed by the auxiliary schooner Sylvia II,
also bound for the gold fields. The entry of the last was a
bit amusing. Long before she could be seen, we could hear
the irregular firing of her engine and the stentorian 'Star-
board' and 'Port.' To our surprise there were at least four
men in the rigging, and to our astonishment all were full-
bearded ! The rather trim-looking schooner and full-
bearded crew were an enigma to us until our visit later
on when we learned that the schooner was a 'fisherman
yacht' and the crew Englishmen, also headed for Stag
Bay. This hitherto little-known and remote spot beyond
Cape Harrison would never hold, nor feed, nor even wel-
come to its inhospitable shores all we met yearning to
reach the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Gready, historically, is replete with interest. Undoubt-32

ETAH AND BEYOND

edly it takes its name from James Gready, one of Cart-
wright's men. In fact, the nomenclature of this whole
section dates back to that most interesting trapper, trader,
settler, and keen sportsman, Captain George Cartwright,
who settled at Ranger Lodge, Charles River, near Cape
Charles, in August, 1770. In 1775 he built another station
on a point of land in Sandwich Bay, naming it Paradise.
He also named Venison Harbor, Venison Island, Devil's
Cove, Eagle River, Separation Point, White Bear River,
Fill-Belly Island, Cartwright River, Cartwright Harbor,
Mount Martin, Collingham Island, and Alexander River.

An excerpt from his intensely fascinating journal re-
published by Dr. Charles Wendell Townsend, of Boston, is
of especial interest to Americans, as it reveals a bit of gen-
erally unknown history of the Revolutionary War:

Wednes., August 26,1778. At three in the afternoon a ship was
discovered to the eastward of the Sisters, standing in for this
place; I sent Mr. Daubeny off to her, in a skiff with four hands,
and soon after perceived, that she had my baitskiff in tow.

Thursday, August 27,1778. At one o'clock this morning, I was
alarmed by a loud rapping at my door, which when I opened, a
body of armed men rushed in; they informed me that they be-
longed to the Minerva privateer, of Boston in New-England,
commanded by John Grimes; mounting twenty nine-pound-
ers, and manned with a hundred and sixty men; and, that I
was their prisoner. They then demanded all my keys, took
possession of both my vessels; also the Otter, then full of goods
which she was going to land from the brig, and of all my stores
which were on shore. About nine, the Minerva worked into
Blackguard Bay, and came to an anchor there. I then went on
board her, and was received with civility by captain Grimes;
who told me that, some days ago, he had entered Temple Bay
and taken three vessels from Noble and Pinson, which he had
filled with fish, and stores from the shore and sent off for Boston.
He said that many of the fishermen had entered with him; among
whom were two men who had lately lived with me, and who had
informed him where I lived. From thence he went to Charles
Harbour, where he had taken one vessel from Mr. Slade, another
from Mr. Seydes, and had plundered my possessions there andWESTERN ENTRANCE TO BATTLE HARBOR

BATTLE HARBOR, LABRADOR. 1	
\	
	
s	
'ifA	2.
;|^1 JKm	3k
	fm

Captain MacMillan; Gilbert H. Grosvenor, President of the National
Geographic Society; and Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, head of the Labrador

mission

Dr. Grenfell at the wheel
ON BOARD THE BOWDOINDOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR 33

at Ranger Lodge; at the former place another man who lived
with me last year, and one of my solmoniers at the latter, had
entered with him. I requested the releasement of Mr. Daubeny,
who was kept prisoner on board, but he would not grant it. He
sent an officer and a party of men in my baitskiff to Caribou
Castle, to plunder there also. The skiff was piloted by that
villain Dominick Kinnien, who went baitmaster of her for the
first time yesterday, and who, together with his whole crew of
six men, had entered with the privateer's people the instant
they got on board. In the course of the day, they shipped what
was in the Otter on board the Countess of Effingham, and in
the evening sent her off for Boston. In going out of the harbour,
they ran her on shore off the low point on the east side, but soon
got her off again, and went to sea through the north-east passage.
In the night I slipped a skiff out of the harbour with four hands,
to inform the boats, and order them to go into North Harbour,
in Table Bay.

Monday, July 12, 1775. At five in the afternoon, James
Gready, and his two hands returned from Charles Harbour in a
sealing-skiff of mine. He informed me, that a small American
privateer of four guns had gone into Twillingate this spring, and
there taken a vessel, laden with old fish, belonging to Mr. Slade
of Poole, and had given all the goods which were in his stores, to
the poor inhabitants of the place; that from thence she had come
to Battle Harbour on this coast, and had taken a sloop of Mr.
Slade's with about twenty-two tuns of seals' oil on board, and
destroyed his goods there; that a good many seals had been killed
on this side of Chateau; but that most of the posts within the
streights had lost the greatest part of their nets, and killed very
few seals. That at my post in Charles Harbour, any number
might have been killed; they were in such plenty. That every
body on this side of Trinity were in the utmost distress for pro-
visions, from the depradations of the privateers, as no vessels had
arrived from England. He informed me likewise, that twelve
men had been lost the last winter upon this coast, by the severity
and badness of the weather; that there were plenty of codfish to
the southward, but no salt; as no other vessel but Slade's sloop
had yet arrived. He also told me, that John Baskem had taken
possession of my salmon-post at Port Marnham, and that all my
houses in, and near Charles Harbour had been broken open and
plundered by the English crews in that Neighbourhood; that
Coghlan's crew at Sandhill Cove had killed above a hundred
tierces of salmon, and had still strong fishing.34

ETAH AND BEYOND

Friday, August 20, 1779. At one this morning, I was greatly
alarmed by one of my people knocking at my door, and telling
me, that I was taken again; for that a stout ship was an anchor
in Blackguard Bay, and her boat was gone to take possession of
my ship. On opening the door, I saw her riding abreast of my
house. I immediately ran out, without stocking or shoe, to hide
some guns; sending the man to do the same by my plate. On
returning to the house for more, I found an officer in possession of
it; but he soon relieved me from my fears by informing me, that
the ship was his majesty's sloop of war, Marten, commanded by
Thomas Durell, Esq. At the same time he delivered me a letter
from his captain, and another from John Becher of London Esq.
He then returned on board, and I to bed again; but the alarm
had put my spirits into such an agitation, that I could not close
my eyes. At six o'clock I went on board the Marten to pay my
respects to captain Durell; soon after, she got under weigh, and
captain Kinloch piloted her into the harbour; where she moored.
I shipped two hogshead of furs on board the Marten, to be carried
to St. John's for fear of accidents here, and spent the day on
board with her captain. I sent a man out a deer shooting, upon
the Cape land, but he saw none.

Saturday, August 21, 1779. Captain Durell was so obliging
as to give me the assistance of some of his people, who put a new
mainmast and boom into the Beaver, and did some work on the
Countess of Effingham; also the captain and his purser dined,
and spent most of the day with me. The boats came in at night
without a fish; and it was a double mortification to me, to re-
flect that much about this time last year, when I was visited by
that accursed privateer, I had venison, curlews, and other good
things in the greatest plenty; but, now, when friends were come,
I had not one morsel of anything but salted provisions to set be-
fore them; the weather likewise was too bad to get anything.

Tuesday, July 17th, was disagreeable — thick fog and
raining. We visited the Sylvia II, owned by Major But-
ler, and were heartily welcomed and entertained by him and
his genial associates. We found the craft to be a modified
fisherman, built in Newfoundland of soft wood as usual,
but somewhat reenforced for ice work by iron sheathing
for'ard. Her quarters, especially her main cabin, were very
comfortable. She is an auxiliary with a 35 H.P. Lathrop,DOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR 35

Later in the day Major Butler returned our visit bringing
with him his pocket chronometer for correction by our
nightly time signal from Annapolis, U.S.A.

At three-thirty the next morning we were on our way,
working out into the pack of Eskimo Bay, now known as
Hamilton Inlet, named after Sir Charles Hamilton, Gov-
ernor of Newfoundland, by Captain William Martin. At a
point near the Bird Rocks, sixteen miles from Gready, we
found the pack unbroken and desisted from further at-
tempts. With an ice anchor we rode to the edge of a floe
awaiting a change in conditions which must inevitably
occur with wind and tide. A black dot in the ice field well
astern indicated that the Sylvia II was attempting to
follow us. She arrived in two hours and moored to the
same pan. Evidently Major Butler and crew were con-
siderably worried over the outlook and a besetment, for
within an hour after breaking their tiny ice anchor the
Sylvia II squared away to leeward for shelter in a neigh-
boring harbor. From our ice barrel I could see evidence of
a slow change, and now and then caught the glint of open
water, sufficiently encouraging for us to make a second
attempt. At 5.30 p.m. we were at anchor in front of Dr.
Grenfell's hospital at Indian Harbor on the north shore of
the Inlet. Dr. Paddon and his assistants came on board at
once to bid us welcome and to do everything possible to
render our visit enjoyable.

I never fail to drop anchor in this comfortable little
bight with its black, serrated border of jagged trap, cap-
ping what geologists term Domino quartzite. The whole
setting is of interest — Charlie Jerritt's white-painted
fishing station; the buildings of the Deep Sea Mission;
Pomeroy's Island, and in the distance the wireless pole
of Smoky Tickle, from which Peary sent his now famous
telegram,' Stars and Stripes nailed to the Pole,' the begin-
ning of a most unfortunate and bitter controversy. Local
interest is also heightened by a knowledge of the fact that36

ETAH AND BEYOND

here Sir Leopold McClintock, famous Arctic explorer,
anchored in H.M.S. Bulldog on August 24, 1860. He was
at that time engaged in surveying a route for a North
Atlantic telegraph between Great Britain and America.

At ten the next morning we were again on our way,
passing through Cut-Throat Tickle and up for the White
Cockade inside of Coffee Island. By 5.30 p.m. we had
covered the forty-five miles to Cape Harrison. A strong
southerly wind with portending black clouds on the
southern and western horizon induced me to anchor here
for the night. The name of our anchorage was not in the
least encouraging in the event of bad weather — Wreck
Bay. With the wind from this quarter, however, nothing
need be feared, therefore, I dropped quickly to sleep.

The patter of rain on the cabin house and the lapping
of water against the quarter of the Bowdoin brought me to
my feet about midnight. The wind had changed to north-
east and we were on a lee shore. Although dark as a pocket,
we must move and move at once. All hands were called
and within a few minutes were on deck in oil clothes. I de-
cided to run over under the lee of Webeck Island, about a
mile to windward. With no lights of any kind to guide us,
outlying rocks both on starboard and port, and such
darkness that the shores of the island could not be seen,
it was not an enviable job. Fortunately before going
to bed I had noted compass bearings. To stop to sound
would result in a drifting from the straight course, but
sound we must. Twice we sounded and twice I put the
Bowdoin back on her uncertain course. When Webeck
looked like a great black wall directly over the bow, we
"let go' in five fathoms. I ordered the mate to give the
Bowdoin thirty fathoms and turned in.

At daybreak we discovered that we were slightly out of
position and changed to a more secure anchorage in the
event of a bad easterly. Hanging to our stern through the
night was a small power boat also equipped with sailsDOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR 37

■— three more gold-seekers from Newfoundland in a vain
search for the world of riches. One of the three proudly
displayed a small piece of gold-bearing quartz — undoubt-
edly gold, but this, I learned, was brought from the interior
by a Montagnais Indian.

With heavy weather outside, a day here would not be
wasted. Robinson, McCue, and Jaynes planned a hunting
trip into Rocky Bay, since we were in need of fresh meat.
They returned at night with a young seal and two trout, so
small they were really a curiosity. Saturday, the 21st, was
not promising, but start we must with fifteen hundred and
more miles to go. Anchor was up at 2 a.m. With southerly
wind and rain we headed northwest past the Ragged
Islands, Kidlialuit, Uigoklialuit, and Cape Makkovik, and
laid a course through the ledges for West Turnavik, the
fishing station of the Bartletts, anchoring in the punch-
bowl of a harbor at 9 a.m. The Labrador mail boat, Seniff,
arrived a few hours later, here to await the arrival of the
southern mail boat, Sagona, for a transfer of mail, pas-
sengers, coal, and supplies.

I had been in Turnavik many times, but never long
enough to test the truth of a prevailing rumor and Eskimo
tradition, that here the Norsemen landed and lived for
a time. The name given to the island would lend to the
tradition a semblance of truth; for the Norsemen were
known to the Eskimos as 'Tunit,' a people who came from
distant lands in their large open boats. The derivation of
the word admits of two solutions. 'Tunnu' means in the
Eskimo language 'back.' The Norsemen were described
by the Eskimos as people having broad flat backs; hence
possibly the application of the term. The natives of Baffin
Land informed me that the Tunit were in the habit of
living on the inward side of the island or point of land, on
the opposite side from them; therefore, they were called
'Tunit.'

The 'Tunit' of Labrador sounds suspiciously like the38

ETAH AND BEYOND

'Tornit' of Greenland, a multitude of evil spirits, really
the very heart, or foundation, of the primitive religion of
the Eskimo race. Such are ever present and are conse-
quently ever feared. Since these spirits live in out-of-way,
inaccessible, and especially wild-looking places, the 'Tunit9
of Labrador are not to be accepted as the traditional
Norsemen until a thorough investigation has been made.
Tunnivik, or Turnivik, where we were anchored, trans-
lated, means the 'place of the Tunit.' What evidence is
there that the Norsemen once inhabited this island?

Tom Evans, a local character, volunteered as guide.
Passing up a tiny valley, we arrived at a mass of accumu-
lated debris at the base of an inferior cliff, such as might
be caused by the action of frost in the spring of the year.
Beneath this there was one very good natural cave which
had unmistakable signs of having been inhabited, in that
the roof was blackened by soot and evidence of a fire still
remained. Within twenty feet there was a second cave
formed in practically the same way, but somewhat enlarged
by a built-up wall of rocks. As to these caves being Norse-
men dwellings, there is nothing certain. Both caves might
have been built by a wrecked ship's crew or by fishermen
or Eskimos who had lost their boat.

) A regular 'northeaster' on Sunday, July 22d, kept us
in port. Here we lost another member of our party, the
last of our guests, Mr. Sheldon Fairbanks. He had thor-
oughly enjoyed the trip and hated to leave as much as we
disliked to see him start homeward by the next south-
bound boat.

By eight the next morning we were at full speed for the
Eskimo village of Hopedale. The way is beset with bad
ledges and several dangerous underwater rocks. The chart
is of no aid whatever, everything north of Indian Harbor
being imperfectly surveyed. Anticipating such a trip as
the one on which I was now engaged, I had spent three
summers in these very waters to acquire a knowledge ofDOWN NORTH ALONG THE LABRADOR 39

the coast. On the passage we met one boatload of my old
Eskimo friends, who recognized the Bowdoin and de-
viated from their course to yell cheery greetings. By one
o'clock we were at anchor in front of the Moravian Mission
Station, the American flag snapping at our main truck in
honor of that devoted band of men who had given so many
years of labor to the natives of the coast. When Jens
Haven, Moravian missionary, stretched out his hands to
the Eskimos at Carpunt with the words, 'I have long de-
sired to see you! I am your countryman and friend!' it was
an epochal event in the history of these people. Up to
that time life was not safe on the Labrador. Whites were
plundered and murdered and in retaliation Eskimos were
shot as wild animals.

The work of the Moravians has never ceased from that
day. Through the storms of the North Atlantic and
through the drift ice of the Labrador their ships have per-
sisted on their way. Not a year has been missed. Not a
ship has been lost. Their trials are little known. The long
and persistent fight of the Moravian has been waged not
so much against sin and for the salvation of souls, as
against the encroachments of civilization with its evil
practices and particularly its malignant diseases: small-
pox in 1774; violent vomiting and profuse sweats in 1825;
measles in 1828; malignant influenza in 1842; famine in
1846; whooping-cough in 1876; whooping-cough and
measles in 1880 and 1882; typhoid and syphilis in 1894;
and the great influenza in 1919 which actually exterminated
whole villages.

Such is but a very small part of the history of the
struggle to keep and perpetuate the Labrador Eskimo.
To-day there are six stations, namely, Nain founded in
1771; Okak in 1776; Hopedale in 1781; Hebron in 1829;
Ramah (now discontinued) in 1871; Makkovik in 1900;
and Killinik in 1905. The Eskimos have dwindled in
numbers from a possible three thousand to eight hundred.40

ETAH AND BEYOND

Largely a half-breed race now, with the coming years its
identity will disappear entirely, merging into the great
white race.

Mr. Perritt, general superintendent of the Moravian
Mission Stations on the coast, was away at Makkovik,
the southern station. We were warmly greeted, however,
by Mrs. Perritt, a friend of many years' standing. To her
we entrusted the charge of a new radio set presented by
Mr. Jones, of Boston, a visitor to the coast the preceding
year. In the evening we had the pleasure of entertaining
with motion pictures as many Eskimos and whites as
could be packed into the forecastle of the Bowdoin. All
were intensely interested in the wonderful pictures and
especially in the work of the more northern Eskimos.

As a commentary on the initiative and enterprise of our
own early fishermen, it is of interest to learn that the first
Americans arrived here as early as 1822. But prior to this,
even before we won our Independence, Captain Charles
Swayne of Philadelphia, while searching in the ship Argo
for the Northwest Passage, visited and explored the Lab-
rador and Baffin Land coasts from 56° to 65° North Lati-
tude in 1753. The earliest visit of which there is any record
is that of Captain Henry Atkins, of Boston, in 1729. On
the passage home from Davis Strait, whither he had gone
in pursuit of the whale, he called at several places on the
Labrador coast and traded with the Eskimos. Here is
another feather in the cap of the adventuresome New
England sea captain, who seems to have gone practically
to all parts of the known world.Noo-ka-ping-wa

TWO DOG-DRIVERS

Abram BromfieldCAPTAIN ROSS'S FIRST MEETING WITH THE NATIVES OF PRINCE REGENT'S BAY, AUGUST 10, 1818
Drawn by John Sacheuse, an Eskimo who had visited ScotlandCHAPTER IV

WE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF THE NORSEMEN

On Tuesday we headed northward through Black Head and
Windy Tickle for Jack Lane's Bay, where Abram Brom-
field was again to join us as interpreter and dog-driver.
In emerging from the northern entrance to Windy Tickle
we found the water so shoal that it was a foregone con-
clusion we should never get through on the dead low water,
since this run was charted at nine feet. The Bowdoin was
drawing ten! The dead low is the opportune time for
navigating any uncertain bottom, since grounding means
but a short delay. I therefore from the crow's-nest kept
the Bowdoin on her course, deviating now and then to
avoid a suspicious 'hump' or boulder. To my surprise we
sailed out into the clear blue water of Davis Inlet.

Davis Inlet, named after the great English explorer,
John Davis, has undoubtedly been confused in the minds
of geographers with one described by Davis when he
cruised southward along the coast in July and August of
1588. Just where he landed will never be known, but of a
certainty it was not at Davis Inlet. In latitude 56° (eight
miles north of Davis Inlet) he arrived at a good harbor
and 'sailed ten leagues into the same, being two leagues
broad with very fayre woods on both sides. I landed and
went sixe miles by ghesse into the country and found that
the woods were firre, pineapple (!!), alder, yew, withy and
birch; here we saw a blacke bare; this place yieldeth great
store of birds. Of the partridge and pezunt we killed so
great store with bowe and arrows; in this place at the har-
bourough mouth we found great store of cod.' Although
that was three hundred and thirty-seven years ago, every-
thing mentioned is still here but the pineapple!42

ETAH AND BEYOND

A league is three miles; therefore, Davis sailed up the
inlet he describes for thirty miles and found it to be six
miles wide. Davis Inlet is seven miles long and one mile
wide, in fact one of the smallest inlets on this whole stretch
of coast. The largest inlet in this vicinity is in 56° 18',
known as Lessingabssoak among the Eskimos and among
the whites.

We then turned to the left and headed up Kangiksualuk
or Big Bay. From afar the Bromfields had recognized the
Bowdoin and were anxious to learn whether we were to
remain there for the year or proceed northward. We
decided to remain here for the night to give Abram an
opportunity to arrange for a year's absence. Heavens,
the mosquitoes! But being no strangers to Labrador, we
fully expected the most direful onslaught and were not
pleasantly disappointed.

At 5 p.m. on July 25th, we left our anchorage and pro-
ceeded out of the bay and out to sea, which we found
packed with drift ice. When crossing Davis Inlet Run a
small boat was descried dead ahead with a coat spread on
two crossed oars to attract our attention. Evidently we
were wanted. I slowed down, and as we came up along-
side one of the two men delivered to us a pair of sun
glasses which I had left in the wireless station at Battle
Harbor. The operator there had requested Captain
Burgess, of the Sagona, bound north, to return them to
me if he should happen to overtake the Bowdoin. The
Sagona reached Turnavik the day after we left. The
glasses were given to the captain of the Seniff with the
same request. The Seniff was then at anchor in Windy
Tickle, and, suspecting that we could be intercepted on our
exit from Jack Lane's Bay, the mate and a fireman had
rowed on and were awaiting us. I cite this simply as one of
many cases of kindness experienced on this coast.

In two hours' time we had worked through the pack to
seaward. The Labrador coast dropped lower and lower.WE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 43

At last only the Kiglipaits and old Cape Mugford re-
mained, and soon we were alone heading for the Estotiland
(Greenland) of the old explorers, possibly in the same track
and on the same course as that sailed by Leif, son of Eric
the Red, on his return from Vinland to Greenland, some
four hundred years before Columbus discovered America,
if the sagas are to be believed. But how striking the con-
trast between ships and equipment! The clinker-built,
undecked boats, ill-fitted for the relentless ice pack; no
power, no charts, no sextant, no chronometers, and not
even a compass! The Bowdoin with white pine water-
tight decks, white-oak timbered and planked, sheathed
with ironwood, reenforced for'ard with steel sheathing,
60 H.P. oil engine, comfortable cabins, electrically
lighted, in communication with the world through wire-
less, best of charts, best of sextants, finest of chronometers,
and spirit compasses corrected for deviation to the tenth
of a point!

How did these daring Vikings of the Northern seas find
their way from shore to shore? They didn't! In the light of
facts their feeble efforts at real navigating are ludicrous.
Iceland was discovered accidentally by ships blown out
of their beaten track to the Faroe Islands. Greenland was
discovered by ships blown from Iceland. America was
discovered by ships blown from their track to Greenland. ,

Naddodd the Viking sailed from Norway, his destina-
tion the Faroe Islands. He landed in Iceland! The Nor-
wegian Gunnbjorn, son of Ulf Kraka, sailed from Norway
for Iceland. He discovered Greenland. Seventy-five ships
sailed from Iceland for Greenland. Only fourteen arrived.
Leif Ericson sailed from Greenland for Norway. He
landed in the Hebrides. He sailed from Norway for Green-
land and landed somewhere in America, it is believed, but
just where no one knows.

We learn something of the Norsemen's crude methods
from the saga of Hauksbok and Sturlubok, narrating44

ETAH AND BEYOND

the experiences of Floki Vilgerdarson: 'Folki then sailed
to the Faroe and there gave his daughter in marriage.
From her is come Sevnd in Gata. Thence he sailed out to
sea with three ravens. . . . And when he let loose the first
it flew back astern. The second flew up into the air and
back to the ship. The third flew forward over the prow,
where they found land.'

With great interest we learn that they did use the
sounding lead: 'Then certain Norsemen, namely Ingolf
and Hjorleif, fled thither from their native land, being
guilty of homicide, . .. and resorted to this island, which
was first discovered by Gardar and afterwards by another
and found it at last by probing the waves with a lead'

When sun and stars could not be seen, the Norsemen
wandered aimlessly, not knowing whither to go. That
their landfalls were uncertain was to be expected.

Even John Cabot, as late as 1497, states that he sailed
around the mouth of Iceland and for the new world 4 with
the Pole Star on his right hand.' No one knows to-day
where he landed and what land he really discovered. It
was probably Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, or Labrador.
From the southern point of the first to the northern point
of the last is a matter of four hundred miles of latitude!
Martin Frobisher discovered Frobisher Bay in 1576.
Upon this land the Queen bestowed the name of ' Meta
Incognita/ It remained a 'Meta Incognita' for two hun-
dred and seventy-four years. This was placed upon the
maps as being upon the east coast of Greenland and here it
remained for two hundred and eighty-four years. When
found by Charles Francis Hall in 1860, it was in Baffin
Land over seven hundred miles to the west! You will
remember that the Pilgrim Fathers sailed for Virginia.
Their landfall was Cape Cod, a mistake of three hundred
miles in latitude!

So one might go on indefinitely. Frisland was Green-
land; Greenland was Labrador; Labrador was Newfound-WE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 45

land; Newfoundland was joined to the West Indies; the
West Indies were a part of India; Baffin Land was a part
of Asia; the St. Lawrence River led to Cipango (Japan).
All was a confused jumble and so distorted in shape, due
to an ignorance of magnetic variation, that only a genius
with a vivid imagination can solve the riddle.

At 10.30 p.m. the fog was so thick that I took the pre-
cautionary measure of stopping our engine and jogging
along slowly under sail until daylight. We were not yet
clear of the track of icebergs brought down by the polar
current which hugs the eastern shores of Baffin Land and
Labrador. The fact has long been recognized by Arctic
men that the eastern waters of a channel, strait, or sea,
lying north and south, are invariably most favorable for
navigation. While its waters are entirely free of ice, the
western waters and coast are completely blocked. Is this
due to the eastward revolution of the earth upon its axis?
This seems to be the only plausible explanation. There-
fore, this was my reason for heading northeast toward the
Greenland shore and not due north for Baffin Land. Once
through the Labrador pack, theoretically we should en-
counter no more ice until we were within fifty miles or so
of Greenland. This ice is of an entirely different nature
from the polar ice that comes southward along the eastern
shores of Greenland, at from five to fifteen miles a day,
circles around Cape Farewell and flows northward to
about latitude 64°, or to a point twenty miles south of
Godthaab, our objective point.

A knowledge of this current has been existent for the
last six hundred and seventy-four years! In the 'King's
Mirror/ published about 1250, we find the following:

Now in that same sea (i.e., the Greenland sea) there are yet
many more marvells, even though they cannot be accounted for
witchcraft (Shrimslum). So soon as the greater part of the sea
has been traversed, there is found such a mass of ice as I know
not the like of anywhere else in the world. This ice (i.e., the ice-46

ETAH AND BEYOND

floes) is some of it as flat as if it had frozen on the sea itself, four
or five cubits thick, and lies so far from land (i.e., from the east
coast of Greenland) that men may have four or five days' jour-
ney across the ice (to land). But this ice lies off the land rather
to the north-east (Landnorr) or north than to the south, south-
west, or west; and therefore anyone wishing to make the land
should sail round it (i.e., round Cape Farewell) in a south-
westerly and westerly direction, until he is past the danger of
(encountering) all this ice, and then sail thence to land. But it
has constantly happened that men have tried to make the land
too soon, and so have been involved in these ice-floes; and some
have perished in them; but others again have got out, and we
have seen some of these and heard their tales and reports. But
one course was adopted by all who have found themselves in-
volved in this ice-drift (isavok or isavalkit), that is, they have
taken their small boats and drawn them up on to the ice with
them, and have thus made for land, but their ship and all their
other goods have been left behind and lost; and some of them
have passed four or five days on the ice before they reached land,
and some even longer. These ice-floes are strange in their nature;
sometimes they lie as still as might be expected, separated by
creeks or large fjords; but sometimes they move with as great
rapidity as a ship with a fair wind, and when once they are under
way they travel against the wind as often as with it. There are,
indeed, some masses of ice in that sea of another shape, which
the Greenlanders call 'falljokla.' Their appearance is that of a
high mountain rising out of the sea, and they do not unite them-
selves to other masses of ice, but keep apart.

The fog lifted at 2 a.m. on Thursday the 26th. Fair
wind still continued. At midnight we had covered three
hundred and sixteen miles of our six hundred to Green-
land. Friday evening, beginning to meet floe bergs, we
knew that we were in the stream belt contiguous to that
coast. Jaegers, both parasitic (Stercorarius parasiticus),
and long-tailed (S. longicaudus), were constantly follow-
ing and hovering over us. At four the next morning land
was 'close aboard.' The wind was now ahead and had
been heading us for some time, causing us to fall to lee-
ward of our course. Standing off on the starboard tack IWE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 47

♦

examined the shore minutely with the glass and descried
a deep bay, the entrance of which was well studded with
breaking reefs. According to our sights, which had checked
up our dead reckoning, this must be the southern run
to Godthaab, which lies between Simiutak and Ikatok.
Upon a near approach a wooden marker was discovered
upon a prominent point, which strengthened our opinion.
A snug little haven opened out on the southern side of a
large island on the port hand. Here we anchored to ex-
plore our surroundings a bit and find Godthaab if possible.

Greenland and Labrador, with their perfect maze of
outlying islands forming a network of runs and inlets, are
extremely perplexing to a navigator entering upon the
coast for the first time without the aid of a native pilot.
I well remember an incident of my earlier days when I
endeavored to locate an Eskimo village by the hoped-for
howling of its dogs at night. They slept; I failed to find it.

It may be of interest to note that our landfall in the
Bowdoin was near the Gilbert Sound of John Davis, who
in 1585 really rediscovered Greenland, which had been
4 buried in oblivion for more than two centuries/ The
reception of this stranger, the first white to appear among
them following the disappearance or total extinction of
the Norsemen, affords us a true picture of the character of
the Innuit or Eskimo race prior to the advent of the mis-
sionary and civilization.

In refutation of statements made by certain well-known
explorers as to the superiority of Eskimo morals and cus-
toms over our own and as to the expressed hope that civili-
zation might never be the lot of their favorite tribe, an even
cursory study of the works of our earliest explorers will
suffice to prove that such a comparison, if it can be called
such, is mere nonsense. Without exception, all early
travelers found all Eskimo tribes to be thieving, lying,
immoral, unmoral, and filthy. This is a strong statement,
but it must be made in the interest of truth as much as I48

ETAH AND BEYOND

admire the character of my many Eskimo friends who
have traveled with me for thousands of miles, and have
shared with me the dangers and privations as well as the
pleasures and contentment of the Northland.

Where were we? Ascending a neighboring hill I scanned
the shores of the numerous islands and the mainland
minutely with my binoculars for the least sign of habita-
tion. Within a few minutes I descried a neat little red-
roofed village dominated by a church spire snuggling over
against the mainland, distant possibly three miles. God-
dard was immediately recalled from his magnetic work and
the boys from their rambling over the hills.

We proceeded through the islands under power to a
point opposite the settlement, which proved to be Narssak,
a sub-station of Godthaab, five miles to the northward.
The ever-watchful eyes of the natives had discovered the
Bowdoin when well down the channel. Two trim-looking
kayaks shot up alongside. The occupants, plainly half-
breed Eskimos, volunteered to act as pilots through the
intricate run to the capital of the district. This short trip
was of especial interest to me for many reasons. First,
because it was the so-called 'inside run,' an entering by
the back door, so to speak. Second, because of the extreme
ruggedness of the great granitic hills and peaks towering
above our decks for thousands of feet, absolutely wild-
looking in their character, easily imagined to be the fitting
abodes of the evil spirits of the natives, the many tales and
traditions concerning which we can readily conceive to
have been real to primitive man. And, third, because of
the rich historical background of the locality, possibly
the wealthiest in all Greenland.

With much interest we peered into the deep Ameralik
Fiord, bordered with its abrupt rock walls, and imagined
Fridtjof Nansen and Sverdrup thirty-five years before in
their crude brush-canvas boat pulling vigorously seaward
at the finish of their daring forty-five days' journey acrossHEADING FOR GREENLAND SIX HUNDRED MILES AWAY

ICEBERGS OFF DISCOTHE BOWDOIN ENTERING THE GODTHAAB FIORDWE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 49

the great Greenland ice cap. And at the head of this fiord
were also the remains of the ' Westerbygd' of the lost Norse
colony of the tenth century. How I longed to investigate
the ninety homesteads in this and neighboring fiords! The
cause of their total disappearance has long been a matter
of conjecture. Did the occupants migrate to Baffin Land
or the Labrador and were they exterminated by the hostile
natives? Or did they incur the enmity of the 'Skraelings'
in this vicinity? There is still a tradition here of a feud
and the extermination of the last hated 'Kabloonak' or
white man. The most rational explanation is an inter-
breeding of the two races, the superiority in numbers of
the natives, a loss of identity and complete disappearance
of the visitors. Such could readily be accomplished during
the six hundred years' interval between their settlement in
Greenland (980) and the visit of John Davis in 1585.
King Christian IV of Norway dispatched an expedition
in 1605 and also again in 1606 in search of the Osterbygden
or Eastern Settlement and the Vesterbygden or Western
Settlement. Not a trace of the two thousand people was
found; not even their homes, now known to be in the
district of Julianehaab and Godthaab.

Beyond the Ameralik Fiord the scenery was on an even
grander scale. Above our heads towered the Hiorte Tak,
or Stag's Horn, a peak 3900 feet in height. Over the bow
across the Kangerdluarssuk Fiord were two others, one
2000, the other 2496 feet, the horns of the well-known
Saalberg or Saddle Hill. Seen at a distance of a hundred
miles at sea, this mountain serves as a beacon to navi-
gators, and also as a barometer or weather guide to the
natives, for when bad weather threatens, like many
another mountain along this coast, it displays its white
flag, a clinging cloud or light mist. The impressive gran-
deur of the coast exceeded even that of northern Labrador.
We seemed and felt fairly microscopic as we crept along
at the base of these great black sentinels of the North,50

ETAH AND BEYOND

the same that looked out upon the Norsemen nine hundred
and forty-two years ago, upon the three ships of John
Davis in 1585-86-87, upon Bylot's tiny Discovery in 1616,
upon brave Hans Egede entering Baal's River in 1721,
upon American, Norwegian, English, and Scotch whale-
men and upon English, American, and Norwegian ex-
plorers. There they will remain through the ages, ponder-
ing over the ambition of man.

As we rounded the northern point of Kangerdluarssuk
Fiord and headed for Nuk (Godthaab), the three masts of
a ship were discovered projecting above a rocky point.
Having studied the chart I recognized the location as the
back harbor of Godthaab, and decided to anchor there
rather than at the village itself, where the harbor is ex-
posed to northerly winds and currents.

The rounding of the point disclosed what appeared to
be a British tramp steamer, flying a Danish flag, unloading
coal into lighters. The point itself resembled an antheap,
with its huge pile of coal and scurrying Eskimo men,
women, and children, all black with coal dust. As the
Bowdoin popped into view every coal basket was dropped,
and there was a scampering to the back of the point to
get a better view of the stranger. A wild yell of delight
greeted our entrance. Was it simply a demonstration of
exuberance of spirits, in spite of the fact that they were
working hard at a coal pile, or was it the force of habit of
greeting their own ships laden with the goods of civiliza-
tion? Since the crews of ships are not allowed on shore
and Eskimos are forbidden to board ships, this greeting
was the more surprising.

As it was the purpose of the expedition to establish as
many new magnetic stations as possible and also to re-
occupy former stations, Goddard began his work promptly
the next morning on a small island one hundred and fifty
yards distant. The results derived from such study are
of great value in ascertaining the horizontal and verticalWE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 51

intensity of the earth's magnetism, especially in considera-
tion of the fact that very little work of this character has
been attempted in the Far North.

During the day, the Governor of Godthaab, Mr.
Christian Simony, accompanied by a Miss Blickfelt to
serve as interpreter, came on board the Bowdoin to in-
quire as to our purpose in visiting the port.

Denmark has a treaty with other nations, so remarkable
in many ways that it deserves publication in a work of
this kind as desirable information for yachtsmen or
tourists contemplating a trip to Greenland.

The General Manager of the colonies in Greenland makes
known:

According to the regulations recognized by treaties made be-
tween the Royal Danish Government and the United States of
America, Great Britain, France, Belgium, Sweden, Norway,
and other states, all the coasts of Greenland and all adjacent is-
lands are closed to navigation to foreign vessels (as well as to
Danish vessels), unless special permission has been obtained from
the Danish Government which holds the monopoly of trade in
Greenland.

According to Danish law, any vessel sailing to Greenland
without leave shall be liable to be seized, wherever met with, and
the vessel and cargo to be forfeited. Similar punishment may be
applied where any person is found trading with Greenlanders or
Danish Colonists from any vessel lying in any port of Greenland
or off the said coast.

Any shipmaster compelled by shipwreck or similar cause to
seek refuge in any port of Greenland shall remain in port only as
long as is absolutely necessary, and he shall obey any order given
him by the local authorities.

At the same time the shipmaster shall be held further liable if
any of his crew without necessity remain on shore at places that
are permanently or temporarily inhabited, or if they carry on
any trade with the natives, or if they hold any intercourse what-
ever with this native population.

Watering without special leave in Greenland ports on the
aforesaid coasts and islands by vessels, including whalers,
whether Danish or foreign, shall take place only at the colony of
Holstensborg in South Greenland, at the colony of Upernavik52

ETAH AND BEYOND

and the settlement of Godhaven in North Greenland. A ship-
master is subject to the following conditions:

That any shipmaster when proceeding on his voyage to
Greenland shall be provided with a Bill of Health from the local
authorities of the port of departure, the said Bill of Health to
contain a statement not only as regards the general state of
health at the port of departure, but also as regards the health of
each separate person on board, proved by a medical examination
of the whole crew (especially as regards venereal and other con-
tagious diseases.) The said Bill of Health must be viseed by the
Royal Danish Consul or Vice-Consul (if any) at the port of de-
parture.

On arrival of the vessel at any of the aforesaid watering places,
whichever is first, the said Bill of Health shall be delivered by the
shipmaster to the Superintendent of the Colony, together with
a bona fide declaration signed by the shipmaster to the effect
that since the day of departure of the vessel from the port where
she received her Bill of Health to the best of his knowledge no case
of any contagious disease has occurred on board, nor any case of
venereal disease has occurred among the crew. If the vessel
carries a surgeon, a certificate from this officer in lieu of the
said declaration may be delivered.

The Superintendent of the Colony receiving the said declara-
tion or medical certificate shall give the shipmaster a certificate
acknowledging the receipt, which shall be produced as legitima-
tion by the said shipmaster before any other Greenland author-
ity with whom he may have to deal on the same voyage.

If there be any contagious disease on board any vessel, the
Greenland authorities shall take all necessary measures to pre-
vent the disease from spreading among the native population
and may order the vessel to proceed to another watering place.
The shipmaster shall at once obey all orders given him by the
said authorities.

In order to avoid the spreading of any disease it shall be pro-
hibited to dispose of or sell any used wearing apparel, used bed
clothes and similar things to the native population of Greenland
or to the Danish Colonists.

The prohibition against navigating on Greenland and the
monopoly of trade purport to protect the native population of
Greenland which would be threatened with ruin in case conta-
gious diseases should spread among them, or in case it should
be permitted to import alcoholic drinks or similar goods.

The foregoing orders and regulations of the General ManagerWE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 53

are conclusive upon all vessels navigating on Greenland and
watering, etc. in the aforesaid ports.

^ Copenhagen, 16th June, 1921.

Having known for years that such were the conditions
imposed upon a visiting ship, I had obtained through the
Carnegie Institution of Washington, special privileges
for the Bowdoin. Although having no official papers from
the Danish Government, we were accorded every courtesy
and the 'Keys of the City,' so to speak.

On Sunday night we invited Governor Simony and his
wife, and other Danes in Godthaab, on board the Bowdoin
to see several reels of motion pictures, the first ever shown
in Greenland. All were astonished that on such a small
ship we should have such excellent facilities for providing
an evening's entertainment. This was made possible by
our electric equipment and compact portable projectors.

Monday was a full day. The Danes of Godthaab were
so hospitable that we all felt that we should like to be
nearer to our hosts. Therefore we got under way and pro-
ceeded under power to an anchorage directly in front of
the Chief Inspector's house and but a few yards from the
public landing-place. Invitations to luncheons and dinners
were so readily and gladly accepted that we were con-
siderably embarrassed upon learning that we were ex-
pected at two places at the same time; but not more so
than a charming Danish lady who by chance happened to
learn that we had accepted her invitation to dinner or
supper (we didn't know which) when she had extended no
invitation at all. One needs a secretary in Greenland as
well as at home! To relieve the all-round embarrassment,
Mrs. Nissen, the wife of a teacher in the University, in-
sisted upon our coming to her home at three o'clock for
both dinner and lunch. Accordingly we passed from one
room into the other, each of which contained a table fully
spread.

At six o'clock we were eating again as guests of Mr. and54

ETAH AND BEYOND

Mrs. Balle, of the Godthaab University. To find such a
well-equipped school with such a varied course of study
almost within the shadow of the Arctic Circle was indeed
a surprise. The most promising young men of the various
settlements are selected to be trained here as teachers and
ministers for their own countrymen.

Invitations to all the children in this Eskimo-Danish
village to be aboard the Bowdoin at four-forty-five were
broadcast through the streets. They came in boats loaded
to the gunwales, dressed beautifully in what is now their
national costume — wide lace and beaded collars, a
brightly colored checked upper garment, soft glossy
sealskin tight-fitting knee pants, and red-and-white boots
of almost elaborate workmanship. Bright-tinted dyes are
used largely in coloring their sealskins, the resulting orna-
mental effect being most striking. A beautifully dressed
woman resembles an impressionistic view of a miniature
garden of bright-colored flowers, all blending harmoniously.

When these Eskimo children, eagerly expectant of
something novel, were all tightly squeezed into our fore-
castle, we shut out the light and flashed on the pictures,
a reel of varied scenes in the United States and abroad.
Their absorbing interest was of far more interest to me
than any movie I had ever seen. And their outlook upon
life was broader from that day on! Already they had seen
pictures of horses, elephants, tigers, etc., but these were
alive, moving, working, eating! And here were American
youngsters, laughing, talking, playing! These scenes took
them far away from 'Greenland's Icy Mountains' to
the great sunny world to the south, with its immense
activity. What a pleasure to bring pleasure to little ones
in such remote places!

In the evening we were invited to the school gymnasium
to a typical Greenland ball, such as I had read about in
books of Arctic exploration. It was certainly a novel scene
of whirling color and intense activity. The dances, mostlyWE FOLLOW THE ROAD OF NORSEMEN 55

round, and now national, are a strange conglomeration of
Eskimo, English, and Danish, the chief features of which
were introduced by the English-Scotch sailors of the great
whaling fleets of 1818-98. The memorable thing about it
all was the exuberant vivacity and the rapidity of motion
of the trim-looking half-breed girls. Their dress, ideal for
dancing, accentuated every motion.

From a vantage-point above the village and looking
down upon this mass of whirling colors, smiling faces,
happiness, health, was the bronze statue of Hans Egede,
Greenland's first missionary. On July 3, 1721, this brave
and devoted soul landed on a neighboring island with his
wife and children, believing that he had a mission to the
posterity of the Norse settlers of seven hundred years
before. When we remember the hostility of the Eskimos
toward the whites, as shown by the experience of the
Norsemen, John Davis, Bylot, Hall, and numerous others,
our admiration for Egede increases.

Encouraged by what this missionary accomplished,
King Frederick IV decided to colonize Greenland. In
1728 two armed vessels and two transports were dispatched
with material for a fort of twelve guns. There was also a
governor, a captain, a lieutenant, twenty-five soldiers, and
eleven horses. In addition to this, and far more dangerous
than any item of the foregoing list, ten male and ten female
convicts were married by lot and ordered to settle among
the natives! This was putting leaven in the lump with a
vengeance. Egede's buildings were moved to Nuk (Point),
the present site of Godthaab. Before that first winter had
passed the convicts utterly upset all theoretical attempts
at colonization. The soldiers needed the fort and the guns
for self-protection, not against the savages, but against
their own race. And added to mutiny was disease, as was
to be expected, and also starvation. Upon the death of
King Frederick of Denmark, his successor, King Chris-
tian VI, decided to discontinue all attempts at trade, re-56

ETAH AND BEYOND

colonization and reformation. All were ordered to return.
Help for missions was withdrawn.

Egede prevailed upon a few men to remain for a year,
and wrote to the King begging for permission to remain
and continue his work. His request was granted, thus
beginning Denmark's interest and great work in Green-
land. Since 1774 the trade has been a royal monopoly;
consequently, the above copy of the restrictions imposed
upon foreign and even native ships.

Here at Godthaab the Moravians began their mis-
sionary work in 1733, calling their settlement Ny or New
Herrnhut. Five years of self-denial, privation, suffering,
and labor resulted in only one convert. Old Tornasuk,
the evil spirit of the Eskimos, is a formidable adversary.
Their work continued to grow in power and finally re-
sulted in four chief stations with several outposts. At the
present time all Moravian work in Greenland has ceased.
The buildings stand deserted, surrounded by the semi-
subterranean rock igloos of their fold, most of whom have
passed on.GODTHAAB AND THE STATUE OF HANS EGEDERUINS OF A NORSE CHURCH AT THE HEAD OF GODTHAAB
FIORDCHAPTER V
WE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

On Thursday, July Slst, we were away, with a reluctant
good-bye to all our Godthaab friends, and headed out
through Ball's River toward the open sea. Ball's River, the
Gilbert Sound of John Davis, due to many sunken rocks
and reefs, is not easy of navigation in clear weather. We
were unfortunate in encountering thick fog before we were
halfway out. The wash of waves on ledges could often be
heard before being seen! We succeeded, however, in
clearing the last shoal spot and then headed northward
again for Fretum Davis or Davis Strait.

During the night we passed what was formerly known
as the Colony of Zukkertop (Sugar-Loaf), now known as
Sukkertoppen, so-called from three conical peaks. Suk-
kertoppen recalled to mind the memorable trip of the un-
fortunate Miranda in 1894, an American expedition under
the direction of Dr. Frederick Cook. In passing out of
this harbor on her way northward the ship struck a sunken
reef. The damage was considered so serious that a return
was deemed necessary. A further examination revealed
the fact that it was highly imprudent to proceed either
north or south. The party of ninety-three, consisting of
college professors, ministers, students, and men of various
other professions, was marooned in North Greenland.
Fortunately there was a Gloucester fishing schooner on the
coast, the Rigel, under the command of Captain Dixon.
She was hastily summoned from a neighboring port. The
captain magnanimously agreed to discontinue his fishing
trip and stand by the Miranda on her homeward voyage.
The steamer proceeded with the Rigel in tow loaded with
her human freight, whose quarters were the ill-smelling58

ETAH AND BEYOND

hold. Their bed was fish. Two hundred and eighty-two
miles south the Miranda was abandoned, and, with wheel
hard over and under steam, disappeared in the darkness.
The party eventually reached Sydney, Cape Breton, thus
ending a never-to-be-forgotten experience.

At four o'clock the next morning we were bucking a
heavy head sea under jumbo, foresail, and engine power,
bound off shore on the starboard tack. To increase the
length of our wireless antenna, a short bowsprit had been
added to the Bowdoin. I had made a mistake in per-
mitting this to be flat; consequently, I feared exactly
what happened that morning. The Bowdoin plunged into
the hollow of a sea, and when she emerged the bowsprit
was gone and the antenna a complete wreck. Nothing
could be done toward repairs until we reached a port.
The Bowdoin was now making so little headway that at-
tempt at further progress entailed a tremendous waste of
valuable fuel oil, oil needed for the homeward passage a
year later.

We tacked and stood for land and the nearest port,
which by our dead reckoning should be Simiutak. Within
an hour great black hills and deep fiords could be faintly
discerned, gradually taking shape as we approached the
shore. A small boat with two Eskimos was descried,
evidently halibut fishing. We slowed down our engine and
signaled them to come aboard, which they did with con-
siderable alacrity, proud of the opportunity of piloting a
vessel into harbor. A kayaker had also anticipated this
privilege, for he appeared suddenly alongside at about the
same time. It was truly a thrilling sight when he raced us
for the harbor entrance, riding from the crest of a wave
into the hollow of the sea, with the rapidity of an arrow.
That it required all his skill to navigate his tiny skin boat
was very evident.

The harbor, which proved to be Simiutak, at a distance
resembled a jumbled mass of rocks; a deception not at allTHE HARBOR OF SUKKERTOPPENHOUSE OF THE GOVERNOR AT SUKKERTOPPEN

A TYPICAL SOUTH GREENLAND HOUSE
Made of imported lumber banked with sodWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 59

uncommon in Greenland and the Labrador. A nearer
approach, however, revealed a quiet shelter and good op-
portunities for running quarter lines to the shore to prevent
the Bowdoin from swinging.

We were instantly surrounded by a weird assortment of
Eskimo degeneracy. Many of the individuals would have
confused the most learned of anthropologists as to their
racial identity. Here were white, black, brown, and blond.
The variety which interested me most and was so different
as almost to deserve the designation 6 species,' was the
short, squat, full-bellied, freckle-faced, red-haired Eskimos.
I had met in my travels black, kinky-haired, half-negro
Eskimos, and blue-eyed, light-haired whites, but never
before an Eskimo with red hair and freckled face. A
prophetic picture of five hundred years hence of the whole
Eskimo race of some thirty thousand souls, stretching
from the Bering Straits to the eastern shores of Greenland,
was here presented for our inspection and contemplation.
Among the ten thousand natives in Greenland to-day, I
venture to assert that there is scarcely a full-blooded
Eskimo. Some seventy years ago it was roughly estimated
that thirty per cent were half-breeds. To-day, especially
in South Greenland, there is an unmistakable trace of
foreign blood in every face.

Our anchor was hardly down when a power boat flying
an enormous Danish flag shot out of a hole among the
rocks. A gentleman of huge girth, red hair, and flowing
beard introduced himself in broken English, Danish, and
Eskimo, as the one in charge of this little outpost, really
a halibut station. We explained as best we could the object
of our visit, and delivered to him a letter to the Inspector
of the district. For the remainder of the day boats were
coming and going between the shore and the Bowdoin,
some loaded to the rail with women, but not one daring
to step upon our decks — Government orders. A visit to
the shore was of interest. We found it literally covered with60

ETAH AND BEYOND

fresh halibut and halibut backbones. The fish are pur-
chased from the natives and 'fletched' (a removal of all
bone). The clear meat is then salted in casks and shipped
to Copenhagen.

During the day McCue replaced our broken bowsprit
with one much more substantial. Robinson and Jaynes
in the Mullins steel motor boat found a clear stream of
cold water from the hills and soon had our tanks filled.
At f our-f orty-five in the morning we were away once more,
avoiding two underwater rocks reported some years
ago, which I am confident do not exist, else they would
have been breaking in the rough sea the day before. In
navigating unknown waters a rough sea is always prefer-
able for this reason — it never fails to reveal its own dan-
gers. Where white water cannot be seen, it is safe for the
Bowdoin of ten-foot draft to hold her course.

Gulls, ducks, and seals were increasing. Even two large
whales rolled their black backs lazily above water, a
reminder of the stirring days of yore when Dundee and
Peterhead sent out their big fleet of strong-built ships
manned by adventurous men. At 10.30 a.m. we bumped
over the Arctic Circle, which was a new experience for
three of my men, Jaynes, Mix, and Lewis. The others had
all been with me the year before in Fox Channel, when
exploring and mapping the western coast of Baffin Land.
It may interest the reader to know that this imaginary line
was called by the ancient Greeks the 'Bear's Circle,' hence
our name Arctic from the Greek word meaning bear. A
circle drawn through the constellation of the Great Bear
was the limit of stars always visible to the Greeks above
the northern horizon.

When Cape Burnil, through which the Arctic Circle
passes, was abeam, Robinson rang the bell, Jaynes blew
the air whistle, Bromfield fired his rifle, and I pumped
the patent fog horn. The mate's watch below, aroused
suddenly from sleep by such an outrageous noise, rolledWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 61

hastily from their bunks and clambered up the fore-
castle ladder, appearing on deck in much abbreviated

costume and blinking like owls. 4 What the h-!* was

plainly written on every face. Their countenances re-
laxed noticeably at the sight of a row of filled glasses on
the cabin house. A toast was drunk to a successful trip
and safe return.

At six o'clock on the morning of August 3d, we hauled in
for Disco Island in beautiful clear weather with bright sun-
shine. I reluctantly decided to pass Godhavn, the Lievely
of the whalemen, well remembering the hospitality of In-
spector Lindenow and Professor Porsild in 1917.

Disco, the largest island on the West Greenland coast, is
two hundred square miles in area and four thousand feet in
height. Inside of this island is the wonderful Waigatt Run,
bordered by highlands strikingly picturesque and of inter-
est because they contain many beds of bituminous coal, ex-
tending for hundreds of miles beneath the trap formation.
Some eighteen to twenty outcrops have been reported in
this vicinity and will doubtless be of considerable value in
future years. As coal is of vegetable origin, it comes as a
great surprise to the average man to learn that such vast
deposits are found not only in this section of the North,
but within five hundred miles of the Pole itself! One seam
of coal, at Water Course Bay on the east shore of Grant
Land, was reported to be from twenty-five to thirty feet
thick. This thickness would represent a peat bed five hun-
dred feet thick! Since the rate of the accumulation of coal
is about one and one half inches in a thousand years, two
hundred thousand years were required for the building of
this bed. What a storehouse of potential energy is locked
up in those great snow-covered hills of the North! True,
at the present time but a small amount is available, yet
who dares to predict that all of it will never be used right
on the spot?

Of the nine thousand or so fossil plants recorded, one62

ETAH AND BEYOND

fourth have been found in coal measures. By an examina-
tion of the coal beds of the North we may learn much of its
physical characteristic millions of years ago, which are
found to be in striking contrast to its present condition —
a continent capped with five hundred thousand square
miles of ice attaining an altitude of nine thousand feet.
What do we find? Sixteen hundred and eighteen fossil
plants, most of them from that very place, the Waigatt
Passage.

It is almost a shock to learn that on those hills, now
buried in ice, grew at one time the following trees: poplar,
beech, oak, walnut, maple, fig, eucalyptus, sumac, laurel,
aralia, sassafras, ilex, cassia, magnolia, tulip, cinnamon,
sycamore, persimmon, dogwood, buckthorn, the giant
sequoia and redwood. There can be only one conclusion —
that is, at one time a warm climate prevailed, not only here
at Disco and vicinity, but throughout the Arctic regions. It
is the opinion of certain scientists that climatic zones did
not exist; that the climate of the world was uniformly
equable and less diversified than now (Cleland). This was
the physical condition of Greenland during the so-called
Carboniferous period, which culminated in the Great Ice
Age. Let the reader conjecture as to the location of the
North Pole at that time.

On Saturday, August 4th, we saw our first midnight sun.
We had left all darkness behind us. For the next eighteen
days we should enjoy continuous sunlight. Before us lay
'the whole mirror of the sea — the edge of the earth — the
source of primeval night, where the vault of heaven ends,
where lies the ancient garden of Phoebus/ Such we find in
Sophocles' tragedy. According to an old Greek conception
we were in the land of the Hyperboreans. 4 They dwelt
under the shining way, north of the roaring Boreas, so far
that this cold north wind could not reach them, and there-
fore enjoyed a splendid climate. They did not live in
houses but in woods and groves. With them injustice andWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

63

war were unknown, they were untouched by age or sick-
ness; at joyous sacrificial feasts, with golden laurel wreaths
in their hair, and amid song and sound of the cithara and
the dancing of maidens, they led a careless existence in
undisturbed gladness, and reached an immense age. When
they were tired of life they threw themselves, after having
eaten and drunk, joyfully and with wreaths in their hair,
into the sea from a particular cliff.'

We were off Svarten Nuk, the farthest north of John
Davis on June 30,1587, in his wretched little 'clincher,' the
Ellen, of barely twenty tons;4 wretched' because of the fact
that she was leaking three hundred strokes in four hours!
And here he named a 'mighty' cliff, on the starboard bow
thirty miles distant, 'Sanderson, his hope of a Northwest
Passage,' after Mr. William Sanderson, one of his patrons.
He reported 'no ice towards the North, but a great sea,
free, large, very salt and blue, and of an unsearchable
depth.' It was unchanged after three hundred and thirty-
seven years.

We were on the borders of the dreaded Melville Bay of
old — a body of water to be carefully navigated in May
and June and early July when great unbroken fields
weighing countless tons, under the influence of strong
winds, impinge against the edge of the fast ice entrapping
all ships unfortunate enough to be between the masses.
Such a mischance happened in 1857; a southerly wind
drove the pack down upon the whole whaling fleet. Two
were crushed and ground into bits. In 1830 twenty-two
ships met the same fate, one known as the Race Horse
being literally turned inside out and her keel forced up
through her deck!

On the night of August 5th the entire circle of the Bay
lay in sight from our position in 75° N. and 60° 30' W.
Southeast of us were the well-known landmarks, Wilcox
Head and the Devil's Thumb; abeam Red Head, and off
the starboard bow Cape Seddon with its memories of a64

ETAH AND BEYOND

dark winter night in January, 1915, when, wet, half-frozen,
and half-starved, we crawled through the long passage to
the comfort of an Eskimo igloo.

Was it possible that we were to encounter no ice at all in
our run to Cape York, one hundred and fifteen miles dis-
tant? That we were to have a year such as those of 1881,
1893, 1908, and 1913, when Northern waters were re-
markably and entirely free of ice? It seemed too good to
be true.

Gigantic icebergs, however, were numerous as they al-
ways are in this section, upon which the whalemen have
bestowed the name of 'The Bergy Hole.' Such are to be
feared only in thick fog and darkness. As we passed to lee-
ward of a tremendous flat-topped mass, our dogs jumped
to their feet and stood attentively with erect ears and sniff-
ing noses. A careful examination through our long glass
failed to reveal what their actions indicated — a polar
bear. The whole curve of the Bay was now in sight, a
panorama of black headlands, a variegated border of the
Great White Ice Sahara burying the continent of Green-
land.

At seven in the evening we met our first little auks or
dovekies (Alle alle), the hardy little 'pine knot' of the New
England coast. I never feel that I am really in the Arctic
until I see the surface of the sea dotted with these black-
jacketed, white-waistcoated, plump little edible morsels of
the Eskimos. It is of interest to stand at the bow of the
ship and study their motions under water when interrupted
in their feeding by the thump of the propeller — an actual
flying, since the wings are worked vigorously as an aid to
the webbed feet. The startled look at the sight of the ship
upon emergence is truly comical, and is generally followed
by an instantaneous disappearance and an erratic zigzag
course under water away from the path of the ship. When
the dovekies are congregated in countless numbers on the
talus slopes at the site of their breeding-places, their com-DRIFTING OFF TO THEIR DEATH IN SOUTHERN SEASHALFWAY BETWEEN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE AND THE NORTH POLE

ICEBERGS AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN REACHWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 65

mingled melodious notes, now swelling in volume, now
dying to a gentle musical murmur, is a real Northern
symphony, portraying life, abundance of life, and more life,
even here in the so-called Frozen North.

Although our direct course to Cape York was appar-
ently free of ice, I decided to take no chances with the pack
and planned to encircle Melville Bay inside of the drift
which I knew to be driving off the land under the influence
of the northerly wind. This is the so-called 'North Pas-
sage' of the Scotch whalemen. In reality, for the navigator
in July and August, there is no such 'North Passage,' or
"Middle Passage,' or 'Southern Passage,' dwelt upon at
length by so many writers. At this time of year the pack
is a heterogeneous mass moving with the prevailing winds
to any point of the compass. One's course, therefore, must
necessarily be determined by taking this fact into full
consideration.

Not until well beyond Cape Walker and headed west did
we encounter any ice at all, and this very much broken up,
permitting an easy passage through the numerous leads.
That we were extremely fortunate may be judged by the
fact that many another expedition at this same time of
year has consumed weeks in doing what favorable con-
ditions enabled us to do in a day. Captain Erasmus Penny,
in command of the Lady Franklin and the Sophia of the
Franklin Search Expedition of 1850, crossed in five weeks,
arriving at Bushnan Island on August 12th. Peary, on his
first trip, crossed the Bay in twenty-three days; on his
second trip in twenty-five hours, a difference which clearly
shows the uncertainty of ice conditions from year to year.
The steamship Fox, under McClintock, began the passage
on August 8, 1857, three days later than our own entrance
into the Bay. She was beset on the 17th and remained so
for two hundred and fifty-three days. She was released on
April &6, 1858, having drifted 1385 miles southward. She
renewed her trip and succeeded in crossing the Bay in66

ETAH AND BEYOND

twenty-seven days. The North Star was beset on July 30,
1849, to the southward of Melville Bay. Fast in the pack
she was carried northward across the Bay, and then some
seventy miles westward, where she was released on
September 26th.

At 11 a.m. on August 6th, we arrived at Cape York,
tying up to the fast bay ice within a few yards of the end of
the Cape. This point was first reached by Captain John
Ross one hundred and six years ago, thereby introducing
civilization and white men to the Smith Sound tribe of
natives. Numerous whaling ships followed during the next
forty years, one ship, the North Star, wintering at North
Star Bay in 1849-50. In spite of such facts we find ex-
plorers asserting that these people had never seen white
men until 1853. Many a man has yielded to the tempta-
tion to claim a discovery of what was discovered many
years before — a feeble and futile attempt to acquire fame.

The tupiks or tents of the Eskimos could be seen a
quarter of a mile distant across an intervening stretch of
ice. Three long blasts of our air whistle summoned four
kayaks around a neighboring point, the long-haired, fur-
clad occupants yelling lustily at the sight of the Bowdoin.
A nearer view disclosed the well-known features of Ah-

now'ka, and-a stranger! The latter proved to be a

teacher-missionary who had visited Borup Lodge at Etah
during my absence on the long spring trip in 1914. They
were made welcome, fed abundantly, and consequently
made happy. They had much to tell me. No ship had
succeeded in reaching them in 1921 and 1922 because of
unusual ice conditions. Many of our friends had died,
victims of the great influenza epidemic of 1918-19, which
seems to have invaded all parts of the world. Two of the
four now famous Eskimos who had accompanied Peary to
the Pole were dead, Eging'wa and Oo-quee'a. The former
died of consumption, judging from a description of his
illness, and the latter was drowned in his kayak. Al-WE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 67

pood'a-shah'o, my faithful driver for four years, had died
of influenza. Many of our other Eskimo friends had
migrated to better hunting grounds below Cape York.

As we proceeded northward, I looked upon this snow-
capped land of the Innuit as almost a dead world, realizing
that it would never again have the same appeal.

We are now beneath the Beverley or Crimson Cliffs of
Sir John Ross. When red snow was first reported by this
distinguished navigator and explorer, scientists and the
reading public were inclined to be skeptical. The red in the
snow was found by botanists to be a minute air-breathing
plant known as Protococcus nivalis.

s Every point recalled pleasant memories of sledging days.
With the eagerness of a child, I scanned the shore minutely
for sites of former encampments. Twenty-seven miles
north of Cape York, the wonderful little harbor of Ak-pat
opened to view, disclosing the dark doorways of the now
abandoned igloos in contrast to the rich green slope, the
camp-ground of centuries. On a night of all nights, our
dogs, eight years before, had trotted into this harbor
mouth. Never can I forget the scene: towering black
cliffs, like great castle walls, the night clear, cold, sparkling,
the steel shoes of our sledges ringing in contact with the
harbor ice; at the right the Mer de Glace, shimmering like
a bed of molten silver in the full moonlight, awe-inspiring
in its stillness, its tremendous power, its purpose; at our
left, high above the sea ice, the dull lights of the translucent
sealskin windows of Eskimo homes — shelter, warmth,
happiness. Hospitality among these people is unques-
tioned. Lamps were filled with oil, caches were reopened,
food was piled up, narwhal, seal, and frozen murres. And
then we talked and talked the old year out and the new
year in, a memorable ending and beginning.

On our left now was Conical Rock, an islet striking in its
blackness and shape, the very top of a submerged moun-
tain, and one of several on this stretch of coast. Of similar68

ETAH AND BEYOND

type are Round Island, Dalrymple and Bell Rocks, Little
Matterhorn, Sutherland, and Cocked Hat Island, near
Cape Sabine.

It hardly seemed possible that the ' Great Petowik
Glacier' could be six miles in extent across its face. With
our rate of progress known and beam bearings, we deter-
mined this distance to be not more than four miles.

We were passing a cape known more than three hundred
years, in name, Cape Dudley Digges. What a remarkable
trip, that of the Company of Merchant Adventurers for the
Discovery of a Northwest Passage! j Robert Bylot, as
master of his ship Discovery, and commander of the expedi-
tion, deserves the credit for this famous voyage rather than
his pilot, William Baffin. As has happened in the history
of many another expedition, the historian has become more
prominent and has received more recognition by posterity
than the man who alone was held responsible for success or
failure. A marked illustration of this is the source of the
name America.

To that magnificent great sheet of water between Green-
land and Baffin Land, first sailed by Robert Bylot, was
given the name of his pilot Baffin, 4 that learned and un-
learned marriner and mathematitian., To a small, almost
unknown island off the northern coast of Baffin Land was
given the name Bylot. The secret of this injustice is un-
doubtedly in the words: "Written by William Baffine/

One extract of Baffin's Journal is of extreme interest at
this point of our narrative now that we are upon the far
northern threshold of Bylot's important discoveries:

The first of July we were come into an open sea, in the latitude
of 75°40', which anew reuiued our hope of a passage; and because
the winde was contrary, we stood off twenty leagues from the
shoare before we met the ice; then standing in againe; when we
were neare the land, we let fall an anchor to see what tyde went,
but in that we found small comfort. Shortly after the winde
came to southeast, and blew very hard, with foule weather,
thicke and foggie; then we set sayle, and ran along by the land;WE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

69

this was on the second day, at night. The next morning we past
by a faire cape or headland, which we called Sir Dudley Digges
Cape; it is in the latitude of 76° 35', and hath a small iland close
adioyning to it; the winde still increasing, we past by faire
Sound twelue leagues distant from the former cape, hauing an
iland in the midst, which maketh two entrances. Vnder this
iland we came to anchor, and had not rid past two houres but
our ship droue, although we had two anchors at the ground; then
were we forced to set sayle and stand forth. This Sound wee
called Wostenholme Sound; it hath many inlets or smaller
sounds in it, and is a fit place for the killing of whales.

The fourth day, at one a clocke in the morning, the storme
began againe at west and by south, so vehement, that it blew
away our forecourse, and being not able to beare any sayle, wee
lay a drift till about eight a clocke, then it cleared vp a little,
and we saw our selues imbayed in a great Sound; then we set
sayle, and stood ouer to the south-east side, where, in a little
cove or bay we let fall an anchor, which we lost with cable and
all, the wind blowing so extremely from the tops of the hils,
that we could get no place to anchor in, but were forced to stand
to and fro in the Sound, the bottome being all frozen ouer; to-
ward two a clocke it began to be lesse winde, then we stood
forth.

In this Sound we saw great numbers of whales, therefore we
called it Whale Sound, and doubtlesse, if we had beene prouided
for killing them, we might haue strooke very many. It lyeth in
the latitude 77° 30'. All the fift day it was very faire weather,
and wee kept along by the land till eight a clock in the euening,
by which time we were come to a great banke of ice, it being
backed with land, which we seeing, determined to stand backe
some eight leagues to an iland we called Hakluits He — it lyeth
betweene two great Sounds, the one Whale Sound, and the other
Sir Thomas Smith's Sound; this last runneth to the north 78°,
and is admirable in one respect, because in it is the greatest
variation of the compasse of any part of the world known; for
by diuers good obseruations I found it to be aboue fiue points,
or fifty-six degrees varied to the westward, so that a north-east
and by east is true north, and so of the rest. Also, this Sound
seemeth to bee good for the killing of whales, it being the great-
est and largest in all this bay. The cause, wherefore we
minded to stand to this iland, was to see if we could find any
finnes or such like on the shore, and so, indeed, this night wee70

ETAH AND BEYOND

came to anchor, but with foule weather, that our boat could not
land. The next day wee were forced to set sayle, the sea was
growne so high, and the wind came more outward. Two dayes
wee spent and could get no good place to anchor in; then, on the
eight day it cleered vp, and wee seeing a company of ilands lye
off from the shoare twelue or thirteene leagues, wee minded to
goe to them to see if there we could anchor. When wee were
something neere, the winde took vs short and being loth to spend
more time, we tooke opportunitie of the wind, and left the search-
ing of these ilands, which wee called Carys Ilands, all which
Sounds and ilands the map doth truly describe.

Dr. Elisha Kent Kane was the historian of the First
Grinnell Expedition. His most interesting book won him
recognition throughout England and America. The name
of the real commander is forgotten — Lieutenant Edwin
J. De Haven. Not another ship visited these waters for
two hundred and two years! The discoveries were dis-
credited, the maps lost or destroyed, the narrative almost
forgotten. But Cape Dudley Digges, Wolstenholme
Sound, Whale Sound, Smith Sound, Jones Sound, Hakluyt
and Cary Islands, remain as reminders of a memorable
trip, a daring adventure.

As we passed Cape Atholl and directed our course be-
tween Wolstenholme and Saunders Islands, I could see
with the aid of a glass Rasmussen's Trading Station at
North Star Bay, fifteen miles distant. By midnight we had
passed Wolstenholme Sound and were approaching Booth
Inlet, well known to readers of Arctic literature through
4 An Arctic Boat Journey,' by Isaac I. Hayes. Here in a
crevice of the rock, in a place "barren and desolate beyond
description,' the eight deserters of the Kane Expedition
endeavored to eke out their existence during the winter of
1854-55. Starving, discouraged, repenting of their action,
and in terror of their lives for fear of the natives, they
eventually struggled back to the brig at Rensselaer Harbor
and were kindly received by Dr. Kane.

With the glasses I swept the shores of Kiatak, Netchea-WE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 71

lume, Oo-loo-set, and Ittibloo — not an Eskimo. Was the
whole country deserted? On the northern end of Northum-
berland Island was a large settlement. This I learned from
the Cape York Eskimos. As we sailed by within a few
yards of the shore, I closely scanned every square foot,
knowing well how amazingly an Eskimo skin tent is
camouflaged against the gray broken background. A slight
movement — a dog! Then one, two, three, four — eight!
A whole team! The Eskimos must be near. But not a
thing could be seen resembling tent or human being.
Strange! We proceeded cautiously along shore with one
eye on the bottom for ledges and the other following the
land. At length from the ice barrel the unmistakable out-
lines of three tupiks could be seen, their tops projecting
above a slight rise.

Leaving the Bowdoin in charge of the mate, with orders
to 'lay off and on,' I landed in the steel tender among a
crowd of women and children, nearly all friends of long
standing. In-a-wah'o and Too-cu'ma, two of our girls on
the Peary trip of 1908-09, soon arrived running and out of
breath from their tents, a quarter of a mile distant. How
our tongues wagged as we talked of old times, and how
sorrowfully they told me of the death of all our good friends.
They soon informed me that their husbands were all away
hunting walrus in kayaks. I had anticipated their needs,
and brought forth from bulging pockets sticks of candy for
the youngsters and pipes and tobacco for the old.

Reluctantly I bade them good-bye, telling them if ice
conditions were such that I could not reach Ellesmere
Land, I might winter on their coast, just north or south of
Etah. When a mile from land we could hear repeated rifle
shots. We knew that we were seen by the returning men.
Time was too precious, however, to return. Across Murchi-
son Sound lay Ig-loo-da-houny and my old dog-driver,
E-took'a-shoo, the best Eskimo I have ever employed. My
trip would not seem complete without him.72

ETAH AND BEYOND

We were upon the scene of Peary's first Northern ex-
ploration of thirty-three years ago. As we passed Cape
Cleveland and opened out McCormick Bay, the site of
Redcliff, Peary's winter quarters, could be seen. Here the
'Snow Baby' was born. At the head of the bay were Sun
Glacier and Tuktu Valley, familiar names to Arctic
readers, and also Cape Lee, Cape Henson, and the
Verhoeff Glacier, named for three of his men.

With a strong pair of binoculars I swept the far shore of
Robertson Bay, resting long upon the familiar site of Ig-
loo'da-houny. Not a tupik could be seen. We swung north-
east along the shore minutely examining every suspicious-
looking rock and mound without disclosing anything re-
motely resembling a settlement. We had turned and were
going west when one of my men called my attention to
what resembled a small wooden house a quarter of a mile
up the shore. To my astonishment it proved to be such
and in a place I had never known Eskimos to be. The
truth then dawned upon me, that the Eskimos were avoid-
ing the sites of their old settlements because of the large
number of deaths which had occurred during the influenza
epidemic, — merely a superstition, yet one which the med-
ical profession would heartily encourage.

It was very evident that the men were away, else they
would have been alongside in their kayaks long before.
Two dots on the water rapidly rounding Ig-lu-nak'suah
Point proved to be E-took'a-shoo and Kanga, tanned al-
most to a black by the continuous Arctic sunlight. Puffing
and sweating they climbed over our rail, and in a few
minutes E-took'a-shoo was bound shorewards after his new
South Greenland wife, his dogs, his hunting equipment —
all the household goods. The last he could easily place upon
his shoulder. Learning that Kah-ko-tchee'a, his brother,
was at Nerky, the neighboring settlement, I decided to add
him to our personnel, thus giving us two dog teams and two
good hunters.THE ESKIMO KAYAK
beautiful specimen of marine architecture

AN OOMIAK ROWED BY GIRLS AND STEERED BY AN OLD MANA SNOW HOUSE WHEN LINED WITH A SEALSKIN TENT CAN BE
VERY COMFORTABLE

NERKY, A TYPICAL NORTH GREENLAND VILLAGE
Upon the rock piles in the foreground the meat is placed to protect it
from the dogsWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 73

No one at Nerky! The same experience as at Ig-loo'da-
houny. We finally discovered the three families of Eskimos
away up at the head of the fiord, camped beside a babbling
brook near the Morris Jesup Glacier, a very attractive spot
with its white sand beach and grass-covered slope. In front
of their door seals had their playground.

Kah-ko-tchee'a did not lose a minute in deciding
whether or not to accompany us northward. Being the
white man's assistant removes all uncertainty as to the
possible privations of the long winter night to come. There
is always the uncertainty of food in spite of the tons of
walrus and seal meat cached under the rocks along the
shore of their immediate hunting ground. Food cannot be
denied any visiting Eskimo family and dogs. If one has
plenty, numerous friends and relatives may decide to pro-
long their visit until spring. Human nature evidently has
not made as much progress during the last one or two
thousand years as many students of mankind would have
us believe.

The Bowdoin now resembled a gypsy wagon, with her
heterogeneous deckload of twenty-one dogs, kayaks, har-
poons, tupiks, poles, drying racks, and skins. We now
headed north for Etah in 78° 20' North Latitude. When
passing Peteravik, the winter walrus ground of the Smith
Sound tribe, Kah-ko-tchee'a expressed a desire to take on
board some of his meat cached there during the summer,
since we had nothing on board for our dogs and possibly
would not have for several days. Two dory-loads of
ancient-smelling walrus meat added nothing to the tidi-
ness of the decks. But when I recalled our two hundred and
fifty dogs and thirty tons of rotten whale meat on the deck
of the Roosevelt in 1908, the Bowdoin seemed like a
gilded ballroom!

Before us lay Sonntag Bay and Child's Glacier with its
memories of camp and many battles with walrus, and
beyond Cape Alexander and Cape Isabella, the "Pillars of74

ETAH AND BEYOND

Hercules' of Smith Sound. Just before midnight of the 7th
we rounded the Cape with a bright midnight sun bathing
every promontory and ice cap in a beautiful soft yellow
sunlight. We were upon the threshold of many stirring
events in the history of Arctic exploration. Upon our star-
board bow the Crystal Palace Cliffs and famous Pandora
Harbor. Just beyond was Port Foulke, headquarters of the
Hayes Expedition of 1860-61; Foulke Fiord, where Peary
wintered in 1899-1900; Littleton Island, which played
such an important part in the Kane, Hall, Young, Nares,
Beebe, Schley, and Greely Expeditions; Polaris Beach,
where the remnant of the Charles Francis Hall Expedition
wintered in 1872-73; Cape Sabine of the Greely tragedy;
Cairn Point and Refuge Harbor of Kane, with Rensselaer
Harbor beyond, echoes of a mighty struggle to disclose the
secrets of the Northland.

When going into Etah and long after the anchor had
found bottom, I was simply overwhelmed with thoughts of
the past. Every rock, every point in that beautiful fiord
recalled some incident of our four years' sojourn. The bold
escarpment of the north shore, with its gentle green slope
culminating in its thousand-foot cliff, was just as beautiful;
blues, greens, purples, and reds blended into the pattern
of a gigantic Turkish rug. The waters of the fiord were
placid as a mirror and reflected the contour of the border-
ing hills, strikingly black in contrast with the gleaming
white of the glacier crowning the head of the harbor and
dropping gently into the clear waters of Alida Lake.

The hush of midnight which steals quietly over the
Northland as the sun swings along the northern horizon
was broken only by the musical sound of falling waters.
One point alone was not attractive, the site of our house of
1913-17. It seemed so strange, so unreal to look up and
find it gone! Thirty-five feet square, eight rooms, a large
comfortable living-room, four bedrooms, a carpenter shop,
generator-room, dark-room, all electrically lighted, withWE CROSS THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 75

double windows, double walls, a real home to welcome us
back from long cold trips — now a flat debris-covered
slope, 4 a tragical vista of pathetic scraps.'

Before turning in, I rowed ashore and stood alone amid
the cans and bits of wood and tarred paper. The effect of
the silence and the waste was accentuated by the memory
of our big living-room filled with happy, laughing Eskimo
children, our dining-room piled high with the delicacies of
the North, of the hundred dogs swarming about our door,
of snapping whips, of arriving and departing sledges, of
Jot, Tank, Ek, Hal, Jerome, and Fitz, now busy at their
work in the homeland.

Our two Eskimo boys with their wives started up the
fiord at once to visit their father, Panikpak, encamped
under the dovekie cliffs. In the early morning they were
back in a bluff-bowed, clinker-built Danish boat, a family
bus, in that it carried the whole settlement of Etah, thir-
teen in all, including our own five. I was glad to see
Panikpak again, in many ways the most remarkable man
in the tribe. Quiet and unassuming and in his ways as
gentle as a woman, as sprightly as a boy, although sixty-
two years of age, optimistic and always cheerful, as shown
by the ever-present twinkle in his eye, he is a credit to the
Smith Sound Eskimos. He was thoroughly appreciated by
Peary, and was employed by him virtually from the great
explorer's entry into the Northland in 1891 to the time of
the discovery of the Pole in 1909. When questioned as to
his thoughts when starving on the Polar Sea in 1906, he
replied with a smile, 'We didn't worry. We let Peary do
that!' And when questioned by me as to our real purpose
in life and as to just why we were here, playing the part
assigned to us in the drama of life, he replied, 'I have often
thought about it, and wondered why — I can think of one
reason only — be kind to each other and help each other.'

These are the thoughts and words of a so-called 'savage.'CHAPTER VI

OUR GOAL IN SIGHT

Otjr goal was now in sight. Across Smith Sound thirty
miles distant lay Cape Sabine, the scene of the Greely
tragedy. I had planned, if ice conditions would permit, to
establish winter quarters in that vicinity. With dog team
years before I had examined all possible harbors, but a
good harbor does not necessarily mean an easy entrance or
an early exit in the spring. Payer Harbor, on the very end
of the Cape, was out of the question. Its bottom covered
with rocks, its winter covering of ice subjected to pressure,
its low flat islands affording no shelter, swept by drift and
cold winds — it would never do.

Behind the Cape, which is really Bedford Pim Island,
and separating it from the mainland, there is a strait
named after Rice, of the Greely Expedition. Here is Fram
Harbor, a snug little hole in the hills, deriving its name
from the fact that Nansen's famous ship, the Fram,
wintered here under the command of Sverdrup in 1898-99.
This would make an excellent place if we could reach it,
but even better than this was Alexandra Fiord, some six
miles west up Buchanan Strait. There was only one pos-
sible objection — we might not break out in the spring.
When one goes North, it is a fairly good idea to plan to get
back.

We headed across the Sound on the morning of the 8th
on a reconnaissance of the ice conditions.

As illustrative of how uncertain one's plans are in the
North, from the crow's-nest when off Littleton Island,
there was not a particle of ice in sight. Open water ex-
tended apparently to the Pole itself. When within ten
miles of Cape Sabine, ice seemed fairly to pop out of theOUR GOAL IN SIGHT

77

sea, and lay in one solid jam against Ellesmere Land from
Cape Isabella northwards. This disappearance and reap-
pearance of drift ice is so astonishing that Newfoundland
fishermen declare it rises from the bottom and sinks^be-
neath the surface!

After listening to a lengthy argument among the fisher-
men on the Labrador coast, some years ago, and endeavor-
ing to explain that a cubic foot of ordinary sea water
weighs sixty-four pounds (Bar. 30, Ther. 62°) and a cubic
foot of ice fifty-seven and a half pounds, and therefore ice
being lighter than water could not sink, one grizzled old
mariner asserted that if I would accompany him in his boat
but a short distance he would convince me that ice sinks!
I went out with him. Upon reaching a small bight in the
land, he looked down into the water and, with extended
finger, exclaimed, 'There he is!' Sure enough, there 'he'
was, a small floe berg on the bottom! The old mariner had
the better of the argument.

My only explanation of this apparent phenomenon, and
the only possible one, is that within the mass there was an
embedded rock or boulder of sufficient weight to overcome
the flotation power of the ice, which floats above water at
the ratio of one to eight to one to eleven, depending upon
the density of the mass.

As density depends somewhat upon temperature there is
an interesting speculation as to what might happen to floe
ice of low temperature encountering a comparatively warm
stream of fresh water, such as in summer issues from the
deep bays of Labrador. Under certain conditions the ice
must sink; but such are rarely, if ever, found.

The real cause of the sudden appearance of ice to one on
the deck of a ship is due to the convexity of the earth's
surface. One's vision is extended according to one's
height above the surface of the sea. From the deck of the
Bowdoin it was possible for us to see floe ice at a distance
of three and a half miles only. From the crow's-nest, sixty-78

ETAH AND BEYOND

five feet above the deck, our vision was extended to nine
and two tenths miles. Ten miles of clear water over the
bow resembles the Atlantic Ocean; but at ten and a quarter
there may be a great field not yet in view.

Running along the edge of the pack, we examined it care-
fully for leads and a possible entrance. It presented an un-
broken front. I decided to return to Etah and await a
change.

Upon the northern side of Cape Sabine is the site of the
Greely Starvation Camp of 1883-84. The twenty-five en-
listed men of the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, under the
command of Lieutenant Adolphus W. Greely, landed at
Wade Point, sixteen miles south of Cape Sabine, following
their memorable retreat in boats from Fort Conger, two
hundred and twenty miles north. They fully expected to
meet the relief ship sent by the United States Govern-
ment.

Learning of the crushing of this ship by ice through a
note left in a cairn at Cape Sabine and finding a cache of
supplies which had been landed, the party decided to
abandon their partially constructed quarters at Wade
Point and settle beside the cache, where a second ship
would naturally seek them. Here they began their long
and hopeless fight against cold, darkness, starvation. When
the sun first touched the roof of their wretched rock hovel
on March 11th, after its long absence of five months, it
found one only of this brave little band missing. Six died
in April, four in May, and seven in June. When Schley
reached their camp on June 21st, but seven remained alive.

From that day not a tablet or memorial of any kind had
ever been erected to these soldiers of the United States
Army, who died as truly for their country as if on the field
of battle. They obeyed their orders to abandon their
headquarters and retreat south, which they did to their
death. In the hold of the Bowdoin was a beautiful bronze
tablet to be erected at Cape Sabine by the National Geo-OUR GOAL IN SIGHT

79

graphic Society, which is to be commended for this patri-
otic service.

In case severe ice conditions militated against reaching
my objective point in the Bowdoin, I was confident of being
able to do so with dog team across the ice of Smith Sound
in the early spring. Returning to Etah, we moored the
Bowdoin to the abrupt rock face of Reindeer or Provision
Point. Scarcely were we tied up when a steamer was
descried on the southern horizon headed northward. Our
reasoning convinced us that it could be no other than the
Arctic, the Canadian exploring ship under the command of
Captain Joseph Bernier, which we knew to be bound for
Cape Sabine for the purpose of establishing a police station
to protect the musk-oxen of Ellesmere Island from the
Greenland Eskimos. In view of the fact that the occupants
of this one station would eat more musk-oxen in a year than
would be shot by the whole Smith Sound tribe, we must
conclude that the policy pursued by the Canadians is a
penny-wise and a pound-foolish one. The Arctic, formerly
the German Gauss, anchored a hundred yards distant from
the Bowdoin. The contrast between the two ships was
striking. The Arctic, undoubtedly the strongest polar ship
ever built, massive, cumbersome, slow, apparently in-
destructible; the Bowdoin, small, lithe, fast, and appar-
ently as fragile as a flower.

We were glad to see them and lost no time in paying our
respects to my old friend, Joe Bernier, whom I have known
for years. We were introduced to the various officers and to
Dr. J. D. Craig, in charge of the expedition, and to his wife
who accompanied him. To our surprise we learned that
they had missed us by one day at Gready Harbor, Labra-
dor, on July 18th. Their purpose in visiting Etah was to se-
cure the services of two Eskimo families to act as assistants
at the Cape Sabine Station. At the request of Dr. Craig, I
accompanied him and Inspector Wilcox as interpreter to
interview Panikpak and his young companion, Kla-shook.80

ETAH AND BEYOND

Both were very anxious to enter the employment of the
Canadian Government, were engaged at once, and ordered
to pack up all their personal belongings as quickly as pos-
sible.

In the meantime we had been informed of the death of
President Warren G. Harding through the wireless of the
Arctic. The American flag was instantly placed at half-
mast on the Bowdoin and remained so for three days, the
most northern of all American flags in the world similarly
raised in honor of the late President.

In the evening we were entertained on the Arctic by
motion pictures, their equipment being similar to our own.
We fairly fell into bed at 2 a.m., since we had had but very
little sleep for several nights. When we awoke in the morn-
ing the Arctic had gone in spite of our assertion that she
could not possibly reach the Cape with the ice in the pre-
sent condition. I was confident that the lumbering Arc-
tic could not do what the active Bowdoin had failed
to do.

A change of wind now compelled us to leave our rock dock
and seek a new anchorage under Sunrise Point, so named by
the American expedition of 1860-61, which found it a favor-
able spot to observe the first rising of the sun after their
memorable winter. Here the well-appointed British ships
Alert and Discovery anchored on July 25, 1875, on their
way to the Far North in a vain attempt to reach the Pole.
We took advantage of our enforced delay to fill all our
water tanks from a clear stream issuing from beneath a
glacierette in what was familiarly known to us years ago as
4Jot's Valley/

On Friday, August 10th, with Jaynes, my engineer, I
made a reconnaissance of Port Foulke and Pandora Harbor
with a view of the possibility of being compelled to winter
on that side of the Sound in case of failure to reach Sabine.
Robinson returned from the heights in the evening with
the report that the Arctic was fast in the ice about ten'v.p-uv , m

y^ct<^-^-r&s4'4 Yin. 1

eider's nest with eggs covered with down

*£ '¥3i

eider's nest with youngNESTS OF THE EIDER

YOUNG EIDERSOUR GOAL IN SIGHT

81

miles northwest of Cape Sabine, with no prospect of ad-
vance westward.

On Saturday, the 11th, following the completion by God-
dard of his magnetic work at Etah, we proceeded to Pan-
dora Harbor under power, the barometer giving indication
of a southerly breeze and a possible besetment at Cobb
Harbor. I have named this shelter under Sunrise Point
after my good friend, Arthur C. Cobb, of Boston.

Pandora Harbor lies between two striking headlands,
Cape Kendrick and the Crystal Palace Cliffs. A slight
turn in the axis of the harbor furnishes a partial shelter in a
westerly or southwesterly gale, but it is not what one would
call a good harbor. It has this advantage, that, whereas
Etah Harbor is from fifteen to twenty fathoms deep at all
points, Pandora shoals gradually from fourteen to five, thus
furnishing an excellent holding ground with good mud
bottom. Numerous Arctic hares could be seen feeding on
the southern slopes of Cape Kendrick, and the surface of
the water was dotted with young eider ducks. The boys
were soon out with shotgun and rifle.

Pandora Harbor is the old McCormick Bight of the
Hayes Expedition. It receives its name from Sir Allen
Young's ship Pandora, which visited this region in 1876
with the hope of communicating with the English North
Pole Expedition of 1875-76. It also figured largely in the
Greely Relief Expeditions. Here the Neptune, the First
Greely Relief ship, anchored twice and rode out a succes-
sion of southwesterly gales, parting her lines and losing an
anchor. Pandora Harbor was agreed upon by Lieutenant
Garlington and Commander Wilder as the rendezvous for
the Proteus and Yantic of the Second Greely Relief. Here
cairns were to be built and records left, and to this harbor
the wrecked crew of the Proteus retreated in their open
boats following the crushing and sinking of the Proteus ten
miles north of Cape Sabine on July 23, 1881. Encouraged
by the belief that if some thirty men camped here forty82

ETAH AND BEYOND

years ago there must be remains of the camp still evident,
the boys searched the shore and were rewarded by finding
the camp, littered with debris. They brought on board fish
hooks, table knives, forks, pieces of a fish net, card matches,
and two broken cups, bearing an insignium of a life buoy
with crown and foul anchor, and the words 'Marine
Service/

The persistency of such relics in the Arctic after a period
of fifty and even sixty years is astounding. The reader may
remember our finding written records and even the cap of
the famous Kane of sixty-three years before, during our
1913-17 expedition. And not only records and various
articles, but tracks of a push cart cut into the soil thirty-
four years previous! Heavy rains never occur in the Far
North to disturb the surface soil.

On Monday, the 12th, we left Pandora Harbor to renew
our attempt to cross the Sound. North and inside of Lit-
tleton Island the ice lay heavy against the land stretching
northward beyond Cairn Point. The middle of the Sound
seemed clear so far as an examination from the crow's-nest
could determine. Halfway across we encountered a herd of
ten walrus sound asleep on a flat pan, affording us an op-
portunity of laying in a supply of dog meat. With the
Bowdoin at quarter speed we crept upon the herd with six
men crouching in the bows with cocked rifles. Following
the fusillade two walrus remained dead upon the pan;
others had taken to the water badly wounded. One was
harpooned from the rail and two others from our dory,
making a total of five. By the time these were cut up and
hoisted to our decks, it was blowing fresh from the south-
'ard and ice was packing rapidly about us, threatening to
block us in completely.

The danger was so imminent that time could not be
spared to hoist in our boats, one of which was seriously
damaged when we reversed our engine to extricate the
Bowdoin from an impending squeeze. Our two boats wereOUR GOAL IN SIGHT

83

abandoned with a man in each to work them through the
closing leads while the Bowdoin wormed her way to the
edge of the pack. The men, Goddard and Mix, soon re-
joined us in clear water and were taken aboard. The sky
looked decidedly threatening. Ice was driving up rapidly
from the southern horizon. A heavy fog bank could be
seen below Cape Alexander. Herschel Bay and Baird
Inlet offered no means of safety, since they were appar-
ently closed. Under full sail and power we scurried for
Life Boat Cove in a race against the fog bank. Within an
hour the Greenland shore was a great white wall of fog.
Breaks now and then disclosed familiar points, Cape
Ohlsen and the southern end of Littleton Island.

We passed northward between the Cape and the Island,
our objective being Life Boat Cove, although I was un-
certain as to the depth of water, and despite the fact that
I had never known of any ship anchoring there for shelter.
As we rounded into the Cove, heavy squalls from the high
hills were whipping the surface of the water into spray.
The color of the bottom suddenly changed from a deep
black to a yellow sand studded with gigantic boulders.
My yell from the barrel, 'Hard a-starboard!' was too late.
We were aground! And on a falling tide!

With engine at full speed and wheel hard over, aided by
trimmed sails, we slowly swung the Bowdoin on her heel,
and off she went like a scared cat for the passage between
Littleton and Eider Duck Island, where I knew there was
at least plenty of water, but at the same time the danger of
running ice.	,

We anchored in five fathoms, a bit doubtful as to what
might happen in such a narrow run. There was no sleep for
me that night. The heel of a ship is a veritable 'heel of
Achilles,' the vulnerable spot. A sharp crack on the heel
will often unhinge or remove a rudder from its pintles or
crush the lower end of a rudder post to pulp, utterly de-
stroying its usefulness. A ship is virtually useless without84

ETAH AND BEYOND

a rudder, although I am aware of the fact that a famous
American navigator sailed his ship backward without a
rudder for two hundred miles! A man deserves real fame
for such a feat as that. Not alone for this, but for many
other notable exploits, Captain Samuel Samuels has a
niche in the heart of every sailor man.

With a change of tide the Bowdoin swung across the
channel, her stern dangerously near the sloping face of the
hard syenitic shelf of rock. The storm continued to in-
crease in strength, a southerly gale with a fine driving rain,
and continued throughout the next day. Our Eskimos im-
proved the time by an examination of their father's egg
cache. Eider Duck Island is noted as the breeding ground
of eider ducks. In the past we have gathered four thousand
fresh eggs in a few hours! Our Eskimos arrived on board
with a bucketful, having found thousands stored for the
winter beneath the rock$ of the island. At any rate, come
what might, we were assured of an abundance of deli-
ciously nutritious eggs throughout the winter.

The wind moderated on Wednesday, but a cold drizzle
still continued with no promise of better weather. To re-
lieve the monotony of this enforced delay we put on oil
clothes and rubber boots and visited the historic cairns
on Littleton Island. No island is better known in Smith
Sound history than Littleton. Its history begins with Cap-
tain E. A. Inglefield, who gave it its name in 1852. Dr.
Elisha Kent Kane was the first to step upon its shores,
which he did on August 6, 1853. A citation from his
beautifully written narrative is of interest: 'Our stores de-
posited, it was our next office to erect a beacon and intrust
to it our tidings. We chose for this purpose the Western
Cape of Littleton Island, as more conspicuous than Cape
Hatherton; built our cairn; wedged a staff into the crevices
of the rocks; and, spreading the American flag, hailed its
folds with three cheers as they expanded in the cold mid-
night breeze/OUR GOAL IN SIGHT

85

Within a few minutes I stood on the western cape of the
island beside the cairn erected by America's first great
Arctic explorer seventy-one years before. The Hidings'
have long since been removed, but his record of being the
first to enter Kane Basin, his abandonment of the Ad-
vance, and his plucky retreat to Upernivik will live as an
inspiration to the youth of America.

Littleton Island next figures in the history of the British
North Pole Expedition of 1875-76. Here Captain Sir G. S.
Nares, R.N., K.C.B., F.R.S., landed and erected a cairn
on the southwest end ' containing a short account of the
movements and prospects of the Expedition up to that
time.' This also was readily found but a short distance
from the Kane cairn. One year later Sir Allen Young,
Captain of the Pandora, afterwards the famous Jeannette
of the DeLong Expedition, landed here four boxes and
three casks of mail matter for the expedition.

In 1873, the U.S.S. Polaris limped in under the island, a
wreck, squeezed to death by the pack, while nineteen men,
women, and children drifted away on an ice-pan. In 1881,
Lieutenant Adolphus W. Greely arrived in the Proteus.
He picked up the mail left by Sir Allen Young and
landed, against a possible retreat southward, six and a half
tons of coal. The remains of this coal cache were readily
found a few feet above high-water mark on the eastern side
of the island under Cape Ohlsen.

During the next three years Littleton Island was the
best-known point in the Arctic, for around it centered the
controversial point of the Greely tragedy. The First
Greely Relief, known as the Beebe Expedition, after spend-
ing forty fruitless days trying to penetrate the pack, landed
two hundred and fifty rations in a cove at the north end of
the island and covered them with a tarpaulin, anchored
with rocks, and so concealed as to be visible for only a few
yards. The Second Greely Relief, known as the Garlington
Expedition, planned to erect a dwelling and storehouse on86

ETAH AND BEYOND

the island in case the Proteus should fail to reach the
headquarters of the Greely party at Lady Franklin Bay.
Lieutenant Garlington's orders read that this should be
done on his retreat. Among his papers there was an un-
signed memorandum stating that the Proteus should land
her stores at Littleton Island on the way north. Lieutenant
Louis V. Caziarc, a clerk in the Signal Office, seems to have
been the only one to consider the possibility of the loss of
the ship north of Littleton Island. Garlington referred the
discrepancy in his orders to the Chief Signal Officer and
was told to follow the main instructions and to disregard
the memorandum.

The Proteus steamed past, to be crushed ten miles
northward of Cape Sabine. The relief party retreated to
Littleton Island and, before proceeding southward in boats,
left there a record announcing the disaster to the Proteus.
One year later, the Bear and the Thetis, the Third Greely
Relief, under the command of Commander Winfield S.
Schley, U.S.N., anchored here on their way northwards
and left a depot of seven hundred and sixty rations. A few
days later they were at anchor here again with the living
and dead of the Greely Expedition.

As I stood on the summit of that windswept, gray, bar-
ren, rock island, the events connected with its stirring
history were rapidly recalled: the Isabella scudding before
the gale of wind; Kane waving his flag at midnight; a
lone whaleboat starting south for help; the scurvy-riddled
retreating party of Kane; the death of Ohlsen; the battered
United States; the march northward of Hayes; the crushed
Polaris; the drift party; the retreat of Buddington; the
arrival of the Tigress; the Discovery, the Alert, the Pan-
dora, the Erik, the Proteus, Neptune, Yankton, Bear and
Thetis, Windward, Fram, Roosevelt, a long line with
colors flying and black smoke belching from their funnels,
battering at the ramparts of the white fortress of the
North to learn more of the secrets of what is apparently
a dead world.CHAPTER VII
WE SELECT A SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS

On Thursday, August 16th, large pans of ice began sweep-
ing through the passage, threatening to carry us out bodily.
Only a constant watch and use of engine and wheel offset
this danger. The instant the weather cleared and ice con-
ditions were favorable, I decided to go north along the
Greenland shore for a careful examination of all bights
and inlets with a view to wintering on the eastern side of
the Sound. From the heights of the island the Sound was
white with ice, and as yet offered no possibility of a cross-
ing.

In the afternoon the ice relaxed sufficiently to justify the
attempt. We passed the Cape Hatherton of Inglefield and
entered a harbor with beautiful white sand beach and
sand bottom five miles beyond, which I remembered from
my sledging days. I have named this Sewall Harbor after
Charles Sewall, of Wiscasset, Maine.

Sewall Harbor possessed many of the requisites of a
good winter anchorage and also the necessary require-
ments for the successful establishment of our magnetic
station. A further examination disclosed shoal water at
the head of the harbor where a ship must lie for protection
against the pack in the spring. I reasoned that this could
not be the Fog Inlet of Kane, with its 'forty fathoms of
water to within a biscuit toss of its northern headland.'
I walked on over the hills endeavoring to recall sites of our
old camps in 1914-15-16-17. Upon arriving at the summit
of an old raised beach, I found that a real harbor lay al-
most at my feet, dark and deep, a perfect shelter! Its
approach and narrow entrance were choked with heavy
drift ice. I noted that what lay on the surface of the inner88

ETAH AND BEYOND

harbor was practically without motion, indicating a lack
of any tidal current, and consequently but little pressure
during the winter.

On Friday, the 17th, we proceeded under power to this
harbor, finding plenty of water going in and four fathoms
within fifty feet of low-water mark. As the harbor was one
in hundreds and all conditions in it were so ideal, I decided
then and there not to leave a certainty for a bare possibility
in Ellesmere Land, since all our plans for scientific work,
the landing of the tablet at Cape Sabine, photographs of
birds and animals of the Far North, and a series of motion
pictures could be carried on here as well as elsewhere. And
we should be in touch by dog team with the winter meat
caches of our two Eskimo dog-drivers and also with the
abandoned caches of meat and eggs at Etah and Littleton
Island.

This harbor is undoubtedly the Fog Inlet of the Kane
Expedition of 1853-55, the place afterwards referred to
as Refuge Harbor. In noting bearings Kane often fails
to state whether they are true or magnetic. His state-
ment that the harbor opens to the north would certainly
discourage even the wildest adventurer from entertaining
any thoughts of a safe protection during the winter after
an instant's study of the contour of Kane Basin. The
central axis of the harbor extends in a northeast-southwest
direction, bending west at the outer entrance, and it is
therefore open more west than north. Its trend to the
west renders it safe from ice pressure.

In the afternoon I walked over to Cairn Point to ex-
amine the cairn built by Kane on August 9, 1853, and de-
scribed as follows:

Anxious beyond measure to get the vessel released, I forced a
boat through the drift to a point about a mile north of us, from
which I could overlook the sound. There was nothing to be seen
but a melancholy extent of impacted drift, stretching northward
as far as the eye could reach. I erected a small beacon cairn on4

Not a Comfortable-Looking Harbor

HfiiMHIMHHIfg

The Little Bowdoin tucked away in her Winter Home
REFUGE HARBORPROTECTING THE MAGNETIC OBSERVATORY AGAINST THE
LOW TEMPERATURES TO COMEA SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS

89

the point; and as I had neither paper, pencil, nor pennant, I
burned a K. with powder on the rock and scratching O.K. with a
pointed bullet on my cap lining, twisted it as the representative
of a flag.

A very careful scrutiny of the lichen-covered rock failed
to disclose the slightest trace of the 'K' after seventy-one
years of exposure to the elements. The reader of my
'Four Years in the White North'1 will recall my finding of
this very cap in 1916 under an iron pot some twenty-five
miles north of this point, in good condition and with 'O.K.'
still discernible. Following my return to the United
States, I learned with interest from Judge Kane, of Phil-
adelphia, that the family name was at one time O'Kane,
thereby explaining the mysterious 'O.K.' found in the cap
lining.

On my return to the ship I accidentally stumbled upon
the site of one of my old igloos, with bed still intact and
ground littered with pemmican tins and bits of biscuit
boxes, recalling a night spent there at sixty degrees below
zero and experiments upon bodily radiation of heat and
non-conductivity of the walls of a snow house.

On Saturday, August 18th, we began unloading the Bow-
doin, and before night had nearly everything on the beach,
including the meat of our five walrus. The men were so
tired that they were all in bed at ten o'clock.

Goddard began wppk at once upon the foundation of the
magnetic observatory, excavating for the cement piers, the
building of which permitted of no delay, since freezing
temperature militates against successful cement work —
a very good reason for our early decision upon the site for
winter quarters. Had it not been for our prospective mag-
netic work, we could have cruised and explored in the Bow-
doin for at least a month longer.

On the 19th we began our meteorological observations
which were to continue uninterruptedly for a period of
1 Four Years in the White North. Harpers, 1918.90

ETAH AND BEYOND

two hundred and eighty-six days. The equipment supplied
to the expedition by the United States Weather Bureau
consisted of a weekly barograph, a weekly thermograph,
three maximum and three minimum thermometers, two
psychrometers, a snow gauge, one compound wind vane,
and electric ammeter.

In the afternoon I ascended to the top of the highest
hill in the vicinity to determine its height, study its char-
acter geologically, and note conditions of the ice field in
Kane Basin. By aneroid, the hill proved to be fourteen
hundred feet in altitude. With interest I noted that its
very top consisted of a yellow sandstone abounding in
ripple marks, resting upon a thick bed of basalt, and this
unconformably upon a red syenite which encircled our
harbor. Ripple marks are characteristic of wave actions
in deep or shallow water, the type depending upon the
spacing, symmetry, and coarseness of the building material.
Assisted by supplementary facts observed later, I was
forced to the conclusion that these ripple marks were not
seolian, but formed under water, conclusive of emergence
of the land to the height given, in relation to the mean sea
level.

Elevated strand lines are a very common topographic
feature throughout the North. I have noted them fre-
quently all the way from the Straits of Belle Isle to the
most northern known point of land in the world, Cape
Morris Jesup in Greenland. They were observed also all
along the northern shores of Grant Land from Cape Union
to Ward Hunt Island; and at an elevation of more than a
thousand feet! This emergence of the land and corre-
sponding subsidence has been observed throughout prac-
tically the whole world. Geologists in general agree that
these diastropic movements are caused by unequal con-
traction of the earth's crust. There is good evidence here
at Refuge Harbor that this section of the North Greenland
coast is sinking — that is, in relation to the mean sea level.A SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS

91

On Sunday, August 19th, we broadcast through our
wireless the report of our arrival at the harbor and the
general health of all members of the expedition.

A snowstorm on the 21st and a freezing over of the har-
bor might have portended, to a new arrival, the early
approach of winter. Such occurrences frequently hap-
pen even throughout the summer, especially on still
nights when there is not enough wind to disturb or ruffle
the surface of the water. This phenomenon — for such
it is, since the temperature of the air may be several de-
grees above the point of freezing — may be explained in
this way: During the spring and summer months, May,
June, July, and August, there is a constant flow of fresh
water from brooks and streams issuing from beneath
countless snow banks, as well as a seepage from the now
thawing frozen soil. This fresh water from the land and
from melting icebergs, being lighter in weight than the salt
water of the sea, flows out on the surface of the harbors
and bays. The temperature of the former is about 32° F.;
the temperature of the latter about 29.2° F. The result is
a thin layer of ice. Ordinarily the slightest kind of breeze
will disturb the surface of the water sufficiently to prevent
this from happening.

With our little steel motor boat Jaynes cut the harbor
ice into triangular sections and by night all ice had dis-
appeared with the ebb tide.

A steadily falling barometer on the 22d gave indication
of an easterly gale and consequently a possible test of the
qualities of our new home as a harbor. We transferred our
two stern lines which ran to the beach to the bow chocks
and swung head to the wind to thirty fathoms of a twenty-
two-thousand-pound tested steel chain. If she went out of
the harbor the land would go with her! It was blowing hard
and snowing, the storm continuing without cessation
throughout the 24th. The hills and our deck were white
with snow, the former accentuated in height by their winter
covering.92

ETAH AND BEYOND

On Saturday the 25th we observed from the high hills
that there was a clear stretch of water southward; there-
fore, I decided to run down to Peteravik, fifty miles south,
after a load of walrus meat, cached there by Kah-ko-
tchee'a, one of our Eskimo dog-drivers. Following the
arrival of Jaynes and Bromfield with three seals (.Phoca
hispida) and five eider ducks, we hoisted all sail and with
a fair wind were soon at anchor in Cobb Harbor under
Sunrise Point. It seemed good to have clear decks again,
and incidentally strangely quiet, since we had left behind
our twenty dogs, the two Eskimo women, and little Kla-
ing'wa.

As a commentary on the variety of weather in the
North, I will say that during the night we had rain, snow,
and fog! This unfinished world is a bit reluctant to settle
down to anything approaching consistency. No, there is
one exception — bitter cold strong north winds through-
out the dark period.

We fairly drifted to Peteravik, being helped at times,
because of a strong head tide, by our small motor boat,
considering it more economical on oil than our 60 H.P.
Fairbanks & Morse. Quite a heavy surf on the beach made
landing and loading difficult, but we finally got away with
dory-loads of walrus and white whale meat — dead a
long, long time. I wondered if the once immaculately
white Bowdoin would ever be clean again.

It may encourage game conservationists, who justly
deplore so much killing of big game and fear total ex-
tinction, to learn that I have never encountered so many
walrus as were seen on the run to Cape Alexander. Their
heads and backs were appearing in all directions. The
Eskimo will enjoy his raw frozen walrus liver for many,
many years to come. If by disease or wanton killing this
animal should be exterminated, the Smith Sound native
will be compelled to pack up his belongings and leave the
country of his fathers and forefathers for more southernA SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS

93

settlements; for walrus constitutes the bulk of his food and
furnishes him with an invaluable supply of meat for his
dogs, a necessary article to a successful hunter.

On the way to Etah, I learned from E-took'a-shoo and
Kah-ko-tchee'a that walrus were in the habit now of re-
sorting to the fresh waters of Alida Lake at the head of
Foulke Fiord. To gain this objective it was necessary to
travel overland a distance of some four hundred yards.
I had read in books of 'sea-horse' being killed on land in
incredible numbers; of their being found in valleys far from
the sea, even on Anticosti Island in the Gulf of St. Law-
rence years ago; and of their having visited a pond on
Littleton's Island. And I had myself seen them sound
asleep upon the land, but had never seen them in fresh
water; therefore with interest we directed the Bowdoin
toward the head of the fiord. Not a single walrus was seen
in the water, on the land, or in the lake.

We now headed back for Etah which is in Foulke Fiord.
This is not to be confused with Port Foulke, which lies
outside of the fiord and around a point of land. The for-
mer, in which the settlement of Etah is located, was
Peary's headquarters in 1899-1900; the latter, the winter
refuge of the United States under the command of Dr.
Isaac Israel Hayes.

Etah is in many respects the finest wintering station
along this stretch of coast, but it has this objectionable and
anomalous feature — the waters of its harbor are too deep,
one hundred and sixty feet throughout the whole fiord,
which is roughly three miles long and one mile wide. It is
really a giant rock trough cut down through the successive
layers of sandstone, conglomerate basalt, syenite, and
gneiss, by one of the drainage glaciers of the great Green-
land ice cap, which at one time was much larger in area.
This cap, due to climatic changes, has dwindled to its
present size, five hundred thousand square miles in area.

There is indisputable evidence that it is increasing in94

ETAH AND BEYOND

size and that all glaciers in the Far North are again ad-
vancing toward the sea. My own observations have ex-
tended through a period of sixteen years, from Cape
York, 76° North Latitude, to the Humboldt Glacier, 79°
20', on the Greenland side, and from Clarence Head, 76°
45' to 80°, on the Ellesmere Land Coast. Lands and coast
lines placed upon the map seventy-two years ago are now
buried in ice. All old and middle-aged Eskimos of Smith
Sound have noted the advance and have commented upon
it. This does not necessarily portend another great ice age.
The advance may be but temporary, and the word 'tem-
porary' geologically admits of a wide interpretation when
we consider that the length of each one of the four glacial
periods was about twenty-five thousand years. The in-
terglacial periods, according to eminent geologists, varied
from seventy-five thousand to two hundred thousand
years! Therefore, a seventy-year advance in the North is
but a microscopic drop of moisture visible for the minute
fraction of a second. Nevertheless, the advance is of great
human interest and the 'why' and the 'wherefore' even
more so, considering that this is our home, the history of
which is filled with most miraculous changes since its birth,
seons of years ago.

We moored to the rocky bluff of Provision Point and
loaded on our decks all the cases of lubricating oil cached
there two weeks earlier against our return trip. We
needed them now for the construction of a box house for
our Eskimos. In the meantime various members of the
party bagged thirty eider ducks to add to our winter's
supply of meat.

A change of wind again compelled us to seek our old
anchorage on an excellent sand bottom in eight fathoms of
water at Cobb Harbor. A strange-looking object on the
beach proved to be a dead white whale, a lucky find, and
one which furnished our Eskimos with a large amount of
oil for their stone lamps. The next morning, Jaynes, God-A SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS 95

dard, and Bromfield brought in thirty-one more ducks, a
very welcome contribution to our prospective Sunday
duck dinners throughout the winter.

In the afternoon we started for Refuge Harbor with a
fair tide, but strong head wind, proceeding under power
between Littleton Island and Cape Ohlsen, up past Polaris
Beach and close into Cape Hatherton to avoid pans of ice
driving down the Sound. We found our harbor blocked
with ice, but, by bucking and a careful maneuvering
through the cracks, we wormed the Bowdoin to within a
few yards of the northern shore. The women and the dogs
stood on the beach intently watching our progress, having
been a little concerned over our prolonged absence.

Wednesday was a busy day with the unloading of oil and
meat, and the building of the large box house for the
Eskimos. McCue found time to bring in our first two
ptarmigan — Rheinhardt's so-called, one of the three
species found in this section. Kah-ko-tchee'a shot one
Arctic hare. A square-flipper or bearded seal (Pkoca
barbata) played about the ship for some time but escaped
unhurt.

On Friday, August 31st, Jaynes, Bromfield, and our
two Eskimos left for Etah in the motor boat to hunt walrus
and to cut, or rather to pull, hay! 'Haymaking at the
Pole' has not engaged the serious attention of a writer on
Arctic phenomena, yet much might be said about it in all
seriousness. I recall an amusing incident that happened
in South Greenland. The Eskimos of one of the central
stations were sent to the head of one of the fiords after
grass. They failed to return for several weeks. When
questioned as to the cause of their delay, they replied
they had been waiting for the grass to grow! The southern
exposure of Etah Fiord is a dense mass of strong matted
grass, an excellent non-conductor for the rock beds in the
igloos. How wonderfully Nature has provided for these
dwellers of the Arctic!96

ETAH AND BEYOND

By Tuesday, September 4th, I was very much con-
cerned over the non-return of the Etah party, fearing lest
walrus had attacked their boat, and remembering my own
experience in 1908 and 1909. I hastily prepared my
equipment for an early start in the dory for Etah, where-
upon Goddard and Mix both gladly volunteered to relieve
me of the undertaking. They left under sail at 3 p.m. with
a strong fair wind and falling barometer. Four miles to
the southward they met the motor boat bucking into a
head sea and well iced-up, but making excellent progress.
With the dory in tow they were all soon alongside, their
clothing a mass of ice and their faces blue with the cold.
They had plenty of grass, but no walrus! Incidentally I
may state that it is possible to obtain grass at Etah any
time in the year. The south-facing slope on the north
side of the fiord is buried with a broad-leaved tough grass
known as Arctic timothy (.Alopecurus alpinus).

By September 6th, the harbor was so firmly frozen over
that my men, all new to the Far North, declared that we
were in solid for the winter. The next morning the ice
had disappeared completely. And so it continued alter-
nately freezing and breaking until the 22d, when the
thermometer dropped to ten above zero, resulting in a
final layer of skim ice over the harbor.

Before freezing in for the winter I decided to run out
into the Sound for a last walrus hunt to secure if possible
additional meat for our twenty-two dogs. We left at 3
p.m. on the 11th and were rewarded with a six-hundred-
pound square-flipper or bearded seal (Phoca barbata).
A few minutes later the boys reported a fine big herd
sound asleep on the sloping shelf of a small floe berg.
Cautiously and at 'dead slow,' we crept around to the
back of the berg and out of sight. All the men were sta-
tioned on the bow of the Bowdoin with cocked rifles —
the very best. Attacked by such a battery all certainly
would not escape. I visualized a mass of meat for our dogsA SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS 97

during the winter. Although at the wheel some eighty feet
distant, I noticed the instant change of expression on
the faces of my men as the Bowdoin turned the corner of
the berg and knew that we had been fooled. 'Rocks!'
yelled one of the battery, and such our walrus proved to be.
It is not a common thing in the North to see boulders on
ice, but they do occur occasionally in such positions and
deceive both Eskimos and whites.

Before running back for the winter we sailed northward
to 78° 38', Cape Inglefield, which was the Bowdoin's
'Farthest North,' a world's record undoubtedly for a
vessel of fifteen tons register. Five miles beyond was Cape
Ingersoll, the great rocky bluff known to Kane as Sylvia
Headland, which guards the entrance into Rensselaer
Harbor, the two-year home of the American Expedition of
1853-55. Here the Advance was abandoned, fast in the
ice, and later burned by the Eskimos.

Having proceeded as far as I deemed it prudent to
venture, I swung the Bowdoin round for what was now
home, Refuge Harbor. In the meantime great pans of
newly formed ice had driven down from the north and
blocked our way completely. With considerable anxiety
I watched the steel-covered bow of the Bowdoin cut-
ting slowly through this tenacious, leather-like covering
which was not even old enough to crack. At times the
good little craft was nearly at a standstill, engine at
full speed and vibrating from keel to ice barrel. To be
caught here for the winter was not a pleasant outlook.
When we broke through the last connecting link, I felt
like a boy out of school on Friday afternoon. Within
two hours we were swinging to our anchor in our winter
harbor.

The men continued to bring in seals, eider ducks, sea-
pigeons, ptarmigan, and Arctic hares for our winter food
supply. They took advantage of every good day, for game
would soon be leaving us, and what remained could not98	ETAH AND BEYOND

be shot in the darkness, as the sights of the rifles could not
be seen.

I was influenced in my choice of the location for winter
quarters by the fact that our door opened southward over
a great stretch of water toward home, favorable conditions
for the sending and receiving of radiograms. Now that we
were established in our winter quarters, was it possible to
communicate with our friends, two and even three
thousand miles away!

On September 9th, Barnesley, 9 BP, Prince Rupert,
British Columbia, over three thousand miles distant,
heard our call and answered, received our telegrams for
our relatives, our message for the North American News-
paper Alliance, and notified us of the terrible disaster in
Japan and the death of sixty thousand people in Tokio,
Yokohama, and other places. On the 11th we were again
in communication, learning of the loss of seven United
States destroyers on the California coast. On the 13th we
listened to a musical concert from California, a unique
experience, since we were the first in the Far North ever
to hear the human voice coming from home. On Sunday
night, the 16th, gathered in the little forecastle of the
Bowdoin in winter quarters on the northwest coast of
Greenland, three days and a half journey to the Pole if
waters were clear, we listened to a sermon from WLAG,
Minneapolis, Minnesota.

As we worked our boat through the narrow leads back
and forth between the Bowdoin and the shore, there was
an excellent opportunity for observing the surprising
amount of life in those Northern seas, of which there is an
* Abundant progeny whose fruitful seede farre passeth
those on land'; wholly unexpected because of the fact
that they are constantly at a temperature of about three
degrees below the freezing point (32° F.,) of fresh water.
Yet cold waters are more favorable for an abundance of
life than warm because of the excess amount of oxygen in

ABRAM BROMFIELD STALKING A SEAL

BRINGING HOME THE MEATGLACIAL BOULDERS

THE LAST OF THE LAND DISAPPEARING BENEATH THE GREAT
GREENLAND ICE CAPA SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS 99

solution. In this fact we find the reason for the great cod,
halibut, and whale fisheries of the North. The waters
about our ship swarmed with a winged snail, a pteropod,
so black that the Eskimo name 'Too-da-wuk' (raven)
seems quite appropriate. In science this little mollusk is
known as the Clione borealis; among the fishermen 4 whale-
feed'; 'blackberries' and various other terms are used in
its description.

At night with every stroke of the oar or a disturbance of
a pan of ice the waters glowed with phosphorescence, that
strange cold light emitted by noctoluca, the character of
which is as yet unknown to our scientists. I have seen
medusae drifting by the ship at night resembling a dull
electric bulb beneath the surface of the sea.

Ice forming in the harbors and bays trapped great
numbers of eider ducks as yet unable to fly, but practically
full grown. The men brought in thirty-four on the 24th
and 25th. One of our Eskimos went to one of the many
lakes in the vicinity and succeeded in catching five beauti-
ful trout. At this time Smith Sound was frozen over com-
pletely, the ice extending south within two miles of Little-
ton Island. I knew from former experience that such a
condition was but temporary, as lower Smith Sound, the
waters between Cape Alexander and Cape Sabine, remain
open winter and summer. This is the nucleus of the so-
called 'North Water' of the early whalemen.

Our magnetic observatory was now in full swing, its
apparatus being connected electrically with the Delco
plant. A word on terrestrial magnetism may not be with-
out interest. We are all acquainted with the common
horseshoe magnet and its properties. As this plaything
attracts needles, nailsi or iron filings, so the earth attracts
the steel needle of the compass or any magnetized needle
freely suspended, and gives to it a determinate direction.
Just why or how it does this, no one knows. Just what this
inherent force is, scientists have not learned after patient100

ETAH AND BEYOND

years of study and research. The earth acts like a giant
magnet and is one, so far as we know, with the two poles of
every magnet, the North Magnetic Pole and the South
Magnetic Pole, not to be confused with the poles of rota-
tion, Peary's North Pole and Amundsen's South Pole, the
'ends of the earth/

The North Pole, known as the North Geographical
Pole, is at 90° North Latitude or ninety degrees from the
Equator; the North Magnetic Pole is in about 70° North
Latitude and 97° 30' West Longitude; in other words, in
Canada, in a territory known as Boothia Felix Peninsula,
northwest of Hudson Bay. The South Magnetic Pole is
an almost corresponding distance from the South Geo-
graphical Pole.

Although knowing nothing of the magnetic properties of
the earth, the Chinese as early as the second century
used the magnetic needle as a guide in overland journeys.
Dr. Nansen states that possibly the magnetic needle was
introduced into Europe by the Arabs, who had commercial
intercourse with the Chinese. We do not know when it
was first used at sea as a guide for the mariner, probably
a 'needle rubbed with the ugly brown lodestone; stuck
in a straw and laid upon water,' but possibly in the
twelfth century. But this is the important point — it
was believed that the needle maintained a constant direc-
tion and that direction north.

Columbus, on September 13, 1492, was the first mariner
to note a change in its direction as his ship sailed west-
ward toward America. Variation was not clearly re-
cognized until Button's voyage in 1612. Purchas, writing
of Button, states: 'This seemed strange that in this voyage,
as he searched many leagues East and West he found the
variation of the compass to rise and fall in admirable
proportion, as if the true magnetical Pole might be dis-
covered.' In other words, the needle varies in its direction
according to its location, its northern end, so called, en-A SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS 101

deavoring to point toward that spot in the Boothia Felix
Peninsula, known as the North Magnetic Pole.

Variation of the compass is the angle between true
north and the direction which the needle maintains. Ac-
curate navigation is possible only when this angle is known.
That is the reason for the very valuable work of the
Carnegie Institution of Washington in studying through-
out the world this mysterious force, which varies in its
horizontal and vertical intensity almost from minute to
minute. The needle considered so true is not pointing to-
day where it pointed last year, but is slowly swinging to-
ward the east in certain places and toward the west in
other places. All coast surveys, all charts would be utterly
useless without this information.

It may be of interest to know that at our winter quarters
in Refuge Harbor in North Greenland our compass needle
pointed a little south of west. At one of my camps in 1916,
my compass needle pointed south. If I wished to go north
I steered south by compass; if I would go east, then my
course was west. This force which gives direction to the
needle is known as horizontal intensity.

Equally interesting is the fact that as one goes north-
ward or southward from the Magnetic Equator, which is
practically midway between the two Magnetic Poles, a
freely suspended magnetic needle dips or tips downward
and continues to do so increasingly as one approaches the
Magnetic Pole. At the spot itself the needle is vertical, not
horizontal. This force which pulls the end of the needle
downwards is known as the vertical intensity. At Refuge
Harbor this dip of the needle was 85° 47'.

Our magnetic observatory, in charge of Richard God-
dard, was established under the direction of the Carnegie
Institution of Washington to determine the local hori-
zontal and vertical intensity of the magnetic needle, and
also for the study of atmospheric electricity to supplement
our work in Fox Channel and on the west coast of Baffin
Land in 1921-22.102

ETAH AND BEYOND

The hills were now white with snow, and harbor ice
was strong enough to bear the men anywhere with safety.
The Bowdoin was in her ice cradle for the winter. In a
good harbor there is absolutely no danger of being crushed
by ice, provided the ship is not in the tidal crack, which is
a gigantic mouth, opening, shutting, and grinding con-
tinuously. If the ice field is subjected to a strong running
tide or current and not restricted in movement by encir-
cling shores, there is danger of movement which results in
pressure ridges. Such nearly destroyed the Fram on her
polar drift in 1893-96.

When Captain Thomas James wintered at Charlton
Island in 1831-32, he resorted to the extraordinary ex-
pedient of sinking his ship to save her. That he was in
some doubt as to the success of such a novel procedure was
attested by the fact that during the winter a pinnace was
built for the homeward trip. He succeeded, however, in
raising his ship the following spring.

All summer birds had migrated south. Only ravens,
snowy owls, and a few ptarmigan remained, these three
birds to be with us throughout the dark period. The major
number of the last two, however, migrate to southern
Greenland or northern Canada. The ravens almost hiber-
nate, although the term, to my knowledge, has never been
used with reference to a bird. I have found one at the end
of the long, dark night sitting in a sheltered nook on the
cliffs in such a torpid condition that I sat down beside it
and studied its condition with interest. When the bird
opened its eyes and discovered me actually within reaching
distance, its expression and movements of alarm were
truly comical. It decided that it had overslept and would
be late to work!

On October 5th our first bear and caribou hunting party
left for Rensselaer Harbor. The sea ice around and beyond
Cairn Point northward was not deemed safe; therefore our
party, consisting of McCue, Jaynes, E-took'a-shoo andPREPARING FOR WINTER

READY FOR THE LONG, COLD WINTER NIGHTSALL SNUG AND WARM ON BOARD THE BOWDOIN

RECEIVING MAIL FROM THE UNITED STATES
It has traveled at least 9000 miles by steamer, kayak, and dog-teamA SITE FOR WINTER QUARTERS 103

Kah-ko-tchee'a, was compelled to undergo the severe labor
of tumping their equipment through deep snow to the
summit of the high hills north of our harbor.

The dogs, sadly out of condition following a four
months' respite from harness, wallowed up to their necks.
But how glad they were to be at their work again! But
who wouldn't be after being tied up by the neck for that
length of time! A dog's life is at its worst during the sum-
mer months, when, uncared-for and rarely fed, they lead
a miserable existence, little appreciated for what they
have done, and less for what they will do the coming
winter.

Now that the Bowdoin was fast in the ice our next
duty was to reclaim all of our bow and stern lines, the
former leading to the beach beneath the ice, and the latter
to a kedge anchor a hundred yards astern. With axe and
saw we soon had our anchor on deck and lines coiled on the
beach for drying. When spring southerly winds began in
June and early July, causing the harbor ice to move, our
heavy anchor with its forty fathoms of heavy chain would
prevent our driving onto the beach.

On October 7th we learned through our wireless that the
Canadian Government S.S. Arctic had returned to Quebec,
reporting failure to reach Cape Sabine because of heavy
ice fields.

That night we listened to a church service broadcast
from WOAW, Omaha, Nebraska, from the Bethany
Presbyterian Church of Council Bluffs, Iowa, the Rever-
end P. S. Netherby, pastor. Every note of the music and
every syllable of the words spoken was so wonderfully
clear that the church might just as well have been within
our harbor.

On the 11th we were surprised at the arrival of two
Eskimos, Kanga and his wife, Sulming-wa, the latter with
a litter of black pups on her back. They were returning
south from the caribou grounds, thirty miles northeast,104

ETAH AND BEYOND

to their home at Ig-loo-da-houny in Robertson Bay.
Needing bed covering for the approaching winter they had
crossed the ice cap of Prudhoe Land to the rolling country
back of Bancroft Bay, a distance of sixty miles, where
they had killed two caribou. Returning, they encountered
our party at Force Bay, to their great surprise, believing
that we had crossed Smith Sound and had established
winter quarters in Ellesmere Land.

I was not surprised to find Sulming-wa with Kanga, al-
though I knew she was married to Jacobshuna of the wry
neck, since temporary exchanges are of very common oc-
currence. It was whispered among the Eskimos later —
such whispers run round the world — that Kanga and
Jacobshuna went hunting together. Jacobshuna did not
return. The couple seem happy together, but it is rumored
that Kanga sees things at night, strange animals in strange
shapes, perhaps the restless, unburied soul of his hunting
companion.CHAPTER VIII
THE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT

Each day was a little shorter and each night longer.
Finally the day arrived, October 25th, when the sun bade
us good-bye for a period of one hundred and eighteen days,
not to return until February 18, 1924. The high hills
which bordered our harbor had cut off the rays a week or
more earlier; therefore our sunless period would be in
duration about one hundred and thirty-two days. Con-
trary to the current opinion about the Arctic night, we do
not experience continuous darkness from the date of the
sun's departure in the fall to the date of its arrival in the
spring. Our nights were dark throughout this period as
they are in the United States, but our days at Refuge
Harbor were twilight-lighted throughout the whole period,
the length of the twilight depending upon our latitude.

Watch the sun go down at night, the twilight which
follows, and the approaching darkness. It will not be dark
until the sun is eighteen degrees below the horizon. Our
latitude was 78° 31The sun's declination, or farthest
south, on December 21st was 23° 27'. Therefore at noon
the sun was never more than twelve degrees below the
horizon. True, the twilight at noon was of short duration,
but its recognition certain. In order to have total darkness
at noon, an expedition must have its winter quarters with-
in six degrees of the Pole itself, which is beyond the most
northern known point of land in the world. One expedition
only has ever had this experience — Nansen and his
companions on the polar drift in the Fram in 1893-96.

I mention these facts because so many explorers have
claimed or implied total darkness at their winter quarters.
They have also failed to state for the enlightenment of106

ETAH AND BEYOND

readers that there are as many moons in the North as in
the South and far more hours of moonlight to be enjoyed,
since the moon is continuously above the horizon each
month a period of eight days, bathing the snow-covered
hills and filling the dark fiords with a silvery flood which
transforms all into a veritable fairyland.

Of interest also is the paradoxical fact that the moon-
light is increasing each year in the North and will continue
to do so for about ten years. An expedition to the North
ten years hence is to be envied because of its prospective
glorious moonlight nights. Without being too technical, I
may say that this is so because of the so-called lunar cycle,
an increase and decrease in the moon's declination lasting
through a period of nineteen years.

On November 20th, I decided to run down to Etah with
our two Eskimos who wished to set a few fox traps in that
vicinity. Bromfield united his dogs with those of Kah-ko-
tchee'a, while I rode with E-took'a-shoo. It seemed good
to get on the trail again behind the dogs, to hear the crunch
of the sledge and the snap of the whip. But such a trip is
not all pleasure, else pleasure would be wanting. We found
open water dashing against the black cliffs of Cape Hather-
ton, and therefore were compelled to plod through deep
snow up the valley and over the Cape, sweating and puff-
ing. At length we reached young ice on the south side and
were away again as happy as boys, winding in and out
among the numerous icebergs frozen into the newly
forming sea ice and ever keeping a constant watch for
polar bears, for we all needed p&nts. A good-sized bear
will furnish enough material for at least two pairs, un-
surpassed in durability and warmth by any known mate-
rial. Caribou skin is warm and light, but cannot withstand
hard usage.

We reached Polaris Beach in four hours. From this
point, because of open water between Littleton Island and
the mainland, our route lay qvpr the hills to Etah. A hardTHE TEAM

HOW THE DOG TRACES ARE FASTENED
Let go one end of the rawhide line and away go the nine dogsBROTHER JOHN S GLACIER, ETAH FIORD

A GIGANTIC GLACIERTHE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 107

climb brought us to the top among jagged rocks projecting
up through the snow, which fairly ruined our sledge
runners. As we started south through the valley, the moon
broke through the clouds, bringing the inequalities of the
snow surface into sharp relief and greatly aiding us in
picking a route.

Etah Hill was as steep and as slippery as ever and
threatened to wreck sledge and dogs if we relaxed vigilance
or strength for a second. With constant application of
the twenty-six-foot whip our Eskimos succeeded in keeping
the dogs behind the sledges which were cautiously lowered
a few inches at a time until they safely reached the ice
foot above the harbor ice.

We drove rapidly up the fiord on the smooth sea ice to
Panikpa's home, abandoned as we thought. We were
delighted at the sight of a cheerily lighted window. Kanga
and Sulming-wa had found a good home — why leave it?
There were little auks cached under the rocks, walrus
meat aplenty, oil for the lamps, and ducks' eggs at Little-
ton Island by the thousand! 4 Good enough for us, so here
we are!' Yes, they were there with the pups scurrying into
all corners as we entered. The small rock-hay-wood-sod-
bone-cloth house was warm, but — how in the world
could six of us all sleep in the one bed? We all tried, but
one, the smallest, Kah-ko-tchee'a, was squeezed out and
slept behind the stove on a shelf.

The following day the men started for their fox traps
and I to Alida Lake and Brother John's Glacier, the former
named by Dr. Isaac Israel Hayes after a friend of Sonntag,
his astronomer; the latter by Dr. Elisha Kent Kane after
his brother, Dr. John Kane, of Philadelphia. With con-
siderable interest I crossed the glassy, windswept surface of
the lake to the face of the glacier, eager to learn of its
advance during the last six years. Its progress into the
lake and toward the sea was marked. Owing to the semi-
darkness I was unable to sight between my established108

ETAH AND BEYOND

marks of 1916 and thereby determine exact measure-
ments. But there is not the least doubt of the fact, which
is contrary to the opinion of all but a few of our eminent
geologists, that all glaciers north of the seventy-fifth paral-
lel of latitude are increasing in size. To supplement my
own observations extending through a period of sixteen
years, the natives all affirm that glaciers distant from the
sea during their childhood are now in the sea; that their
playgrounds at the edge of glaciers, once bare, have now
disappeared beneath the advancing ice.

Inglefield's map of 1852, showing the relative amount of
glacier-covered land, differs markedly from that of to-day.
Captain Inglefield reports Mittie and Saunders Island off
the eastern coast of Ellesmere Land in latitude 77° 12'.
These islands have been prominently displayed on our
maps and charts for seventy-two years. But there are no
such islands. Were two icebergs mistaken for islands, as
has often happened, or are they to-day under the advanc-
ing ice cap?

Dr. Hayes's map of Foulke Fiord, Alida Lake, and
Brother John's Glacier, drawn in 1861, reveals a striking
difference as regards the lake and the front of the glacier.
The valley is to-day filled with ice and the glacier dips into
the lake. I might cite scores of such instances of un-
doubted advance.

The present condition clearly indicates a cycle of in-
creased precipitation and lower temperature if nothing
else. As to the cause of such cycles, apparently in the
Alps and in certain parts of North America, students of
physical phenomena are not agreed. And as to whether or
not such an advance portends the beginning of another
great ice age, no one can predict. Nor do geologists agree
as to how a great ice stream moves, or apparently flows
like a river. Various theories have been advanced by
scientists, but these do not satisfactorily explain all
phases of the downward movement of the great frozenTHE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 109

mass, the drainage of the snowfall on the heights above.
The most popular, perhaps, is that of a melting through
pressure of each ice crystal in turn, a downward change
in position, and an immediate refreezing. That there is
a forward bodily movement of the whole mass, particu-
larly at the terminal end of the glacier, is certain, as is
clearly evidenced by the enormous pressure exerted
against the ice surface of the lake, causing rupture and
upheaval at every part contiguous to the face of the
glacier. Such a movement hardly coincides with the rege-
lation or melting-refreezing theory.

With interest I crawled in under the glacier as far as
possible and placed my ear to the surface of the ice and
with added interest I could hear distinctly a faint crack-
ling throughout the mass indicative of a tremendous strain.
Such might result from movement induced by expansion
of newly forming ice crystals through freezing. I eagerly
awaited the return of light in the spring to visit again the
most interesting phenomenon in the North.

Our six days at Etah were pleasantly spent in visiting
familiar scenes about our old winter quarters. In the
evening Kanga and Sulming-wa told me of their customs,
their traditions, and of their people long, long ago; even
of first man and first woman, as told to them by their
parents, and as narrated in their igloos during the winter
months when the sea ice freezes and people gather from
far and near.

Yes, although a very primitive people, they have pon-
dered over the creation of the world. They wonder who
made it, when He made it, and why He made it. Strange
that they should think it dropped down from above, not
in its entirety and as it is, but piece by piece, in view of the
fact that the accretion theory is being more widely ac-
cepted every year. Or is this belief founded upon the
tradition that many years ago ashes came down out of the
sky and fell upon their villages, not once but repeatedly.110

ETAH AND BEYOND

So positive were they in their statements that Peary and
other members of his party were quite convinced that
somewhere in the interior of Greenland there were or had
been active volcanoes.

'Yes, the world came from above, but the people?
There was one man and one woman, but where they came
from no one knows. Some say they came from the earth
as the dogs did. But at this time it was dark and there was
no light and there was no death; consequently there were
great numbers of people in the world, so many, in fact,
that all could not find food. Some one said: 4'It is better
to have death and light than live forever in the darkness."
Now we know how to die and it is better, for we have the
light. When separated from our friends by open water
during the long summer, we do look forward to the dark
days of fall and to our visiting month [November] when
the sea becomes a great highway, but it is the summer
which we really like. And why? Because there is food
everywhere. There are young gulls on the cliff, there are
trout in the lakes, there are seals at our very doors. Yes,
it is better to have death and have light and warmth of
summer.

4 Our people also told us that at one time our land was
all under water. We wonder when and why, and if it will
ever be so again. How could it happen? Does the land
move up and down like the sea? We think so. Some of
our old igloos are now too close to the water's edge.
When made by our people many, many years ago, they
must have been farther back from the sea. There is an-
other reason why we think this land was under water.
This cliff behind us is very high [11,000 feet], yet on its
very top, in fact all over these big hills, we find bits of
shells. Shells belong in the ocean, for there only can they
live. Yes, the sea flowed in over our land. But that must
have been long before we came to this part of the world.
Long, long ago we lived over in the land of the musk-oxTHE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 111

[Ellesmere Land]. Our tent rings and our old stone igloos
can be seen there now and even on lands beyond. Some of
our people came from a land south of the musk-ox land
[Baffin Land]. One of this band is even living to-day, and
old Merqusaq, the one-eyed bear hunter, who well remem-
bered it all, died only a few years ago. We have often
heard him tell the story when darkness had crept over our
land, for then we have time to think of the past and tell
of the great deeds of men who were stronger than we are
to-day.

4 Merqusaq was only a boy when Qitdlarssuaq declared
he was going on a long journey into the North to see a
strange people described by the white men who came to
his country every year in big ships to hunt whale. The
people believed in Qitdlarssuaq because he was an
"angekok," one who could talk with good and evil spirits,
who could even visit the lower and upper worlds, who
could even jump right out of his skin if you closed your
eyes and kept them closed. In those days there were many
such men. To-day they are all gone.

* So when Qitdlarssuaq declared he was going to a strange
land, many wanted to go, more than one can count on
one's fingers and toes, for that is the way we count. Be-
yond that it matters little; twenty is really enough. Things
did not go well. After two years of wandering some lost
faith in the great Qitdlarssuaq and wanted to return, and
many did, for they wanted to see their home again.

4A few went on northward and now they could see a land
to the east, which was our land here. It was but a short
distance across the ice and here they camped at Etah.
They found the stone houses of the Innuit, but no people.
Since it was spring, our people had gone down to Peteravik
to hunt walrus.

'But, much to their surprise, they did find a small
wooden house, which they knew was built by white men, for
the Eskimos never build anything like that. [Small ob-112

ETAH AND BEYOND

servatory left by the Hayes Expedition at Port Foulke in
1861.] With fire stone [iron pyrites] they made a fire in
their soapstone lamps. And here in the house they found
some black powder in a can. They wondered if it was the
same they had seen on the whaling ships. It was. It blew
the door off the hinges and blew one man right out of the
house! But no one was killed.

' Within a few days they met some of our people from
the south and traveled with them to their homes. They
remained here quite a number of years and then they
yearned for their own land and their own people. It is
always so with us. We cannot remain in one place long.
And so they left our land and started back. One family
remained, your grandfather, E-took'a-shoo.

' They journeyed north and crossed the narrow sea at
Anoritok and traveled south along the eastern coast of
that land which we can see from the door of our igloo.
When darkness came they stopped for the winter in stone
houses. Qitdlarssuaq died at that place. After traveling
another summer they camped again, but they were so
anxious to reach home that darkness came on before they
could gather food for the winter. Many died because they
had nothing to eat. And now they began to eat each other.
We have never known this to be done before. You have
often seen Merqusaq and you remember that he had only
one eye?'

4 Yes, I heard that he lost it in a fight with a polar bear/
I answered.

'No, when all were starving over there on that coast
one man tried to kill him because he was nothing but a
boy and could not defend himself. He gouged out one eye
and would have killed him had not Merqusaq's brother
helped him. Some went into the mountains and never re-
turned. Some were lost crossing the big glacier. None of
them ever reached their home in the west. A few struggled
back again to our land, and here they remained and diedTHE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 113

among our people. But their tales during the dark period
were always of their homes which they failed to reach.

'They are with their people now. All the stars which
you see in the sky are the spirits of our people. Some day
we shall all be together and living much as we are living
here, but with more warmth and light and food. Our life
there will not be a continuous struggle against evil spirits,
as it is here. We do not believe in one great good God as
you do, and we never ask such a God to help us. If there is
such a God and he is good, He will help us. True, we do
have our protecting guardian spirits who watch over us in
times of danger. We fear the evil spirits and try to ap-
pease them in many ways.

'When one dies, worn out as our sledges wear out, and
strength and life are gone, he is simply passing from this
life on to the next. To live beyond he must have his hunt-
ing equipment. His dogs are strangled and placed beside
his grave. His sledge is broken to release its spirit for it is
alive. It must be "killed." There you will find his har-
poon, his lance, his sealskin line, his knife.

' At the feet of the mother may be found her soapstone
cooking-pots, broken into small pieces or with bottoms per-
forated. There also her needle, thread, drying-rack, and
little oo-loo, the woman's knife. Yes, we must prepare for
the life beyond, for there we shall be forever. Our names,
however, with our qualities, return to earth and to our
friends in the body of a newly born child, so that they may
still enjoy us and be with us. A little child is never pun-
ished, for in the body of the little one may be the spirit of
your own father or mother.

4 Our dead are never placed underground. If they were,
the spirit could not leave and enter the body at will. To-
night it is at home within the body; to-morrow it may be
in a distant world. Immediately following death we wrap
the body in seal and caribou skins and carry it a short dis-
tance from the village and place it upon the ground, with114

ETAH AND BEYOND

sometimes a rock for a pillow, not facing the sun or back to
the sun, for our people often die when there is no sun. A
mound of rock is built over the grave. But no rock must
touch the body. The spirit must be free to go and come.'

To talk with people living almost as cavemen lived is a
rare privilege. In a single evening we span millions of
years of so-called progress and get a right perspective of
the past. Wonderful things accomplished and yet the
astounding revelation — the brain has apparently re-
mained unchanged for thousands of years.

We have here a very primitive people, I mean that they
clothe themselves in raw skins, never bathe, eat largely
of raw meat, live in a hole in the ground. They have no
books, no schools, no written or even sign language, no
marriage laws, no laws at all but the laws of custom, no
king or queen or chief, or leader of any kind, no music but
the most primitive, wanting really only two things, the
two great essentials — food and shelter; and yet it is my
opinion and that of every man who has accompanied me
on my various trips that these so-called savages are every
bit as intelligent as the most highly civilized. We often
confuse intelligence with knowledge. These natives are
really intelligent. They merely lack the essentials for pro-
gress — material with which to work.

We were up at two o'clock on the morning of the 27th
for an early start for home and Thanksgiving. By four we
were away, calling at our old winter quarters for two five-
gallon tins of seal oil for the Eskimo lamps. The top of the
Etah Hill found us puffing and sweating, although the
temperature was at zero Fahrenheit. We were preceded
by E-took'a-shoo with an enormous back-load of grass, in
the half light looking for all the world like a shaggy musk-
ox being followed by the yelping dogs.

At noon we were back in our comfortable cabins on
board the Bowdoin reading the many radiograms re-THE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 115

ceived during our absence, and in time for the Wednesday
night radio programme from the Edgewater Beach Hotel,
Chicago. Through the kindness of E. F. McDonald, Jr.,
a programme was especially arranged for our entertain-
ment on each Wednesday evening during our sojourn in
the Arctic. On this particular night we easily recognized
the voices of friends and relatives twenty-five hundred
miles distant!

Thanksgiving naturally recalled thoughts of home, of
fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and wives. We were all
happy to know that they knew just where we were and
how we were situated, a new experience for an Arctic expe-
dition. Being at 78° 31' North Latitude, or six hundred
and eighty-nine geographical miles from the North Pole,
possibly we were the most northern people in the world
to commemorate the day. The weather was clear, with
a strong breeze and thermometer twelve degrees below
zero, conditions not altogether favorable for our rifle
shoot by lantern light. Our individual paper targets
threatened at times to necessitate a 4 wing shot,' but even-
tually the scores were all in and tallied, showing Jaynes,
our engineer, to be first; McCue, the mate, second; while
Bromfield and Kah-ko-tchee'a tied for third place.

At 4 p.m., a very fashionable hour among the elite of the
polar regions, we gathered around our yellow pine table
in the forecastle and awaited impatiently for Bill, our real
cook, to bring on the various courses, consisting of the
following:

George Treat Cocktail
Tomato Soup
Roast Eider Duck with dressing
Sweet Corn
Sweet Potatoes
Apple Jelly
Mince pie Pumpkin pie
Plum pudding Nuts
Cigarettes Cigars116

ETAH AND BEYOND

As a result of this 'gorge' most of the boys dropped to
sleep immediately. Bromfield and I took the violin and
visited the Eskimos in their box igloo, and especially the
new baby, a month old. In the evening they returned our
visit and were entertained with motion pictures and a
very mild, and, according to a report, a decidedly unpal-
atable, 'home brew.' So ended the day inaugurated by our
Pilgrim Fathers.

It was now so dark that we obtained water with dif-
ficulty from the small lake among the hills a half-mile
north of the Bowdoin. This was carried daily in hundred-
pound cans on the backs of the men, each one of the seven
having a particular day in the week on which to supply the
ship with twenty gallons of water. One hundred pounds is
a convenient back-load providing one is walking on the
level and has secure footing. Our trail, however, lay down
a hard snow trail, made slippery by frequent spillings,
winding in and out and over numerous boulders. The vio-
lent motions of some of the men to avoid a fall with this
weight on their backs would have been extremely funny
had it not been for the seriousness of the situation. Luckily
we escaped with but a few bad falls which added a number
of stars to the firmament which have never been cata-
logued. Following one of these experiences, when I landed
flat on my back with the forty-quart heavy galvanized
milk can as a pillow, I adopted the more sane method of
transportation initiated by Jaynes, our smallest member —-
that of using a small sled.

E-took'a-shoo, our active native assistant, conceived
an even easier method of obtaining water from the lake
'among the clouds.' He would drive up with his dogs and
sledge and bring it down to the ship! I wasn't 'in at the
death,' but I heard about it! It was a bit difficult to learn
the details of what really happened and what the dogs were
dragging when they arrived home. The next day his fat
face lighted up with a gleam of intelligence when I toldTHE TWILIGHT OF THE WINTER NIGHT 117

him that down in the white man's country we had shoot
the chutes, loop the loops, escalators, moving platforms,
and revolving tables. He understood perfectly. The re-
mains of the sledge and the water were up on the side of
the hill. E-took'a-shoo carried his water after that as the
white man did!

On December 5th we enjoyed an Aurora, one of the
very few seen by us throughout the year. It was in the
form of a curtain extending from northeast true to south-
west, roughly toward the North Magnetic Pole. It is
strange to think of our being beyond the Northern Lights,
but such was our position. This electrical phenomenon
is not so frequent in the Far North as many believe, but
seems to center in a belt encircling the earth on about the
fifty-fifth parallel, which runs through the southern part
of Hudson Bay, Central Labrador, and Western Canada.
Just what the Northern Lights are, when they come, and
the cause, are questions which investigation in atmos-
pheric electricity is trying to answer.

December 5th was one of the expedition's festive days,
the birthday of my chief assistant and after-cabin mate,
Ralph Robinson. All birthdays were observed in our
little community with as much honor as conferred upon
Washington or Lincoln. 'Robbie' was always indefatiga-
ble in his endeavors to provide us with the best afforded
by the commissary on such occasions. To him I entrusted
the care of all provisions, the planning of each day's meals,
and a careful account of all foods consumed up to the
minute, and a list of food available for sledging parties.
I never knew whether we had one pound of sugar or fifty,
one barrel of beef or five. He relieved me entirely of every
detail of the whole problem.

Three birthdays in one week almost equaled the holidays
in Newfoundland! Bromfield, Jaynes, and Mix followed
each other in 'concussion,' as the cook said, on December
10th, 12th, and 15th. Robinson must have been thank-118

ETAH AND BEYOND

ful that our party consisted of only eight men, and that no
more birthdays were to be celebrated until some time in
March.

December 22d was the midnight of the long Arctic
night. On that day the sun had reached its farthest south.
Midday was practically as dark as midnight. A southerly
storm with strong wind and drifting snow was raging —
truly an Arctic midnight, but one which as yet had threat-
ened no evil, nor brought any impairment of health, nor
diminished in any way the general good feeling and hap-
piness among my men, not even when on that dark stormy
day Robinson unpacked our roasted Christmas turkey,
a generous gift of the Elmwood Farm of Leominster,
Massachusetts, and found it spoiled, due to imperfect
packing! The one carried to Baffin Land in 1921 and pre-
sented by the same farm was in perfect condition.

Fortunately we had a large jar of roast chicken which was
presented to us by the wife of my old college classmate,
Harlan Bisbee. This made an admirable substitute and
offered my men a choice between Greenland eider duck,
of which we had plenty, and a home domesticated product.

Our dinner, with the exception of the turkey, was gen-
erously given by the S. S. Pierce Company of Boston. It
included the following:

Epicure Fruit Cocktail Assorted Hors d'CEuvres
Filet de Shon Caviar Meli-Melo
Macedoine au Vinaigre Queen Olives
Clear Green Turtle Soup H. & P. Dinner Biscuit

Roast Stuffed Turkey, Brown Gravy Cranberry Sauce
Beach Plum Jelly Haricots Verts Asparagus Tips
Petits Pois Corn on the Cob
Candied Sweet Potatoes Squash Chow Chow
Plum Pudding with Sauce
Nuts Fresh California Dates
Malaga Raisins Preserved Skinless Figs
Glace Stuffed Cumquats Sugar Wafers Water Crackers
Roquefort and Cheddar Cheese Tea Coffee
Romeo Julieta Perfectos CigarettesTHE TWILIGHT OP THE WINTER NIGHT 119

It was almost with a feeling of guilt that we ate and ate,
and then tasted a bit more. Think of such a meal as that
at the top of the earth where so many former explorers had
craved even a half or quarter meal! Kane and his men,
only a few miles away, were eating the rats on board their
ship; Greely and his command across the Sound eked out a
miserable existence for a few months on a few ounces a day.
Our friends at home are inclined to pity us for our priva-
tions and lack of good food. Nothing makes a man quite
so small as undeserved pity or unmerited praise.

It was with even more pleasure that we watched the
Eskimos eat after we were through. They certainly en-
joyed our food and were fond of sweets, which neither
they nor their ancestors had ever had. They pride them-
selves on the fact that they can eat everything which we
eat (and much more), but we cannot stomach all that they
call food. To fail in this is a bodily weakness and merits
their sympathy!

We were in Santa Claus Land, only a few doors from
his splendid big ice palace filled to overflowing with gifts
of all descriptions. He could not fail to welcome us as his
guests and pay us frequent visits in return. The Eskimos
are well acquainted with him now and appreciate the spirit
of the day through their teacher-missionary, Mr. Ohlsen.

It was almost with tears in my eyes that I received a
Christmas gift from my old driver, E-took'a-shoo, a dog
whip, singularly appropriate and a reminder of many
happy days together on the trail. When our natives
gathered around our table in the evening, they looked upon
a curious assortment of packages piled high about a real
Christmas tree from Bustin's Island in Casco Bay. What
fun we had calling the names and surprising the Eskimos!
It is safe to say that they never received so many gifts at
one time in their lives.

A touch with the homeland added to our pleasure.
WOAW, of Omaha, Nebraska, was kind enough to offer us120

ETAH AND BEYOND

a special concert, the numbers of which were selected by
the members of my crew. In fact many stations and es-
pecially E. F. McDonald, Jr., of the Zenith Station in
Chicago, were overwhelmingly kind in offering what they
could to relieve the monotony of the long, dark Arctic
night. Messages of hoped-for happiness for the New Year
came pouring in nightly from throughout America and
even from far-away Honolulu.

The following message from the President, received
through Barnsley of the 9 BP, station of Prince Rupert,
British Columbia, was especially gratifying:

The best wishes with all compliments of the Holiday season,
and hearty good wishes, in which the American people join, for
the health and safety of you all, and for the success of the ex-
pedition.

(Signed) Calvin Coolidge

The National Geographic Society of Washington remem-
bered that we were endeavoring to carry out the mission
entrusted to us. Through General A. W. Greely, one of
their board, President Grosvenor forwarded the following:

Even in its days of darkest distress the Greely Expedition
made Christmas Day a day of rejoicing and prayers. Our most
earnest desire was knowledge of the health and happiness of the
dearest ones at home. Science and circumstances spare you such
doubts.

The National Geographic Society sends this Christmas mes-
sage of good cheer to all the members of the MacMillan Expe-
dition with its assurance that their health and success are dear
to our hearts. Happy New Year.

(Signed) A. W. Greely

Science had so annihilated distance that it was at times
hard to realize that we were living amid the scenes of
former expeditions, cut off as completely from civilization
for years at a time as if they were dwelling upon another
planet. Our experience recalled the words of Macaulay,
"Of all inventions, the alphabet and printing press alone
excepted, those that have shortened distance have done
the most for humanity/CHAPTER IX

WINTER ACTIVITIES: ESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP

Thus far we had experienced no extremely cold weather,
that is, cold for our locality; thirty degrees below zero,
Fahrenheit, being our lowest temperature on December
17th. Such a temperature with no wind to one properly
clothed is very comfortable. In fact, as I recall sledging
days with the thermometer at forty, fifty, and even sixty
degrees below zero, not one is remembered for suffering
entailed, but scores of days with strong wind stand out as
prominently as high peaks on a distant horizon. Wind is
the bitter and most hated enemy of the Northern sledge
traveler. It does more to rob men of good health than any
other one factor, for they will not exercise for health's sake
on blustering days. Sleep is substituted, and sleep kills
when it is not needed. I have seen more physical break-
downs in the Far North due to sleep than to the hardest
kind of cold work with dogs and sledge.

The great problem in the North is how to keep men
healthy during the dark and necessarily inactive period.
Exercise is imperative for men who are not only well fed
but overfed. I find the greatest incentive to get out and
tone up the body is a fox trap at the end of the line. A man
will put on heavy clothes, plod through deep snow and face
cutting winds to reach the hoped-for prize. He will return
iced-up and with frost-bitten face, but not discouraged.
The fox will be there to-morrow.

My men, with one exception, all had traps, which did
more to keep them in good health than any plan of ex-
ercise which I could have devised. We had no 'ladies'
mile,' or run around deck, or setting-up drill, and practi-
cally no sickness throughout the year. Scurvy, formerly122

ETAH AND BEYOND

the dread of all explorers, is not feared by men who eat
plenty of native food such as seal or walrus. Let it be re-
membered that this much-discussed disease was unknown
among the Eskimos, who eat nothing but meat. Lime juice,
fruits, bread, variety of food are not necessary for main-
tenance of health in the Arctic. Charles Francis Hall was
the first to test the truth of this more than sixty years ago.
Peary confirmed this later by repeated experiences during
his eighteen years of Arctic work. This truth was also well
known to our American whalemen more than eighty years
ago, and yet physicians would not believe. Even to-day
there is a law on our statute books compelling ships on
long voyages to serve so many ounces of lime juice per day
to each man as a preventive against scurvy!

Our days during the winter were spent in almost daily
walks, in tending fox traps, in keeping up the snow em-
bankment about the ship, in repairing our snow houses,
in bringing twenty gallons of water daily from the lake
among the hills, in keeping passageways clear of snow, in
visiting Eskimos in their igloos, in reading, studying,
writing, and in taking magnetic and meteorological ob-
servations. Following supper in the evening there were
always games on in the forecastle until midnight, such as
checkers, chess, fan-tan, mah jongg, the last-named ab-
sorbing the attention of four of the men for weeks. On
Sunday night we usually entertained our Eskimos with
motion pictures, very generously supplied to the expedi-
tion by the Pathe Company. In view of the general opinion
that life in the North during the dark period must neces-
sarily be monotonous, every one of my men remarked on
the rapidity with which the days were passing.

Each day following New Year's Day was brighter and
colder, confirming the old saying,4 When the days begin to
lengthen, the cold begins to strengthen.' Our coldest dur-
ing this month was forty-two degrees below zero. This in-
creased to forty-five in February, which proved to be ourESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	123

lowest temperature, warmer by fifteen degrees than I ex-
perienced at this same spot in 1914. This comparatively-
warm temperature can be attributed to the fact that we
were living practically within the immediate vicinity of some
five hundred square miles of open water, which maintains
a constant temperature, winter and summer, of +29.2° F.

In my five years of living in this vicinity, I have never
known Smith Sound to be completely covered with ice.
The Eskimos affirm that it never is. The radiation of heat
from the surface of this great mass must be enormous.
The result is a raising of the mean annual temperature by
several degrees.

In refutation of the claim by a well-known so-called
' authority,' that it is as cold in certain parts of the United
States as it is in the Arctic, let me state that there is no com-
parison, as our six years' observations beyond the Arctic
Circle prove. Such agree with the observations of Greely,
Nansen, Sverdrup, and Peary.

The minimum temperature officially recorded in the
United States by the Weather Bureau is — 65° F. at Fort
Keogh, near Miles City, Montana, January, 1888. The
coldest State in the Union is North Dakota, with a normal
annual temperature of +38.8° F., which was about the
average of our hottest month at Etah. Compare and con-
trast this with temperatures recorded by the Greely Ex-
pedition in 1881-84 when at their winter quarters at Fort
Cough, Lady Franklin Bay, where they experienced a mean
annual temperature of about zero. During our four years
at Etah, in spite of open water, our mean was +6° F.

Well protected by a snow covering, the Bowdoin pro-
vided a perfect shelter against this temperature. Designed
especially for low temperature with double sheathing and
air spaces, our ship showed hardly a trace of moisture in
her living quarters. The reader of Arctic literature may
contrast our experience with that of Kane, Hayes, Nansen,
and Peary.124

ETAH AND BEYOND

On the S.S. Roosevelt in 1908-09 our mattresses and
bedclothes were frozen to the bulkhead, and ice was fre-
quently chopped from the floors of our rooms and from
our inner decks. If moist air cannot escape, it is bound to
collect in a condensed form upon every cold surface. If
that surface is of freezing temperature, the result is ice,
which throughout the winter increases in thickness. Proper
ventilation is the remedy for this evil on shipboard. This
was accomplished on the Bowdoin by building a snow house
over our forecastle skylight, which was generally kept
slightly open day and night, permitting all foul and damp
air to escape.

We were disappointed in not having more Eskimo
visitors from the south. True, the nearest village was sixty-
five miles distant, but with a good dog team and good ice
such a trip is a pleasure. The reason was disclosed when
E-took'a-shoo and Kah-ko-tchee'a, our two natives, came
in on January 3d from Etah, reporting open water every-
where to the south. Furthermore, the Cape Alexander
Glacier and Etah district are known to be the windiest
places on the coast. Over and through this all sledges
must come to reach us at Refuge Harbor.

By the last of January, our natives were out of oil for
their igloos, a serious situation, since we needed every drop
in our tanks for the passage home. I suggested that they
return for a month or so to their homes, where each of the
men had oil in cache. They could return to the ship in
plenty of time for our spring work. Rather than do this,
they determined to try for seals at their breathing-holes,
a cold job at this time of year. Looking out upon the silence
and the darkness and the deadness of it all, I thought it
incredible that there could be a living thing to furnish
heat and light and food. Yet E-took'a-shoo, bundled in
furs, drove away on January 25th on what I thought must
be a hopeless quest. There on that great white stretch of
sea ice he discovered the tiny hole, which is about the sizeESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	125

of a fifty-cent piece; fashioned a seat from a block of snow,
and sat patiently for twenty-four hours with the thermo-
meter ranging from eleven to twenty-two degrees below
zero, and brought in his seal! There are still some iron men
in the world in spite of the debilitating effects of civiliza-
tion, and many of them live in the Far North!

And there are iron women as well! On February 8th a
stranger arrived, a baby born to Ah-tung-u'nah, in a snow
house with the temperature outside at 45.1° below zero!
Although it was the first child born to this young girl, there
were no doctors or nurses in attendance. Conditions were
far from sanitary and would have astounded the medical
fraternity. The secret — good health and a strong con-
stitution. The mother and child were perfectly well and
continued so up to the time of our sailing. The fact may
be of interest that Eskimo children are never born in a
regular winter home, a rock igloo, semi-subterranean and
buried with grass, skins, and snow. If mother or child
should die, as sometimes happens, the home must be in-
stantly abandoned by all and is never used, at least by
the present generation. The igloo henceforth will be oc-
cupied by the spirit of the dead. Strange how persistent
and almost universal this superstition, not only in the
minds of the highly civilized, but in the brain of the savage.

On February 20th, four Eskimos arrived from the south,
Oo'tah, who accompanied Peary to the Pole, his son,
Koo-e-tig'e-to, his brother, Poo'ad-loo'nah, and Oo'lie, who
was with us for four years at Etah. They informed us that
many had tried to reach us during the winter, but had been
driven back by wind and open water. Our visitors were
intensely interested in the ship, minutely examining every
article of our equipment. Naturally the motion pictures
astonished them beyond measure; and when they heard
human voices from home coming through our loud-speaker,
I wondered if they really believed that we were listening
to friends twenty-five hundred miles away. At any rate,126

ETAH AND BEYOND

the word went down the line that we were hearing voices
and they wondered — so did we!

On March 12th, I decided to cross Smith Sound to Cape
Sabine and visit the Starvation Camp of Greely, a recon-
naissance of a trip later when we planned to sledge the
bronze memorial tablet to Ellesmere Land. I was also de-
sirous of establishing a magnetic station at this point,
which might be used for future reference by the Carnegie
Institution. The more numerous such stations about the
Magnetic Pole, the more accurate will be our knowledge
concerning the secular changes in the earth's magnetism.

E-took'a-shoo, Kah-ko-tchee'a, Bromfield, and I got
away about eleven o'clock with two sledges and twenty
dogs, traveling on a smooth belt of ice bordered on right and
left by the crumpled pack. The progress on such a trip is
always uncertain, as this stretch of twenty-eight miles
differs markedly from year to year, its condition depending
upon prevailing winds the preceding fall. I have crossed
repeatedly in six hours, having excellent sledging surface
from shore to shore, while in other years the passage has
consumed two days, each man resorting to a pick to hew a
way for his dogs and sledge.

When about halfway across, our highway swung to the
southward toward open water. Rather than attempt the
rough ice, we followed the trend of the curve, and were
happy to find an old floe of some five miles in width over
which we headed for Brevoort Island at a rapid pace.
Passing by Payer Harbor, the winter quarters of Peary in
1900-02, we proceeded along the northern shore of Bed-
ford Pim Island to the site of Camp Clay. We built our
snow house in a small cove or bight to the east of Ceme-
tery Ridge, the same, I suppose, where the relief party
landed on that memorable Sunday evening of June 22,
1884.

Although we had been eleven hours on the road, and the
thermometer was at twenty-six degrees below zero, IESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	127

could not crawl into my sleeping-bag until I had again
visited the camp, the whole setting of which had so im-
pressed me upon two previous visits.

Cemetery Ridge was swept bare of snow, revealing ten
shallow graves, one bordered by a row of stones, that of
Sergeant Cross, who was the first to die. The site of the
tent where the survivors were found was easily recognized
by the ring of rocks which held it down. The ground was
littered with odds and ends of every description. Before
us lay Cross Lake, the source of their water supply, and
beyond were the four walls of their miserable hut, twenty-
five by seventeen feet, sharply outlined against the snow-
white background. It was at its best a bleak, desolate
spot for a home, being situated on the north side of the
island and subjected to terrific cold winds sweeping across
Buchanan Bay, as numerous zastrugi indicated. It was
bleak beyond description, but hallowed ground. No place
on earth will ever move me like that frozen bit of bare soil
where those men suffered and died. The present genera-
tion may not be familiar with the details. Let me quote
from 'The Rescue of Greely':

It was half-past eight o'clock in the evening as the cutter
steamed around the rocky bluff of Cape Sabine, and made her
way to the cove, four miles further on, which Colwell remem-
bered so well from his hurried landing with the stores on the
terrible night following the wreck of the Proteus. The storm,
which had been raging with only slight intervals since early the
day before, still kept up, and the wind was driving in bitter gusts
through the openings in the ridge that followed the coast to the
westward. Although the sky was overcast, it was broad daylight
— daylight of a dull winter afternoon — and as the cutter passed
along, Colwell could recognize the familiar landmarks of the
year before; the long sweep of the rocky coast, with its ice foot
spanning every cove, the snow gathered in the crevices, the pro-
jecting headlands, and the line of the ice pack which had ground
up the Proteus, dimly seen in the mists to the north, across the
tossing waters of Kane Sea. At last the boat arrived at the site
of the wreck-cache, and the shore was eagerly scanned, but128

ETAH AND BEYOND

nothing could be seen. Rounding the next point, the cutter
opened out the cove beyond. There, on the top of a little ridge,
fifty or sixty yards above the ice foot, was plainly outlined the
figure of a man. Instantly the coxswain caught up the boat hook
and waved his flag. The man on the ridge had seen them, for he
stooped, picked up a signal flag from the rock, and waved it in
reply. Then he was seen coming slowly and cautiously down the
steep rocky slope. Twice he fell down before he reached the foot.
As he approached, still walking feebly and with difficulty, Col-
well hailed him from the bow of the boat:

'Who all are there left?'

'Seven left.'

As the cutter struck the ice, Col well jumped off and went up
to him. He was a ghastly sight. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes
wild, his hair and beard long and matted. His army blouse, cov-
ering several thicknesses of shirts and jackets, was ragged and
dirty. He wore a little fur cap and rough moccasins of untanned
leather tied around the leg. As he spoke, his utterance was thick
and mumbling, and in his agitation his jaws worked in convulsive
twitches. As the two met, the man, with a sudden impulse, took
off his glove and shook Colwell's hand.

'Where are they?' asked Col well, briefly.

'In the tent,' said the man, pointing over his shoulder, 'over
the hill — the tent is down.'

'Is Mr. Greely alive?'

'Yes, Greely's alive.'

'Any other officers?'

'No.' Then he repeated absently, 'The tent is down.'

'Who are you?'

'Long.'

Before this colloquy was over, Lowe and Norman had started
up the hill. Hastily filling his pockets with bread, and taking the
two cans of pemmican, Colwell told the coxswain to take Long
into the cutter, and started after the others with Ash. Reaching
the crest of the ridge, and looking southward, they saw spread
out before them a desolate expanse of rocky ground, sloping
gradually from a ridge on the east to the ice-covered shore,
which at the west made in and formed a cove. Back of the level
space was a range of hills rising up eight hundred feet, with a
precipitous face, broken in two by a gorge, through which the
wind was blowing furiously. On a little elevation directly in
front was the tent. Hurrying on across the intervening hollow,WHERE GREELY AND HIS PARTY WAITED SO LONG FOR HELP
TO COME

THE LOOKOUT POINT OF THE GREELY PARTY AT CAPE SABINE

TRAVEL BY DOG-TEAM OVER LONG WHITE STRETCHES

KAH-KO-TCHEE-A, BROMFIELD, AND E-TOOK-A-SIIOO BACK
FROM A SPRING TRIPESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	129

Col well came up with Lowe and Norman, just as they were
greeting a soldierly looking man who had come out from the tent.

As Col well approached, Norman was saying to the man:
'There is the Lieutenant.' And he added to Colwell: 'This is
Sergeant Brainard.'

Brainard immediately drew himself up to the 'position of the
soldier,' and was about to salute, when Colwell took his hand.

At this moment there was a confused murmur within the tent,
and a voice said: 'Who's there?'

Norman answered, 'It's Norman — Norman who was in the
Proteus.'

This was followed by cries of 'Oh, it's Norman!' and a sound
like a feeble cheer.

Meanwhile one of the relief party, who in his agitation and
excitement was crying like a child, was down on his hands and
knees trying to roll away the stones that held down the flapping
tent cloth. The tent was a 'tupik' or wigwam tent, with a fly
attached. The fly with its posts and ridge-pole had been wrecked
by the gale which had been blowing for thirty-six hours, and the
pole of the tupik was toppling over, and only kept in place by the
guy-ropes. There was no entrance except under the flap opening,
which was held down by stones. Colwell called for a knife, cut
a slit in the tent cover, and looked in.

It was a sight of horror. On one side, close to the opening,
with his head toward the outside, lay what was apparently a dead
man. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were opened, but fixed and
glassy, his limbs were motionless. On the opposite side was a
poor fellow, alive, to be sure, but without hands or feet, and with
a spoon tied to the stump of his right arm. Two others, seated
on the ground, in the middle, had just got down a rubber bottle
that hung on the tent-pole, and were pouring from it into a tin
can. Directly opposite, on his hands and knees, was a dark man
with long matted beard, in a dirty and tattered dressing-gown,
with a little red skull cap on his head, and brilliant, staring eyes.
As Colwell appeared, he raised himself a little, and put on a
pair of eye-glasses.

'Who are you?' asked Colwell.

The man made no answer, staring at him vacantly.

'Who are you?' again.

One of the men spoke up: 'That's the Major — Major Greely.'

Colwell crawled in and took him by the hand, saying to him
'Greely, is this you?'130

ETAH AND BEYOND

4 Yes,' said Greely, in a faint, broken voice, hesitating and
shuffling with his words. 4 Yes — seven of us left — here we are
■— dying — like men. Did what I came to do — beat the best
record.'

Then he fell back exhausted.

The four men in the tent with Greely were two sergeants,
Elison and Fredericks; Bierderbick, the hospital steward; and
Private Connell, who, with Brainard and Long, were all that re-
mained of the twenty-five members of the Lady Franklin Bay
Expedition. The scene, as Colwell looked around, was one of
misery and squalor. The rock floor was covered with cast-
clothes, and among them were huddled together the sleeping
bags in which the party had spent most of their time during the
last few months. There was no food left in the tent but two or
three cans of a thin, repulsive-looking jelly, made by boiling
strips cut from the sealskin clothing. The bottle on the tent-pole
still held a few teaspoonfuls of brandy, but it was their last, and
they were sharing it as Colwell entered. It was evident that
most of them had not long to live.

Connell was for the moment in the worst condition of all.
When Colwell first saw his nearly inanimate body, it seemed
that life was extinct; and in fact he had almost ceased to breathe.
He was speechless, his heart barely pulsating, his body cold, and
all sensation gone. The brandy which his companions were
giving him revived him a little, and with returning consciousness,
he could just gather the idea that relief had come, and that he
must brace himself to live.

Elison, who was next to him, though not in such dire ex-
tremity, was little better off. His hands and feet had been frozen
off in a journey made seven months before, in a vain attempt to
get the English meat at Cape Isabella, and all that time he had
lain helpless in his sleeping-bag. Cared for by the others,
mind and body had wasted somewhat less than theirs, but he had
nearly reached the limit of his endurance.

The two others in the tent, Sergeant Fredericks, and Bier-
derbick, the hospital steward, were too weak and exhausted to
stand long, much less to walk. Their worst symptom, apart from
their weakness, was their swollen condition. In their experience
of the last six months, when they had seen the others pass away,
one after another, they had learned to recognize this as the
surest sign of the approaching end, and, although now their
faculties were more or less blunted, they had realized that theESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	131

hand of death was on them, and that a little more would put an
end to the horrors of existence. Except Connell and Elison, the
feeblest of the party was Lieutenant Greely. His strength was
failing fast. He could not stand upright, and for some time he
had not left his sleeping-bag. He lived on the food which the
others brought him, but all pangs of hunger had ceased, and his
wasted form and sunken eyes and swollen joints told plainly
enough what was in store for him.

The two other survivors of the party, Long and Brainard, who
had been first found, were in somewhat better condition. They
were men of more than ordinary endurance, and it is of course
idle to speculate upon what might have been their end if relief
had not been in hand. Brainard, though much weakened, had
latterly been Lieutenant Greely's right-hand man. Long had
been the hunter for the starving party, and it was necessary to
increase his pittance of food above that of the others, so that he
might have strength for his work, but the effects of his continued
effort could be seen in his wasted body. His journeys had grown
shorter and shorter from week to week, and in the stormy
weather which prevailed during much of the time at Cape Sa-
bine, he could not go at all. As soon as Colwell understood the
condition of affairs, he sent Chief-Engineer Lowe back to the
cutter to put off to the Bear with Long, to report what had hap-
pened, and bring off the others with surgeon and stimufants.
Fredericks and Bierderbick presently got up and came out.
Colwell gave them, as well as Greely and Elison, a little of the
biscuit he had in his pocket, which they munched slowly and
deliberately. Then he gave them another bit, while Norman
opened one of the cans of pemmican. Scraping off a little with
a knife, Colwell fed them slowly by turns. It was a pitiable sight.
They could not stand up and had dropped down on their knees,
and held out their hands, begging for more. After they had each
been fed twice, they were told that they had had enough, that
they could not eat more then without danger; but their hunger
had now come back with full force, and they begged piteously to
be helped again, protesting that it could do them no harm. . . .

Meanwhile the Bear had arrived and Lowe had gone off in the
cutter, taking with him Sergeant Long. Long was too weak to
get on board without assistance, and was lifted over the side by
some of the crew and taken to a chair in the ward-room. In
reply to questions about the party and their condition, Long, in
a husky voice, told his story: that all were dead except Greely132

ETAH AND BEYOND

and five others, who were on shore in 'sore distress — sore dis-
tress '; that they had had a hard winter, and ' the wonder was how
in God's name they had pulled through.' No words can describe
the pathos and this man's broken and enfeebled utterance, as he
said over and over ' a hard winter — a hard winter'; and the
officers who were gathered about him in the ward-room felt an
emotion which most of them were at little pains to conceal. The
first sign of the relief expedition which had reached the camp was
the sound from the steam whistle of the Thetis, recalling the
shore parties at Payer Harbor. Lieutenant Greely, lying on the
ground in his tent, had heard it, as it was borne faintly over the
neck of land, but the others had not noticed it in the roaring
wind, and when he told them he had heard a steamer's whistle,
they thought it only the impression of his disturbed imagination.
Long crawled out of the tent and bracing himself against the
wind, struggled up the ridge; but nothing could be seen but the
i rocky coast, and the ice foot, and the chopping sea with the pack
stretching off in the the distance. It was a bitter disappoint-
ment. Long went back disheartened, but after waiting uneasily
a little while longer, he mounted the ridge a second time. Still
there was nothing to be seen but the same hopeless prospect, and
he was about to return again when the cutter came into view
around the point above. After all these months of waiting, it
was hard to believe that he was not dreaming, but when he saw
the coxswain wave the familiar flag, he knew that relief had come
at last.

The next morning I went over the ground more mi-
nutely to select a fitting mount for the tablet. Fortu-
nately, there were several huge boulders scattered about the
grounds, several in the immediate vicinity of the hut and
two or three at the south end of the lake at the base of
Cemetery Ridge. A flat and preferably a sloping face was
necessary; and this we found upon an erratic of fifty or
more tons in weight, similar in texture and composition
to the rock of Bache Peninsula across the Bay. Here I
decided to place the tablet.

This done, from Signal Hill I studied the stretch of rough
ice, bordering the whole north side of the island, selecting
the most practicable route and entry into camp with ourESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	133

heavy sledges at some future date when suitable weather
should permit.

We awoke on Friday to the roar of wind and drifting
snow, and appreciated more fully the difficulties and trials
experienced by that disheartened and weakened band of
starving men. A contrast with our condition was inevita-
ble: a comfortable snow igloo, the bed deep in furs, plenty
of food and fuel, good dogs, strong sledges to go where we
would, north, south, east, or west, where we could and
should find food. We spent the day, I telling stories of the
home land, which I could easily imagine to be on another
planet; a land of great cities, of crowded streets, of a rush-
ing, hurrying people, going no one knew where. They told
me of quiet places, of stretching ice fields, of contentment,
happiness, home, and of that great mystic land beyond the
home.

Saturday, we were off for the end of the Cape to visit
the English cairn of 1875, the Greely cairns of 1883, and
to obtain photographs of Brevoort Island and Payer Har-
bor. This done, we swung out across the Sound, passing
several huge tracks, and headed for home through a thick
snowstorm, which whitened the men, dogs, and sledges.
With the wind as our compass, we held our course over
smooth and rough ice and finally emerged into a bright
sunshine and a clear view of the Greenland coast at the
end of the trail off Cairn Point. We were on board the
Bowdoin at eight-thirty in the evening, feeling assured
that one important purpose of our expedition would be
accomplished in the near future.

Upon my arrival, I found an Eskimo boy on board, who
with an excellent team of dogs had driven through from
Keate, ninety miles to the south, to obtain medical assist-
ance for a young man who was dying. The nature of his
trouble we could not definitely determine. That he was
growing weaker day by day and was bleeding from mouth
and nose, and that his lungs were affected would indicate
tuberculosis.134

ETAH AND BEYOND

Reluctantly, and with regret, I was compelled to inform
the bright-looking lad that we had no doctor on the ex-
pedition, but that we would send medicine or anything
we had which he thought the dying man would want. We
made up a box of delicacies which I hoped might brighten
his few remaining days, but the young man was dead when
the boy arrived home, although he drove straight through
to his home without a stop or sleep.

Unknown here until a few years ago tuberculosis has
undoubtedly invaded the extreme North, and will hence-
forth exact its toll. Considering their tent life during the
five months of spring and summer and the free circulation
of air in their rock igloos, one would naturally suppose
such an evil to be impossible. Many of their houses, how-
ever, are overcrowded, and many I have noticed now have
doors. With no medical advice or assistance of any de-
scription and amid conditions grossly unsanitary, such
might be expected with the arrival of civilization; and by
civilization I mean white man's food, clothing, ways of liv-
ing, and half-breed immigrants from South Greenland.

On the 18th, five dog teams came galloping into the
harbor. Three of the drivers were old friends, Oo-bloo'ya,
who had given me my first ride behind dogs sixteen years
earlier, and who accompanied the Peary party on the polar
dash, his brother, In-you-gee'to, and Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa,
one of my men in 1916. Each sledge contained large
frozen chunks of fresh walrus meat. They had the good
fortune to encounter a herd of these animals below Cape
Alexander and harpooned them on young ice.

Their objective, after seeing the Bowdoin and its
crew, was the Humboldt Glacier, one hundred and fifteen
miles north in a quest for the King of the North, the polar
bear. Their pants were becoming worn, therefore their
journey to Nature's storehouse. How simple their wants
on such a trip — a sleeping-bag and a few pieces of raw
meat!ESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	135

They returned seventeen days later with five beautiful
skins and with sledges heavily laden. Their assertion that
it had been very cold was borne out by a glance at their
faces, all of which were badly frost-bitten. Unmindful of
this and happy as boys, they drove off to the south to be
admired by the inhabitants of every village through which
they passed. A good bear hunter is universally esteemed
and highly respected among the polar Eskimos. They are
not bowing to false idols. They fully realize that after all
is said the producer of food is the important man of the
community.

On the 28th of March, I left the ship again, accompanied
by our two Eskimos and Bromfield, for a trip south to
Sulwuddy, fifteen miles below Cape Alexander with a
possible walrus hunt in view. Arriving at Polaris Beach
where the S.S. Polaris was lost in 1873, we swung over out-
side of Littleton Island to Eider Duck Island to open up
a big cache of eider ducks' eggs placed there by Panikpak
the preceding summer. The cache was readily found and
supplied us with a hundred or more golden nuggets, as I
like to think of them, a very nutritious and palatable
food eaten just as they are in a frozen state, all perfectly
fresh.

Had my eyes been closed when we rounded Sunrise
Point, I should have known I was approaching Etah. The
ever-present keen cutting wind was tumbling down the
glacier from the ice cap and rushing over fiord ice as if the
very devil were behind it. We ducked our heads low on
the sledges, yelled to the dogs, and fought every inch of
the way to the igloo three miles away. At times the dogs
were stopped completely by a terrific blast and the sledges
rolled nearly bottom up.

How different our reception from that of our last visit!
Then there was a woman in the home. The igloo was warm,
well-lighted, dry, and comparatively clean. Now no glow-136

ETAH AND BEYOND

ing lamp, no fur-covered bed, no heat; walls and roof were
white with frost. With both Primus stoves at full blast
and an Eskimo stove to add its mite, we could not raise
the temperature to zero! To be comfortable we were soon
in our sleeping-bags and asleep within a few minutes.

Monday the gale continued. That our cross-breed
house, half Eskimo, half white, was not windproof was
very evident from the bulging of the sealskin lining when a
particularly heavy squall swept over our roof. We were
glad to pack up in the morning and, with backs to the
wind, gallop down the fiord and head south for the Crystal
Palace Glacier.

As we started the descent on the south side, E-took'a-
shoo stopped his dogs and called my attention to the open
water extending to the horizon. It was useless to go on
along the coast. Travel must be by ice foot and that un-
certain, owing to precipitous snow banks. There were two
things to do, go back to our ship or go over the ice cap to
Nerky, thirty miles south. We concluded to go over rather
than return.

As we traveled up the glacier and approached its junc-
tion with the ice cap, I took particular pains to confirm
what I had observed several years before. For a short
distance our progress was decidedly downhill, or, in other
words, the glacier had a backward slope. This is apparently
so contradictory to the general theory of glacier movement
that it is of interest. This is also true of the upper end of
the Morris Jesup Glacier. The weight and power exerted
by the ice in its last rapid fall from the ice cap is sufficient
to force that with which it comes in contact up a gentle
slope for a short distance.

We plodded up, up, up, the summit of the white dome
ever receding. Finally, black hills behind us dropped
below the horizon, with the almost instant appearance
of the crests of Northumberland and Herbert Islands.
On the very summit we rested our dogs and ourselvesAK-KOM-MO-DING-WA

A NORTH GREENLAND ESKIMO

"1OFF TO THE SOUTH ON A VISIT TO THE ESKIMOS

A BAD CORNER TO GET BY-ONE OF THE DIFFICULTIES IN

SPRING SLEDGINGESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	137

and crouched in the lee of the sledges, each man munch-
ing a biscuit.

The ride down the glacier is always a keen pleasure and
may be more than exhilarating; a pleasure because the
dogs are relieved of their heavy drag and, with tightly
curled tails, erect ears, and lolling tongues, go bounding
down the slope as if life were really worth living. Exciting
because the sledge goes faster than the dogs, which, if not
skillfully managed, inevitably results in a tangled mess of
dogs, traces, men, and sledge, the last on its side or bottom
up. It happened that the wind-packed snow was of just the
right hardness to serve as a slight drag on the sledges, en-
abling the dogs to keep ahead of us. Away we went skim-
ming down onto the back of a magnificent glacier, known
as the Clements Markham, strikingly picturesque on a
sunlit day, flanked by black precipitous cliffs splashed with
glittering white hanging glacierettes.

Our immediate objective was a snow house at Peteravik;
but to my surprise when we reached sea ice, the Eskimos
wished to keep right on for Nerky, although we had al-
ready been on the road twelve hours and were covered
with cold sweat from our laborious ascent of the ice cap.

In contrast to the conditions of a snow house, which we
proposed to build, were the warm, well-lighted, and com-
fortable winter rock homes of the natives, which we all
visualized as the tired dogs picked up the trail leading
south.] A little after midnight we drove into the sleeping
village at the end of the fifty miles. The children, the
sentinels of every village, rushed for the doors of the igloos
to notify fathers and mothers that the white men were
coming — a big event.

One's arrival in a village is always attended by a feeling
of embarrassment. Invitations or requests to make one
of the igloos your home during your visit are never forth-
coming even from your best friends. You might stand be-
fore the houses for a week, a native would never invite you138

ETAH AND BEYOND

in. And there one stands looking foolish and undecided
as to just what to do. You are cordially welcomed and
wanted in every home, but you must decide which house,
which family you prefer, and thereby which to honor.
Soliciting for the honor is not considered good form among
these primitive people.

Ah'pel-lah, a very successful hunter in the tribe, and
therefore possessing a full pantry, always entertained all
visitors in the largest igloo I have ever seen. His wife,
Ah'tee-ta, was a noted beauty, for the hand of whom sev-
eral Eskimos had contended and one man was shot. I had
known them both for many years. In fact, they were a
part of my expedition of 1913-17. Naturally they ex-
pected to entertain an old friend and were both busy put-
ting a last touch of tidiness in their living quarters.

But I unexpectedly chose the small igloo of Metik
(eider duck), much to the consternation of Mrs. Eider
Duck, who, when I entered, sat on the edge of the bed
platform, red in the face and very much out of breath with
her exertions in kicking bones, scraps of meat, dog har-
nesses, and pups under the bed. No hosts could have been
kinder during our stay. Ahl'na-ghi'to, the wife, dried our
kamiks (boots), rubbed them soft with the bone-scraper
and stretched the soles with her pretty white teeth; then
padded them with dried grass. Each morning they were
standing within reach of our sleeping-bags ready for the
day. She repaired the rents in our skin clothing, using the
strong native thread from the back of the narwhal, one
thing for which the white man can never bring a substitute,
as it is far superior to manufactured thread. With us
they shared their walrus and seal and Arctic hare and with
them we shared our tea, coffee, sugar, milk, and biscuit.
Messengers were busy between the igloos notifying all as
to the exact minute when meals were served. The children
were faithful in their duties. Our igloo was always bulging
when Mrs. Metik poured the tea and I served the biscuit;ESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	139

while the man of the house carved the walrus joint repos-
ing amid the debris of the igloo floor. The meat always lies
there within reach of all to serve as a buffet lunch at any
and all hours of the day.

It is surprising how much raw meat in a frozen state one
can eat. A frozen walrus liver with tidbits of raw seal fat
as sauce is really a delicacy, and is ushered in through the
liole in the rock floor with as much pomp and ceremony as
the plump, brown roast chicken which comes from the
home kitchen.

Narwhal and white whale are in fact more palatable un-
cooked than cooked, the raw skin being especially prized.
A square foot makes a suitable portion for a man of
average appetite. The Eskimos' perfect teeth, set strongly
in square, heavily muscled, wide jaws, crunch this tough,
grizzly substance almost as easily as an American boy eats
a banana and certainly with as much pleasure.

Parts of animals, which the more refined taste of civili-
zation rejects as waste, are all used, even eyeballs and en-
trails. It is a weird sight to see an Eskimo child with three
eyes, two of her own, and one peering at you from between
parted lips. This is the lollypop of the Far North and is
generally the child's prerogative.

Meat is their sole diet and has been for at least a
thousand years. When they are starving, I have known
them to eat rockweed and kelp; and in the spring I have
seen the Eskimo children eating the root of the willow and
the blossoms of the purple saxifrage; but the amount is
insignificant and would not total more than a few ounces
cf vegetable food in a year. In view of our modern and
scientific ideas as to what constitutes a balanced ration,
such facts concerning a strong and vigorous race come with
a shock, but are nevertheless interesting.

In connection with the above I must state that the
Eskimos of the Smith Sound tribe are not long-lived, al-
though practically free from sickness while they do live.140

ETAH AND BEYOND

A girl married at fourteen and even twelve years ages
rapidly. A man at sixty has nearly run his race. A man at
seventy-five and eighty is almost unknown. The tea,
coffee, sugar, biscuit, and tobacco obtained at the trading
station, coupled with the inevitable diseases of our home
land will not, I fear, lengthen their days or add one whit of
happiness.

And here for the first time I was initiated into the mys-
teries of the bone game as played in the igloos during the
dark period. The 'bone' is the ulna of a bearded seal,
with ends so perforated that by swinging it upon a string
it is pierced by a sharp bone joint held in the hand. Some
of the holes are difficult of entrance and require consider-
able dexterity, which is accomplished only by long practice.
There are six different ways of piercing the bone and each
must be accomplished twenty times. Each tally signifies
a dog until one has a full team; henceforth each tally is a
stage of the journey from Etah to Cape York, two hundred
and fifty miles by sledge attended with many mishaps.
Surprising to relate, the object of the long journey is to
obtain a new set of teeth! I can readily believe that such a
prize is the most valuable possession of a meat-eating race.
The instant the successful contestant arrives at his desti-
nation, the others slide one hand quickly over the other,
signifying that they have all slipped from the ice foot into
the sea.

While at Nerky, one of my Eskimos, Kah-ko-tchee'a,
suggested that we drive up to his summer tenting place
near the glacier and uncover a big cache of dovekies or
little auks, made by him the preceding summer. To my
astonishment he ascended a hill at least a thousand feet
in height, higher than I ever knew these birds to nest.
To our disappointment every bird was gone, stolen by
foxes, a very common experience with a cache carelessly
built.

On Friday evening there was great excitement in theESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	141

little village. The new missionary-teacher could be seen
approaching over the ice from the south. He was recog-
nized by his dogs, as all men are in the North, at a distance.
Curiosity over the personality of the 'new minister' is as
rife in the North as in the South. All rushed to the ice
foot to greet him and his traveling companion, young
'Harrigan,' a recent convert.

Jens John F. Olsen is a native of Holstensberg, South
Greenland, of mixed Danish-Eskimo origin. He received
his education at the University at Godthaab and at Copen-
hagen, Denmark. I am heartily in sympathy with his
noble purpose to Christianize the Smith Sound native,
although fully realizing that they are one of the happiest
people in the world. But such a state of happiness cannot
be guaranteed in view of the annual visits of traders, ex-
plorers, and whalemen. The welfare of any savage race
to-day depends upon its knowledge of the practices, the
purposes, the evils, and the diseases of the outside world.
Ignorant of these, the result is extinction before the march
of civilization. If history teaches us anything, it is this.

I have known these people now for nineteen years; and
have studied their customs, their language, and their re-
ligion. The change noticeable to-day from certain evil
practices is due entirely to the efforts of teachers and
missionaries during the last nine years. Let the good work
go on!

Mr. Olsen was on his way to our winter quarters to bap-
tize one of the two babies born during the winter. I there-
fore decided not to await E-took'a-shoo, who had gone
south for dogs, but to accompany the two guests to the
ship. Reports had reached us that new ice had formed in
Sonntag Bay, and that we might possibly proceed along
the coast, thus avoiding the journey over the ice cap.
Beyond Cape Chalon open water compelled us to take to
the ice foot, as we feared. Rounding a rocky bluff we
came upon a typical Eskimo encampment, one which man142

ETAH AND BEYOND

might have seen five and ten thousand years ago. It was a
long step backwards to dwell for a day with primitive man.
In front of a hole in a snow bank sat three Eskimo boys
hacking at the frozen flipper of a walrus. For nourishment
they needed no fire; for shelter, nothing portable. There
was a snow bank at every turn. Nothing could be more
primitive than a hole in the snow and a piece of raw meat!

Buried in the ice foot to protect them from loose dogs
were the bodies of four walrus, which were cut out as
needed. The ice covering protected the meat also from
the depredations of foxes, the only animal enemy of the
native. In fact, as we stood chatting, two blue foxes were
seen running along the ice foot toward the camp. They
were coming to supper. The boys hastily grabbed their
rifles and crouched behind a boulder some fifty yards north.
Two shots rang out. One fox went leaping back along the
ice foot and the other ascended an almost vertical snow
slope with such rapidity that I could hardly believe my
eyes.

An Arctic hare and an Arctic fox must have some ex-
citing races among the big white hills of the North, typical
of the struggle for existence in the animal world where the
life of one is the death of the other.

A good cache of meat is always a potent factor in de-
ciding a camp. Dogs must be fed and cared for; they are
too valuable as an aid in traveling to be neglected; there-
fore, we should remain here for the night and fill them up
for their fifty-mile trip to the ship. Rather than burrow
into a snow bank we decided to build an igloo out of snow
blocks. Such a house is stronger and warmer and more re-
sistant to the heat from the sledge stoves, in that the snow
is selected and is of the same consistency throughout;
whereas a snow bank is generally compounded of strata
of varying degrees of hardness, depending upon the force
and the varying direction of the wind at the time of its
formation. The average-sized snow house, used on theESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP

143

trail in lieu of a tent, is about eight feet in diameter and
eight feet in height, constructed of about fifty snow blocks,
some two feet long, eighteen inches wide, and six to eight
inches thick. Contrary to the general belief and statements
in many books, it is not built wall on wall, but spirally,
ever winding higher from right to left, counter-clockwise,
each block supported and held in place by the block at its
right.

The Eskimo builds an arch with apparently no support!
It is truly marvelous how the blocks of the dome remain in
place until the last block or key locks the structure.

Common sense will teach us that a snow house can never
be really warm; that is, not for any length of time without
melting down. Rather than continue building new houses,
one is careful of the old. But if we are to occupy it for one
night only, heat it up, what do we care! Although melting,
it will not drip for some time. The big snow blocks are
huge blotters and absorb to the point of saturation, then
drip — drip — drip, wetting everything, the seal and car-
ibou skins spread flat on the snow bed, our sleeping-bags,
and the fur clothes which we are wearing. Later on when
lamps are out, we know that all will be frozen stiff. There
is one way, and that but temporary, to prevent this —
grasp a handful of snow and appTy it to the dripping spot —
it sticks, absorbs, and will continue to do so until super-
saturated, when — drip — drip again. If we are to remain
in a snow house for any length of time, as I have done for
a period of six weeks, we resort to the melt-prevention
method of lining it with a canvas tent, which, because of
the intervening air space, results in a very comfortable
little home.

When the rumor was spread abroad that we were boiling
eider ducks' eggs, the cavemen immediately abandoned
their 'dugout' and crowded into our new home. They had
not enjoyed eggs since the preceding summer. Fortunately
we still had enough to satisfy all.144

ETAH AND BEYOND

Our way north was still uncertain, as the dark ice of
Sonntag Bay indicated. One cold night, however, would
make it sufficiently thick for us to pass.

In the morning we again traveled by ice foot, encoun-
tering a dangerous slope on which Olsen and 'Harrigan'
might easily have lost their dogs and sledges. The minister
here proved to me that he was no tenderfoot. He managed
his dogs and sledge as skillfully as a native, and in a
manner which would command the respect of his parish-
ioners. Such a knowledge of the technique of dog-driving
should increase his influence tremendously in the tribe.
When the Man of God or any 'Kab-loo-nak' (white man)
can rough it with the best, his status is determined.

At the Sonntag Glacier we gingerly took the sea ice for
a short distance, finding it of sufficient strength to furnish
a bridge to Sulwuddy. From here it was a rapid run along
the ice foot to the Cape Alexander Glacier. At times this
confronts the traveler with an almost precipitous wall,
which is scaled only by resorting to ropes. Upon one
occasion, when our sledges were heavily loaded with walrus
meat, we were forced to use block and tackle.

A long gentle slope was our good fortune upon this
occasion. At the foot of the Crystal Palace Glacier we
stopped and made coffee, a popular South Greenland cus-
tom on the trail. The bread furnished by the missionary
and made by his Holstenborg Eskimo wife was delicious,
being novel both in taste and appearance.

I Cape Kendrick was fairly criss-crossed with hare tracks,
a temptation to delay for an hour or so and hunt. We
kept on, however, intending to drive right through to Re-
fuge Harbor. But Etah gave us its usual welcome, wind
and drift, which decided our course straight for the old
igloo in Foulke Fiord.

A face appeared over the ice foot in front of the door.
Old Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa was in camp on his way south
from the ship. He declared he had to leave Refuge HarborESKIMOS VISIT THE SHIP	145

to save his dogs! The boys on board the Bowdoin, eager
to learn the art of dog-driving, had borrowed his dogs each
day and invariably returned with broken whipstocks,
broken sledge, and tangled traces.

A fast run of four hours the next morning took us to the
ship. There were times on our trip when we suspected that
it was fairly cold. Upon our arrival, much to our surprise,
we learned that the temperature had been forty degrees
below zero during our absence. To be comfortable it is
sometimes best not to have a thermometer.

The next day seven men, women, and children arrived
from Nerky. They had followed rapidly behind us to wit-
ness the baptism of the baby, a novel and mystic form of
entertainment. To us it was fully as interesting, the
ceremony taking place in the little forecastle of the Bow-
doin. It was difficult to associate the clergyman in white
cassock and ruff, washed and shaved face, combed and
parted hair, with my fur-clad, shouting and working driver
of the trail. The Eskimos sat as if paralyzed and remained
so for some time. Some of these Eskimos had been bap-
tized, others wanted to be, and others wondered what it
was all about, but all were busy with their thoughts, ex-
cept the most Northern little boy in the world, born in the
middle of the big night within twelve degrees of the Pole.CHAPTER X

SOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE

April 6th, the anniversary of the discovery of the North
Pole, which marked the culmination of a three-hundred-
year struggle by England, Norway, Sweden, Austria,
Italy, and America! Surely Peary should have a niche in
the Hall of Fame after his gallant work of eighteen years.
I know of no more inspiring page in history for Youth than
that on which we read of the determination and singleness
of purpose of this American who looked out over a chaotic
mass of sea ice where others had failed and said, 'I can/

Worn to the bone by starvation, crippled and maimed
by amputation, baffled and blocked by unforeseen con-
tingencies, his dogs and Eskimos dying, his staunch ship a
wreck, he held his course northward, and won! His own
words were uttered with all sincerity: 'The true explorer
does his work not with any hopes of reward or honor, but
because the thing which he has set himself to do is a part
of his being and must be done for the sake of its accom-
plishment/

We raised the flag on the Bowdoin in his honor, and it
snapped at our truck as if signaling to the phantom
Roosevelt steaming by on her way northward.

On April 17th we were away again for the Eskimo
village of Nerky to get a series of motion pictures of
Eskimo life at one of their villages. E-took'a-shoo, Kah-
ko-tchee'a and I, each driving a sledge, were accompanied
by Kood-look'to, Ahl'na-doo'a and baby, and Nup'sa,
a half-breed lad of eighteen, all visitors at our ship and
now headed toward home.

Arriving at the igloo at Etah I deplored the fact that we
i had no meat for our dogs. To my astonishment the Eski-AN IG-LOO, OR WINTER HOME, IN NORTH GREENLAND

A TYPICAL SOUTH GREENLAND ESKIMO HOUSE
Wood within, sod withoutTHE MOST NORTHERN FAMILY IN THE WORLD, ETAH

LUNCHEON ON BOARD THE BOWDOINSOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 147

mos proceeded to chop it out of the floor! What I thought
to be frozen mounds of dirt proved to be walrus meat in
cache within reach of the bed! The floor serves as the ice
chest, an economy of space!

On Friday, April 18th, we started in high hopes of a
journey right through to Nerky, distant fifty miles. We
fairly swept down the coast and over the Crystal Palace
and Cape Alexander Glaciers. I use the word ' swept'
advisedly, for I certainly 'brushed the surface' the latter
part of my journey. The Cape Alexander Glacier was as
hard as flint; it usually is because of terrific winds. In
attempting a descent here, the Eskimos generally check
their sledges by a loop of sealskin line beneath the runners,
which acts as a drag. I had no line, and was foolishly con-
fident that I could reach the bottom in safety by control-
ling the sledge with the upstanders, not realizing that as
yet I was not thoroughly acquainted with my new team
of dogs.

All went well until within a hundred yards of the finish
on the ice foot, when feeling now that nothing could hap-
pen, I jumped upon the sledge. The dogs were off with
long leaps for the bottom. Kah-ko-tchee'a, who was
standing on the ice foot, sensed what would happen. He
seized his whip and jumped out into the trail in front of
the dogs to stop them if possible in their mad race. When
he realized at what speed we were coming down upon him,
he ran from the road. The dogs turned slightly to the left
almost at the very bottom, which was enough to swing
the sledge upon the glassy surface as one would swing a
cat by the tail. I might have gone completely around the
circle, had not a projecting knob of ice interfered. The
Eskimos disagreed as to how many times the sledge rolled
over, but, possibly to belittle my work as a dog-driver,
declared that I turned four somersaults! I distinctly re-
member doing so twice, each time suffering a resounding
whack on the back of my head. ,148

ETAH AND BEYOND

The sledge was a wreck; one side was split in several
places. A white man would have despaired of ever repair-
ing it. When the Eskimos were assured that I had suffered
no injury, they held a kind of post mortem around the
sledge. Yes, they could repair it all right! And imme-
diately they set to work to prove their word.

The Smith Sound native always repairs by lashing, at
which practice he is most ingenious and very skillful. To
lash, holes must be bored. We had no drill. A white man
would have worried one through the inch and a quarter
oak with the point of a knife, consuming possibly an hour
on each of the dozen or more holes. The Eskimos shot
them through with their rifles! To make a successful re-
pair, a clamp must be applied to draw the wood tightly
together. To accomplish this they made a twister out of
their walrus line, using a hatchet handle.

While the men were busily engaged in doing this, Ahl'-
na-doo'a was making coffee and serving biscuit, thus
helping the time to pass quickly. We were soon on the
road again and our dogs galloping rapidly along the ice
foot.

When rounding a point within a few miles of Sulwuddy,
we met Ark'li-o, wife and little girl, returning north! They
had left the ship for home a week before. Blocked by open
water! Impossible to get south! We were in a quandary
what to do. Only one thing — go back and go over the
ice cap, difficult as it was. Arriving at the base of the
glacier, we were confronted by a strong wind and drift
and decided to go into camp to await better weather. For
the first time during the year we pitched the tent; a little
early, perhaps; but the temptation to hasten the season
could not be resisted.

On the 19th, the weather seemed favorable enough for
us to attempt the glacier, but snow and wind increased
with altitude and with distance until finally we were in a
perfect smother of drift. I thought it imperative to camp.SOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 149

I wondered how in the world ten of us could all get into my
small tent. Building-snow was not available. The natives
were reluctant to go on, fearing a snow-covered crevasse,
and being also uncertain of the direction. I suggested that
we follow our back trail to Cape Alexander, and from
there, if weather permitted, reach a big cache of meat at
the Crystal Palace Cliffs. This we decided to do, but when
we arrived on the back of the glacier, the storm was so bad
that the natives thought it advisable to return to the igloo
for shelter. Tent life was over for a time. We hastily set
to work cutting snow blocks for another igloo, as one
would have been too crowded.

The next day, the 20th, was a continuation of Saturday,
with snow and wind from the southward. Although we
as yet had plenty of food for ourselves, our dogs were
without any. E-took'a-shoo and Kood-look'to determined
to drive up over the glacier and back to the Crystal
Palace Cliffs for walrus meat; Kah-ko-tchee'a, Ark'li-o,
and Nup'sa would drive south to pick up a small cache
there.

At 2 a.m. Monday, Kah-ko-tchee'a returned with a
hare, which we promptly ate. At 3 a.m. Nup'sa and Ark'-
li-o arrived with a few remnants of walrus meat. At 7
a.m. E-took'a-shoo and Kood-look'to drove down the
glacier with one small piece of meat only, reporting the
snow to be actually over their sledges north of Cape
Alexander. The prospect for a prolonged stay at this spot
was not pleasing; bad north, bad south, and worse over
the top. Time to cheer up! I invited them all to tea in my
tent, which we had again pitched, fearing a collapse of the
walls of the snow house. Besides, I wanted to test the
capacity of the seven by seven tent, not knowing when we
might be called upon to use it. After the ten were all in
and uncomfortably seated, a picture of the outside would
have been of interest. One could never have guessed what
it covered or what shape the tent was supposed to be. The150

ETAH AND BEYOND

profiles at different angles were almost alarming, but cer-
tainly very interesting.

About noon the wind increased. With so much snow on
the ice cap we knew what to expect — a blinding drift, and
possibly a wearing away of the snow house inhabited by
the women and children. We decided to move at once to a
rock cave one mile south. Everything was thrown onto
the sledges in a haphazard manner, and away we went
before the wind for a better shelter.

The cave was readily found and its entrance walled up
with snow blocks. With the long black-haired, fur-clad
Eskimos sitting in the semi-darkness beneath the shelving
rock roof chanting their primitive music, possibly the
oldest in the world to-day, it needed but a slight touch of
the imagination to place one far back in the early history
of what is now called man.

In the evening the men suddenly decided that they
wanted some hare meat. Doubling up, two men on a
sledge, they drove away to the southern slope of Cape
Alexander where no Eskimo had hunted for a long time.
They returned at 4 a.m. with ten hares. The pot boiled
long and hard that morning and again at noon. My Es-
kimos were filled up. 4 Why worry about the dogs? They
are tough and can go ten days and longer if necessary/
declared Nup'sa.

A heavy fog all day Thursday was not encouraging.
The dogs howled and fought all night. Several had bitten
off their traces and were running loose picking up stray
bits of line and skin about the camp. It was clearly evident
that we must return north at once or make an attempt to
get over the ice cap south. Above our heads it was as thick
as a dungeon. Could we find our way over? To our as-
tonishment we drove up through the low-lying fog bank
into the bright sunshine, out of the deep snow and onto a
hard sledging surface. The Arctic is as full of pleasant
surprises as it is of disappointments.SOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 151

At ten o'clock the next morning we drove into Nerky
following a glorious ride down the Clements Markham
Glacier. Rather than sleep in the congested rock igloos I
pitched my tent in the village — bachelor quarters. But
before night it snowed so heavily and drifted so badly that
I was glad to sleep with the Eskimos in spite of the pos-
sibility — and probability — of getting body lice.

Saturday was a miserable day; a wet snow fell con-
tinuously. Three more sledges arrived from the south
during the night, adding to the number of persons in bed
and to our total of howling dogs, of which there were now
one hundred and twenty in all, not counting about twenty
pups sleeping in the igloo entrance and fighting about the
door. But sledging so wearies the body and is so conducive
to sound sleep that they might have fought under or even
on our beds and yet not have disturbed us.

When fourteen hours had passed and three of our travel-
ing companions, Ark'li-o, his wife, and his little girl, had
not arrived, I was worried. Upon reaching sea ice the day
before, I had looked back and could see the black dot
descending the glacier some two miles away and knew
that they were all right at that time. Yet there were
many crevasses and wide cracks that might cause trouble.
E-took'a-shoo, brother of the woman, laughed at my fears
and declared that the three were all right and would soon
arrive. To my relief they were at the door the next morn-
ing, all smiling and looking thoroughly rested. To my
inquiry, "Where in the world have you been?' they replied,
'Sleeping on our sledge at the foot of the glacier/ Tired
with the long walk they decided that it was time to go to
bed, and to bed they went, simply lying down on their
sledge under a caribou skin! Shortly after this it began to
snow and continued to do so all night, and all the next day,
but they slept on like tired children, heedless of their white
and ever-thickening covering. What a picture of Northern
life!152

ETAH AND BEYOND

Would it ever stop snowing! All day Sunday it con-
tinued until it was more than two feet deep all over the
village, burying sledges and dogs. With very little meat on
hand, the Eskimos wondered what to do and where to go
to get any. A family of twenty-seven people and a hundred
and twenty dogs requires considerable food.

That the Eskimos held a Sunday service was of extreme
interest to me. That nearly all washed their hands and
faces was even of more interest. Once a week is quite an
improvement over not at all. Kah-ko-tchee'a, clad in a
clean white jumper, read the Eskimo Bible to a very at-
tentive audience. The gods of the hills and the sea, and
their great evil spirit, Tornasuk, are being put back in
their place among the Dark Ages. They were all the better
for their simple service.

Tuesday gave promise of better weather. The storm
had abated. The wind veered to the north. Blue patches
broke through the heavy clouds. By night the wind blew
with such violence that I feared my tent would go into the
air in spite of its six guy-lines. With kamiks (sealskin
boots) and mittens within reach, I slid deep into my soft
warm caribou sleeping-bag and dozed off to sleep listening
to the roar of wind and pelting drift. No one who has not
experienced it can possibly imagine the downright comfort
of such a situation. The thin tent is jumping and slatting
and tugging like a thing alive; dry pellets of snow are beat-
ing against the fabric like hail against a window pane; the
wind is now howling, humming, wailing through the guy-
ropes. Outside, a smother of drift, a face-cutting wind;
inside, protected, warm, a bit sleepy, a very comfortable
you.

In the morning I was awakened with a 'Now! I-o!' — a
woman's voice. She stood in my tent in snow a foot deep
and had come to shovel me out with the shoulder blade of
a whale. I hardly knew whether to be grateful or ashamed
at receiving such a service, a novel experience to beSOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 153

shoveled out of bed by a woman! Before I had time to
crawl out and dress, she brought me a pot of hot coffee!
Great Scott, coffee in bed in the morning! I confess, re-
luctantly, that the coffee came every morning during my
stay and was always accepted with pleasure.

At last clear weather arrived and with it four sledges
from the North. The drivers on their way north had en-
countered the same open water which blocked our journey
south. They had returned, and in ascending the glacier
had detected our sledge tracks leading south. My sledge
tracks, narrower than those of the Eskimos, were re-
cognized. Knowing that if they traveled north with us they
would be served tea, coffee, and biscuit, they turned back
at once and followed our trail to Nerky.

May 1st, 'May Day' as we knew it in old Provincetown,
was one of the best. The Eskimos took advantage of the
good weather, and all with sledge and dogs drove away to
the edge of the sea ice for seals. Kah-ko-tchee'a returned
in a short time with two big fat ones on his sledge. He was
followed by E-took'a-shoo, who had one. All others re-
turned empty-handed. I wondered if this was because my
men had new rifles; although I realized that in selecting
them as our assistants we were employing two of the best
men in the tribe.

When the dogs smelled fresh seal's blood there was great
excitement in camp, a veritable pandemonium with all
yelping and tugging at their traces. Two of the teams
broke their fastenings and rushed pell-mell upon the men
cutting up the meat. The women and children seized
sticks, stones, pieces of boards, anything at hand, and
drove them back to their hitching-straps. Feeding means
fighting in every team. For when the dogs see their
master coming with a boxful of meat, the stronger grab
the weaker in their mouths and try their best to do as much
damage as possible before the food arrives. And when the
meat is thrown among the dogs there is one grand mix-up.154

ETAH AND BEYOND

The last act generally ends with the Eskimo violently
throwing the food box at some particularly pugnacious
animal and walking away muttering to himself.

The tenderer parts of the seals, the filets, were reserved
for a banquet in the open. The men had finished their
labors and rested on the sledges smoking their pipes. The
women kindled fires with bits of wood and seal fat in front
of their igloos and filled their cooking-pots to the cover with
hearts, livers, tenderloin, and ribs. They were still eating
when I closed the doors of my tent for the night.

Friday was such a perfect day that we concluded to start
for home in the afternoon, thus taking advantage of the
night freezing for traveling. I had been gradually adding
to my team by purchasing dogs from the Eskimos. As I
gathered up the traces of the fifteen, strange to me and to
each other, I anticipated some exciting moments before
reaching the ship, sixty-five miles north. My troubles
began at the very start. One fine looking dog, which I had
obtained from Kood-look'to, knew that he was going in
the wrong direction and turned back toward home, per-
sisting in doing so repeatedly for several hours and exert-
ing his strength in vain against the other fourteen. Not
until he had been ignominiously dragged for hundreds of
yards did he realize that his comfortable position was with
his team mates.

At Cape Saumarez a white dog snapped his trace and
bolted back along the trail. I jumped to the top of my
sledge, waved both arms, and yelled to Poo'ad-loo'na in
the rear to catch him. I knew what would happen; it al-
ways does. Any stray dog, one without friends, is at-
tacked by every team. While the fight was in progress the
Eskimo might capture him. Within a few minutes he ar-
rived with the dog tied to the end of his whip.

The glacier and the ice cap as well were in perfect con-
dition for sledging, smoothed and hardened by the terrific
wind of four days before. Up and over we went at a rapidSOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 155

pace, and glided merrily down the northern side to be con-
fronted by an 'Open Polar Sea!' Water everywhere as
far as the eye could reach. The Eskimos deliberated for
some time as to just what to do, for only at certain places
can one descend from the ice cap safely. We decided upon
a narrow ravine leading down into a bay north of Cape
Kendrick. Just where it was no one seemed to know. I
had been up the pass once only and then in the night.
Two of the five Eskimos had been down years ago.

We crossed and criss-crossed, plunged and climbed,
drove into several culs-de-sac, crossed bare ground studded
with jagged rocks until I was all out of patience with
Eskimos who could not find their way in their own home.
Finally when Kah-ko-tchee'a did discover the way lead-
ing to the river-bed, I forgave them all; it was up a hill!
To go up when we were going down was a new experience!

Of all the descents in my thousands of miles of sledging
I have never encountered anything like that ravine. There
was hardly a cubic foot of snow in it. Ice and boulders
from top to bottom! Even the Eskimos bitterly complained
and marveled at its condition. There was one drop of
fifteen feet of solid ice, a frozen waterfall. Ropes were
used here. A sledge alone with no dogs to control might
have resulted in a fairly satisfactory trip, but, with fifteen
dogs pulling like mad and ambitious to break all records
and everything attached to them, the descent was a night-
mare. We sat upon our sledges on the sea ice, red in the
face, covered with sweat, and out of breath, and felt as if
we had descended from an upper Inferno. The Eskimos
will avoid that pass for years to come!

Enough for one day. We went into camp a mile beyond
at five in the morning. The tent pitched, we cheered up a
bit. With the glasses the boys counted ten Arctic hares
feeding on the hills northeast. Within a few hours they
were back with eleven, food for ourselves and skins for
stockings.156

ETAH AND BEYOND

Since there was no dog food at the ship, we planned to
load up our sledges from a cache at Cape Kendrick; there-
fore we could not get away until Sunday morning, May
4th. The promise of a fast run to Refuge Harbor, indicated
by the condition of the sea ice, was not fulfilled. Once
across the mouth of Etah Harbor, we were compelled to
follow the ice foot clear to Polaris Beach north of Littleton
Island.

As we crossed Sewall Harbor I could see two black dots
on the ptarmigan grounds north, and knew that Goddard
and Bromfield were on their regular Sunday hunt for birds.
They hurried down to the ice foot to meet us and were
plainly relieved from considerable anxiety over our long
absence. We were now overdue a week; and knowing that
we had planned to go out on the sea ice off Peteravik
for walrus, they had imagined us drifting south with the
pack.

A short run brought us to the Bowdoin, where all rushed
out to meet us. As I was the first to arrive, I told the two
Eskimo women in jest that their husbands had gone to
Umanak and would not be back for a week or so. News of
their death could not have affected them more deeply.
They dropped their heads and walked slowly toward the
shore. I called to them and endeavored to correct my
serious mistake; unmoved, they walked on with bowed
heads. I mention this in refutation of the statement made
by certain writers that there is really no love between
Eskimo man and wife. A happy reunion followed a half-
hour later when E-took'a-shoo and Kah-ko-tchee'a drove
into the harbor.

The most important bit of news to greet me upon my
arrival was that the Bowdoin was leaking badly. It seemed
to be the main topic of conversation. A few of the boys
questioned a safe arrival home. One quietly suggested
that it might be well not to carry too much sail on the
homeward passage considering the fact that the BowdoinSOUTH TO THE ESKIMO VILLAGE 157

had been terribly strained by being frozen in the ice during
the last winter!

Leakage in the spring always alarms a captain on his
first trip to the Arctic. He learns later with much relief
that most of it comes from the inside of his ship and results
from the melting of the winter's condensation next to the
outside skin. The 'leak' didn't worry me at all. As to
strain in a quiet harbor, there was hardly enough to rub
her paint. In the history of Arctic exploration, no ship has
ever been crushed in harbor, for the simple reason that
there is absolutely no pressure. The ship is embedded in a
sheet of ice, about seven feet in thickness, which gently
rises and falls with the tide.CHAPTER XI

THE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE

It was now getting so late in the season that I planned to
sledge the tablet to Cape Sabine at once and put it in place.
On May 6th, we left the ship at noon with a party of nine
men and six sledges, consisting of Robinson, Goddard,
Jaynes, E-took'a-shoo, Kah-ko-tchee'a, Koo-e-tig'e-to,
Poo'ad-loo'na, Noo'ka-ping'wa, and myself. Goddard was
to do magnetic work at Camp Clay. Jaynes, my engineer,
a skillful mechanic, was to superintend the placing of the
tablet, which was to be fastened to the face of the boulder
with expansion bolts and heads covered with ornamental
brass caps or knobs.

For the first four or five miles the going was wretched,
but it improved as we neared the center of the Sound. Here
we ran into a thick snowstorm and were somewhat puzzled
as to the most direct route to Cape Sabine. We had no
compass, but could now and then discern a faint sun, the
bearing of which, checked up by a watch, indicated roughly
our course northwest. With very little food on our sledges
for seven men, we could not face the possibility of a two or
three days' storm camped in the middle of Smith Sound;
therefore we continued on for twelve hours and were for-
tunate in making a landfall just north of Brevoort Island,
the very spot for which we were headed.

The air was filled with snow, and visibility was so poor
when we reached the vicinity of Greely's camp that I
decided to camp amid the rough ice bordering the shore
and in the morning select the most practicable way to the
land. With the bronze tablet within a few hundred yards
of the end of its three-thousand-mile journey, I was reluc-
tant to take any chances whereby it might be injured. ITHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 159

had carried it on my own sledge and had been extremely
careful to avoid every obstruction.

The next day was a wonder, bright sunlight with very
little wind, ideal for our work as planned. Within an hour
or so following breakfast we were standing by the rock
walls of the camp. Jaynes agreed with me that the boulder
at the south end of Cross Lake would make an ideal mount,
and thither we sledged the tablet. This boulder is distant
from the house one hundred and seventy-five yards and
is between Cross Lake and Cemetery Ridge.

Robinson and Jaynes began work at once drilling holes
for the bolts. Goddard pitched his magnetic tent on
Cemetery Ridge and began a series of observations. Our
Eskimos drove out into Buchanan Bay for seals for our
dogs, but soon returned reporting a very strong wind at
the end of the Cape.

On Thursday morning the tablet was in place and the
work done. One object of our expedition had been accom-
plished. We draped the tablet and face of the boulder with
a large American flag and took a series of photographs of
both Eskimos and my own party standing beside it. The
men who died there had not been forgotten. There the
tablet stands and all who go there may read:

To the Memory of the Dead Who Under Lieutenant
A. W. Greely Here Gave their Lives To Insure The
Final and Complete Success of the First Scientific Co-
operation of the United States with other Nations,
1881-1884.

Erected by the National Geographic Society, 1923.

Following Goddard's noon meridian observation for
latitude, we started back for the ship by way of Brevoort
Island, since I wished my men to visit the Nares cairn of
1876 and Payer Harbor where Peary spent the winters of
1900-02. It was from this cairn on the summit of Brevoort
Island that Commander W. S. Schley, U.S.N., first ob-
tained tidings of Greely and his men. Brevoort shares the1G0

ETAH AND BEYOND

distinction with Stalknecht, a low-lying island guarding
the southern side of Payer Harbor. From the summit of
this island Ensign Harlow was seen signaling, 'Have found
Greely's records; send five men.' What excitement in the
ward-room of the Thetis as Schley and his officers gathered
about the records! And what a feeling of thankfulness over
the last statement.

My party is now permanently encamped on the west side of a
small neck of land which connects the wreck cache cove or bay
and the one to its west. Distant about equally from Cape
Sabine and Cocked Hat Island. All well.

A. W. Greely

But what despair when they noticed the date, * Sunday,
October 21, 1883!' Eight months had passed since the
writing of the record, and at that time only forty days'
food remained. The conclusion was inevitable that all
must have perished.

Had one Etah Eskimo appeared in camp that spring, all
remaining would have been saved. Had Greely and his
men crossed to Littleton Island in the fall, I believe they
would have been well cared for by the Smith Sound
Eskimo. Had our Government granted permission to
Chief Engineer Melville to proceed north in the fall of
1883 in his attempt to rescue these deserted men, I believe
he would have succeeded. Had the memorandum or
Enclosure 4' of Lieutenant Louis V. Caziarc been a part
of Garlington's orders in 1883, all would have ended dif-
ferently. It is a simple thing, however, following such a
disaster, to say what might have been done; and it is not
my purpose to criticize Greely, Lieutenant Garlington,
Captain Pike and his crew, or the United States Govern-
ment.

The pressure ridges at Cape Sabine, and especially in
the vicinity of Brevoort Island, were of the greatest in-
terest to me as showing the tremendous power exerted byBRONZE TABLET ERECTED BY THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC
SOCIETY IN MEMORY OF THE GREELY PARTYAH-WEE-AH
A full-blooded Eskimo girl of the Smith Sound tribe

AH-MOW-NEDDY
A North Greenland girlTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 161

the ice fields being squeezed out of Kane Basin by the
Arctic current issuing from the Polar Sea via Kennedy and
Robeson Channels. One can, therefore, understand how
the Proteus and Polaris were crushed, why the Alert and
Discovery were squeezed, and the Roosevelt came south a
wreck. Just how the old schooner Advance, without
power, ever succeeded in reaching Rensselaer Harbor is a
mystery. Some of my men declared that Kane and his men
dragged her along the ice foot. Kane's wonderful narrative
can be easily criticized, but his courage and persistency in
the face of difficulties stand.

Our trip back across the Sound was accomplished with-
out incident. The tablet in place, I was now free to plan for
my trip across Ellesmere Land into the land of the white
wolf and musk-ox for a series of motion pictures.

I had added another Eskimo permanently to my party,
Koo-e-tig'e-to, son of Oo'tah, famous assistant of Peary.
I had known him since he was too young even to remember
me; in fact, I had pulled him out of the water when he was
wearing, for the first time, his first pair of civilized pants
which we had made for him on the Roosevelt. Strutting
on the ice as proud as the proverbial peacock, he walked
into a hole. His lusty crying proclaimed the fact that his
new feathers were spoiled.

He was now still unmarried, had a good team of dogs,
and wanted to remain with us; therefore I decided to take
him with me across the Sound. With all Eskimos gone,
quite a task devolved upon Bromfield, our best hunter,
to supply the ship and the Eskimo women with meat.
About this time a young couple appeared, Ki-wee'a and
Ah-mow-neddy. The boy was the brother of Ah-tung-u'nah,
one of our women, and the girl was a cousin of Koo-e-tig'-
e-to. As relatives all work happily together and for each
other, this was an ideal couple to leave behind at Refuge
Harbor, the husband as a hunting companion to Bromfield
and the wife to help in sewing and cleaning skins.102

ETAH AND BEYOND

I had delayed my trip west until the month of May,
the sealing month, when seals cut through their winter
breathing-holes with their sharp claws and emerge into the
bright sunshine for a sun bath. On certain days the sur-
face of the ice is dotted with their dark bodies, on their
sides, on their backs, on their bellies, fairly reveling in the
genial warmth of the spring. They have three enemies
when out of the water, the white wolf, the white bear, and
man. The two former are concealed in stalking by their
resemblance to their environment; the latter employs a
white screen formerly fashioned from a frost-dried seal-
skin; now, since the advent of white man, from cotton
cloth. This screen, roughly two feet by three in size, is
stretched tightly by the aid of two sticks in an almost
vertical position from the nose of a small wooden sledge
upon which is lashed the hunter's rifle with muzzle pro-
jecting slightly through a hole in the center of the screen.
On hands and knees behind this as a cover, the Eskimo
creeps stealthily toward his game. Ten and even more a
day are often secured in this manner while seals are bask-
ing.

On May 12th, the Eskimos came in with seven, a suffi-
cient number, I thought, to guarantee us plenty of food for
our dogs while on the Ellesmere Land trip. In other words,
seals were 'up,' and we could now live upon the country
and go as far as we pleased.

On the 13th we were away, E-took'a-shoo, Kah-ko-
tchee'a, Koo-e-tig'e-to, and I, on a four-hundred-mile
trip. It was good to be on the trail again during the long
bright days of May when the sun circled continuously about
our heads, no darkness with which to contend, no biting
winds, no blinding cold drift, no frost-bitten hands and feet.
But there were other things which we did not contemplate.

Ten hours' travel found us again across Smith Sound
and snugly in camp on the sea ice one mile from the Greely
camp. One seal only was seen in crossing; therefore ourTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 163

dogs went to bed supperless. Wednesday, the 14th, was a
hard day due to the deep snow of Buchanan Bay, across
which our course lay to reach Bache Peninsula. As I was
the only one who had snowshoes, I broke trail most of the
way, walking ahead of my dogs. It is one of the anomalies
of the Eskimos' travel that they do not appreciate the
snowshoe! If supplied with a pair they generally leave
them on the trail or lose them. My only explanation is
that they travel only when sledging is good, since they are
never in a hurry. If an unexpected amount of snow is en-
countered on the trail, they stick close to their sledges and
use the whip unmercifully.

All three of the Eskimos tried to stalk seals, but they
were unsuccessful. With heads up these wary animals were
on their guard against anything suspicious-looking. Our
dogs were getting hungry. Evidently the whole of Buch-
anan Bay was under a uniform depth of snow. Therefore,
when we broke camp on Thursday morning, E-took'a-shoo
suggested that we try the tidal crack of the Bache Peninsula.
This is the break between the sea ice and the ice foot, or
fast ice attached to the land. Upon the full and new moons
the tide generally wells up through this crack and over-
flows the sea ice for a short distance. Deep snows absorb
this water as a blotter takes up ink; the result in cold
weather is a hard sledging surface following the sinuosities
of the coast line. This serpentine track increases one's
distance by miles, but results at the end of the day justify
taking it.

E-took'a-shoo was right. We bowled merrily along
westward toward the Weyprecht Islands. Just inside of
Flagler Bay the boys killed two seals. Knowing that if we
fed the dogs there and then, we could get no more work out
of them during the day, we lashed the seals upon the
sledges and carried them to our camp well up the Bay.
Three hard-working days without food is a common ex-
perience for an Eskimo dog.164

ETAH AND BEYOND

Others had selected this very spot for a camp, as was
shown by the debris scattered among the rocks. Not recog-
nized as my own or Ekblaw's of the 1915 and 1916 trips, I
knew it to be from the Sverdrup Norwegian expedition of
1908-09 which had wintered in Rice Strait.

The contour and height of the hills and the change in
direction produce some remarkable and most surprising
as well as disheartening changes in the sledging surface.
One can slide from an icy surface almost into a snow bank.
The character of the ice in Flagler Bay the day before led
us to believe that our good fortune was to continue clear
to the head of the fiord and up the river valley. "Not so/
said old Torngak of the North. 4 You are having too good a
time!' And into it we plunged for the rest of the day,
slump, slump, slump. The dogs were filled with seal fat fed
to them the night before. It was too rich for their stom-
achs. Most of them lost their last night's meal during the
day. Our trail was well marked up the fiord — an incentive
on the return trip. We killed one seal during the day, which
supplied us with a bit of meat for the valley trip. We
camped in the river-bed, one mile from the sea ice.

Here Sverdrup found no snow at all. He was compelled
to abandon his sledges and proceed on foot. We were for-
tunate in finding good going all the way and were over the
top and down the other side in record time. When at the
height of land, we questioned whether to turn left and go
up over the ice cap, thence down into the head of Bay
Fiord, or continue on down through the valley into a bay
leading to Bay Fiord. The latter way was a new route for
me; therefore I wished to compare the merits of the two.
We concluded to continue straight on. All went well up to
six o'clock in the evening, when suddenly we encountered
a straight drop of twenty feet in the river-bed leading into
a real gorge filled with impassable drifts. We reconnoi-
tered right and left for a possible way out of the difficulty.
Bare ground as far as we could see! We pitched our tentTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 165

to think it over and to make a more thorough examination
of the whole valley.

After supper we started out in different directions, each
to return and make his report. Not a snow-covered route
was found in any direction. Was it best to go back and
try the glacier route or sledge over bare ground? We de-
cided to go on. In the morning we started over the grit and
gravel and stones and even rock. How I hated the sound of
the cutting of our steel runners which we had polished
so carefully and so laboriously before leaving the ship!
Smooth runners are the equal of two good dogs.

We pushed and yelled ourselves across country until we
at last reached the main river-bed, which eventually
opened out into a lake a mile long. This we learned later
was of recent formation, due to the damming of the whole
valley by a large glacier, which has advanced since 1910.
Even at the present time the back water is of sufficient
depth to float one small iceberg. This body of water will
gradually deepen with the years and stretch ever back un-
til it reaches the height of land; then go tumbling down the
eastern side of Ellesmere Land into the headwaters of
Flagler Bay instead of down the western side into Bay
Fiord.

Thus Nature, using the moisture in the air, a comming-
ling and solidifying of the infinitesimal drops, builds a dam,
where man would have used millions of bags of concrete
and expended millions of dollars. The dam needed no in-
spector to watch its growth step by step. The work is well
done and is accepted. This glacier, which is doing its work
so efficiently and which will eventually change the char-
acter of this section of the country, I have named after Dr.
Chester Reed, Associate Curator of Geology of the Amer-
ican Museum of Natural History.

Although the place was of great interest, for we had en-
tered one of Nature's great workshops, its attitude toward
us was a bit hostile. Would it permit us to pass? Must we166

ETAH AND BEYOND

return after all? We left our dogs and walked on for a closer
examination, entering the narrow pass between the face
of the glacier and the rocky hillside. We found it filled
with a chaotic mass of ice blocks, ranging in size from that
of one's head to that of a small house, which had been
detached through motion and expansion and contraction
from the face of the glacier. Passing could be accom-
plished; it simply meant work and patience.

We returned for our dogs and began work with our
small sledge hatchets, battering all obstructions into
pieces and filling up dangerous holes. At the western end
ropes were utilized in lowering our sledges into the river-
bed and the work was done. I looked back at it as we drove
away, saying to myself, 'Old boy, we'll never see you
again. You may do your worst!' — for we had decided to
return by way of the ice cap. It seriously considered tak-
ing me at my word two weeks later.

We now entered upon an alluvial plain which was a per-
fect maze of river channels called by geologists a braided
stream. A wrong decision as to the main river often found
us at the end of a snow-covered patch and facing a long
stretch of bare ground. But our experience of the day be-
fore had left us not oversensitive to the condition of our
runners; therefore, indifferent to further damage, we struck
boldly across gravel patches and river-banks determined
to reach sea ice. I missed the masts on the Bowdoin and
the ice barrel. If I could only have gone aloft and in-
creased my range of vision, our course would have been so
much more direct!

With a feeling of relief we rounded the last point and
bounded down over the ice foot to the sea ice, so clear and
smooth that it almost resembled pond ice in texture. But
with each leap of the dogs the wind seemed to increase in
violence.

The site for a camp is always selected with reference
to its water supply, either water or ice. Snow is to beTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 167

avoided, since it is so slow in melting that pots are in-
variably burned by the Primus stoves if not carefully
watched. Then, again, to convert snow into water re-
quires at least one half again as much oil, a serious waste
of fuel on a long trip.

At our right were three gulches either one of which might
contain fresh-water ice. We swung the dogs broadside to
the wind and headed for the land. A boat without keel or
center board is a poor thing closehauled and even on a
reach, since it slides off bodily to leeward. Away we went,
dogs, sledges, and the whole outfit. I have never felt like
anchoring before when dog-driving! At times, when at the
mercy of a heavy squall, I had seriously questioned our
ability to make the land. The dogs were repeatedly
stopped dead as we headed more into the wind. A snow
patch now and then seemed like a haven of refuge. It was
good fun, however, speculating as to whether or not we
should reach the next!

Reaching the land, three of us were considerably amused
at the antics of E-took'a-shoo trying to head up for our
prospective camp. He was nearly blown out of the bay.
I could imagine him with his practical mind criticizing us
for beating to windward when it was so much easier to
rattle off before the wind to leeward, which was really our
course to the musk-ox grounds. He reached us, puffing,
with a 'Now! I-o!' — a favorite Eskimo expression, and
a smile. Down in the bottom of the gulch we pitched the
tent within a few feet of good brook ice. The wind roared
over our heads and at times whirled about the tent, but
we were secure, and plainly tired with the long day. A
meal of tea, biscuit, and canned beans, and we were away
to the land of dreams.

Monday we crossed the fiord to the south side where we
had obtained musk-oxen in 1914 and 1916. Seal holes and
bear tracks spurred the dogs on at a fast clip over excellent
ice. Shortly after making camp, Kah-ko-tchee'a brought168

ETAH AND BEYOND

in an Arctic hare, which provided us with our supper, and
lumps of coal with which to cook it, had we cared to do so!

A country with food, fuel, and clothing should be called
4 rich in natural resources/ This country has all three in
abundance. I do not venture to state how many thousands
or millions of tons of coal there are here. Large and small
lumps can be found in many of the river-beds, and enor-
mous veins are seen as outcroppings on the face of cliffs.
A chemical analysis shows it to be a good grade of bitu-
minous coal. As yet we had seen no musk-oxen, though
their tracks were everywhere as in former years.

On Tuesday we drove down the fiord toward Eureka
Sound in gradually deepening snow. The Eskimo boys
kept their binoculars and telescope in constant use scanning
the hills for musk-oxen and the sea ice for polar bears.
E-took'a-shoo happened to glance back over his shoulder.
He stopped his dogs, seized his glasses and looked long and
hard for a minute or so.

'Ah-mow!' he called.

A lone white wolf was following our trail. We both re-
called a similar experience ten years before when a big
lone wolf came up behind us and stood within twenty
yards, and we had no rifles! Now we had three of the best.
I suggested to Kah-ko-tchee'a that he lie down on his
stomach on the trail behind the sealing screen, while we
drove on. The wolf was bound to follow and come within
range of the rifle. We whipped up our dogs including
Kah-ko-tcheeVs team. Mr. Wolf, unsuspecting and very
curious to know just what kind of animals we were, trotted
right up to the screen.

I had read in earlier Arctic books that a wolf was ex-
tremely hard to kill. I can readily believe this after seeing
the terrible wound in his side made by an eight-millimeter
bullet, which laid bare his vitals. He turned and with a
second shot through his hind quarters ran fully a half-mile
along the trail before dropping! At the report Koo-e-tig'-THE WHITE WOLF OF THE FAR NORTH
Enemy of musk-ox and caribouMUSK-OXEN IN DEFENSE FORMATIONTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE

169

e-to wheeled his dogs and hurried back to be in at the
death. I was astonished at the size of the animal when the
boys brought him in lashed to the upstanders of their
sledge. He measured six feet from nose to end of tail and
three feet in girth. He was six inches higher at the shoulder
than our largest dog and weighed roughly a hundred and
fifty pounds. He was an old male which had probably been
driven out of the pack by a younger wolf. Such happens
also among musk-oxen and walrus. Old age and failing
strength must inevitably give way to the strength and
ambition of youth.

While Koo-e-tig'e-to was driving back for Kah-ko-
tchee'a and the body of the wolf, E-took'a-shoo with the
glasses made a minute examination of a large river valley
abreast our sledges. I heard him say to himself, 'I-shoo-
wo!' which, translated, means 'That's so,' or, 'I thought
so!' Two herds of musk-oxen, one of twelve and the other
of ten, were seen grazing. As the sky was heavily overcast
and the light unsatisfactory for photography, I decided to
camp at the river mouth and await a bright day for my
motion pictures. Having come so far I would take no
chances with a poor light.

The musk-ox, scientifically known as Ovibos moschatus,
is for several reasons the most interesting animal in the
North. Scientists at first classified it as a member of the
sheep family, possibly because of its undercoating of wool.
To-day, it is decided that it is more closely allied to the
American bison, or buffalo, than to any other animal. It
is of interest to note that this animal has come down to us
from a period of some five hundred thousand years ago!
One other tiny animal in the North, and one alone, the
lemming, has traveled the long way in company with the
musk-ox. The Eskimo name for the musk-ox, Oo-ming-
muk, is very impressive, as it means an animal with skin
like a beard, referring to the length of the long black hair,
which often trails in the snow.170

ETAH AND BEYOND

The animals of the Far North, such as the polar bear,
wolf, caribou, hare, lemming, ermine, fox, are all white, a
protective and deceptive resemblance to their environ-
ment. A black polar bear would die of starvation, being
unable to stalk seals. A black Arctic hare would hardly
dare to emerge from his hole under the snow. White is a
life-saver in both cases in this ceaseless struggle in the
animal world. There is another reason for the utilization
of the color white in the Arctic regions, a conservation of
bodily heat, which is needed by animals living in tem-
perature of —60° and —70° F.; for none of the animals
mentioned hibernate during the winter. A white animal
does not radiate heat as readily as an animal of any other
color. The white dress for an Arctic animal is physiolog-
ically perfect.

The musk-ox is the apparent exception in the Far North.
He is black! And yet this color is a decided protection
against one of his enemies, man. I have often seen black
dots on a white hillside and been undecided even with the
aid of a good glass as to whether they were boulders or
musk-oxen. Even when close enough to show clearly the
grayish white patch on the back, they strikingly re-
sembled boulders, the tops of which were sprinkled lightly
with snow, a familiar sight all through the North. Even
my Eskimos were unable to decide until there was relative
change of position.

Furthermore, these animals feed upon dark windswept
areas whenever possible and resort to lightly covered snow
fields only when compelled to do so by hunger. In the
spring of the year, when mothers have their young and
therefore are in need of the greatest protection, they are
only momentarily on snow patches when crossing from one
feeding ground to the next, and they always sleep on soil.

If made white by Nature it would be impossible for them
to keep white; for a musk-ox does not clean himself with
his tongue or roll in the snow as does a bear, wolf, or whiteTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 171

fox. Therefore it appears that Nature has not made a
mistake in painting this animal black when his neighbors
are white. He is of interest because of the company he
kept some five hundred thousand years ago, the woolly
mammoth, the moose stag, and the forest horse. He has so
adapted himself to his environment that he has survived
them all.

During the first glacial period he appeared on the south-
ern coast of England, driven south by the advance of the
great ice sheet in Scandinavia. His bones have been found
as far south as the northern slopes of the Pyrenees Moun-
tains and in our own country as far south as New Jersey.
To-day, its range extends from the northern part of
Canada to the most northern point of land in the world,
Cape Morris Jesup. It is found on the eastern and northern
shores of Greenland, all through Ellesmere Land, Axel
Heiberg Land and islands south, except Baffin Land.
From Etah northward to the Humboldt Glacier numerous
skulls testify to its former existence in considerable num-
bers. It became extinct in this locality about 1860.

The musk-ox is gregarious, necessarily so for protection
against its only enemy besides man, the Arctic wolf. A
lone musk-ox is always an old bull, one that has un-
doubtedly been beaten in battle for the hand of Mrs.
Musk-Ox and in a fit of despondency become a hermit.
The herds I have encountered in Ellesmere Land, Grant
Land, and the northern end of Greenland have varied in
number from ten to fifty. I believe they have a tendency to
herd more closely together during the dark period and to
separate into smaller bands during the summer. I do not
consider the musk-ox dangerous to man, provided the
latter remains at a respectable distance of fifty yards, yet
I have never encountered them without dogs. Unless
attacked they would, without doubt, make good neighbors.

Baumann, of the Sverdrup Expedition of 1898-1902,
was attacked by a herd of thirty in King Oscar Land.172

ETAH AND BEYOND

With his back to the edge of a precipice there was no re-
treat; therefore he yelled, waved both arms, and ran
through them. They followed and renewed the attack
and the strategic move was repeated successfully. They
attacked again and possibly would have killed him had it
not been for the timely arrival of his dogs which diverted
the attack. Lieutenant Rawson, of the Nares Expedition
of 1875-76, attacked a cow and calf with a knife. He
succeeded in stabbing the former three times without in-
jury. Deciding that the small knife would not reach a vital
spot, he lashed it to his alpenstock and finally killed her.

At noon Wednesday the sun appeared from behind the
clouds. We hitched up our dogs and started at once up
the river-bed with the heavy Akeley camera and five
magazines of film containing a thousand feet. The musk-
oxen had gone! And owing to the rapid melting of the snow
and numerous criss-crossed tracks we could not determine
in which direction. For some unearthly reason E-took'-
a-shoo pointed west. He had a ' hunch,' to use a slang ex-
pression, that having heard the howling of our hungry
dogs the night before they had gone in that direction. His
judgment was not to be considered lightly. We drove off
in that direction, and were rewarded in a half-hour by a
sight of one of the herds sound asleep on the top of the
highest hill. It is a familiar custom with this animal when
pursued or alarmed to seek the heights where it cannot be
surprised by a sudden attack; for it commands a view of
the whole low-lying country. I have known it to ascend a
talus slope and place its back against a cliff. A wolf would
have no possible chance to contend against an animal in
this position, unless he starved him to death. Then it is
a question as to which one could hold out the longer.

At the base of the hill and unseen by the herd, we fas-
tened our dogs securely to outcropping rocks. The men
considered five dogs enough to hold the herd in position
while I was getting my pictures; therefore we took thisA BABY MUSK-OXELEVEN DEGREES FROM THE POLETHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE

173

number on a leash, some of the very best, for dogs slow on
their feet are often tossed into the air, frightfully mauled,
and even killed.

Were the- animals still there or had they bolted? I .was
so anxious to find out that I do not remember carrying the
heavy metal camera in one hand and the tripod in the
other the whole length of the hill. Arriving at the summit
we peered from behind a rock. Two of the animals were
just rising. The Eskimos in a low but stressed voice spoke
to their dogs and released them. As they bounded for-
ward, all the musk-oxen, including one calf, scrambled to
their feet. I rushed across the intervening space and set
up the camera at a distance from them of about seventy-
five feet, remembering that I had never seen them charge
more than fifty feet. The twelve full-grown animals and
the calf were in one mass, closely huddled together, and all
facing out from the center. This is their only 'formation,'
if it can be called that. That 6 they form a square,' that
they 'stand at regular intervals one from another/ that
they 'advance in turn with almost military precision/ that
the 'remaining oxen cover the gap in the square/ that 'the
cows and calves are in the middle/ that the 'reserve is
mobilized/ that 'their order of attack is planned from the
first/ my pictures all prove to be false. I have seen and
studied many herds of these animals during the last
seventeen years under all kinds of conditions, cold weather
and warm, snow-covered ground and bare ground, smooth
and rocky, with calves and without, small herds and large,
and have never seen the above-quoted statements veri-
fied.

These animals huddle almost as sheep would huddle,
with the exception that the full-grown do face the enemy
and most of the fighting is done by the bulls, who charge
with head low to the ground to pick up a dog as their
natural and possibly only enemy, the wolf. They will
never charge far from the mass for fear of being surrounded,174	ETAH AND BEYOND

which would mean their death by the pack; and they al-
ways return to the circle.

There is no regularity in their time of charging. I have
seen them stand with lowered heads rubbing their noses on
their forelegs for several minutes and I have seen all the
bulls out at once. The rapidity and frequency of their
charging depends upon the number of the attacking enemy
and the time spent. If they are not shot and the attack
by the dogs is long continued, the animals seem to lose
patience and to become more vicious.

After the first rapid and determined efforts of the bulls
to drive away the dogs, I approached within twenty-five
feet of the line and secured both moving and still photo-
graphs. One bull charged past me at least thirty feet,
turned and looked me over, and rushed back brushing the
camera. His hoofprint by actual measurement was six
inches from the leg of the tripod. My first impulse was to
slip out the two double lenses and "beat it/ feeling fairly
certain that my motion-picture camera was about to be
smashed into bits, but, as my better judgment told me I
should undoubtedly draw his fire, I remained where I was.

The little fellow/possibly a month old, faced out with
the others, and at no time concealed himself in the midst of
the herd or under the belly of his mother. I have often
seen other calves do this. Later we captured him and
slipped on a dog harness.

I have often wondered if a man could ride a musk-ox,
and have even had the crazy idea of trying it. That ques-
tion for me is settled for all time. Absolutely impossible is
my best judgment. By way of illustration—- when that
bit of a calf felt the tug of the trace on his back, he went
through a series of more astounding antics than I ever
conceived any animal to be capable of performing. He
bucked, kicked, jumped on two legs, on four, and even
bodily into the air, made a half turn and came down whack
on his. side — the mode of defense against a wolf hangingTHE TABLET AT CAPE SABINE 175

to the flanks or hind-quarters. And to think that this calf
did it all by instinct! It was by far the most interesting
thing I have ever beheld in the Arctic regions. Later, we
tied him to the body of the dead wolf. He sniffed at the
meat, snorted, backed off, and charged repeatedly. This
performance he varied by beginning anew his bucking
programme.

These animals could easily be domesticated if they were
Worth it; for before the day was over we could stroke the
head of this little calf and take him in our arms. To raise
the animals for the wool on their body is too ridiculous to
be considered, since there is more and better wool on the
body of a sheep. To raise them for meat is almost equally
so, since a large animal dressed would hot weigh even two
hundred pounds. They are mostly skin and paunch,
neither of much value.

It rained on Thursday, May 22d, much to my surprise.
We remained in camp most of the day packing away
securely my motion pictures, and refilling magazines. On
Friday the wind was so violent that for peace of mind and
sleep at night I slipped the single pole out from under the
tent and let it fall to the ground, covering us like a blanket.

Our work of taking pictures over, we decided to start
home by way of the head of Bay Fiord and the ice cap, the
'middle passage' it might be called, since there are two
others to the right and left of it. The former, which we
used in 1914, leads down into the head of Beitstadt Fiord.
The advance of the glacier in late years has, however,
rendered this route utterly impracticable.CHAPTER XII

THE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME

During the first day of our return we covered thirty-five
miles from the musk-ox camp to the very head of the fiord,
an almost steady drive of eleven hours. The last three
miles were excessively bad. With every step we broke
through the crust into which the sledges slumped up to the
cross-bars.

Two musk-oxen were seen feeding on the hills on the
south side. We passed them by as we have hundreds in this
section. I have endeavored to teach my Eskimos never to
kill unless really in need of meat or clothing. The native
has the ever-present passion of the small boy with a gun;
he often kills purely for the love of killing, a passion found
not only in the breast of a savage, but in that of the most
highly civilized. You know the picture — a poor, weak,
defenseless doe, lying on the ground, spattered with blood.
The valiant red-capped, check-shirted, corduroy-panted
hunter, right foot on fallen doe, chest out, hands folded
over muzzle of rifle, head slightly turned looking off into
space with a look of feigned modesty. Pleasure in killing!
You may understand it — I do not.

In looking back along the trail covered by years of
sledging, I can see only a few places that are in focus; all
detail has been obliterated by time; only a few mountain
peaks break the horizon. Those high spots of experience
are exceptional days, ever to be remembered because of
unusual conditions. Somehow Sunday, May 25th, stands
apart. Neither work nor toil is a fitting word to express
what we did. Sledging and automobiling are in no way
related, although both are modes of travel. Dog-driving
is a curious combination of ploughing rocky ground with a

/ONE CHILD CARRIES ANOTHER
The baby is inside the hood

A NAPGREENLAND TROUTTHE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME 177

r

high-spirited pair of horses; of playing in the line in a foot-
ball game — the sledge being your opponent; of being
anchor on a tug-of-war team, when you pull back with
every ounce of strength to save your sledge from becoming
a complete wreck; of being a cruel taskmaster toward your
poor hard-working dogs at one minute and a very soft-
hearted affectionate friend the next. No one can be a
really good man and drive a dog team successfully; and by
successfully, I mean carry heavy loads, make fast time,
break trail at the head of the line, and have absolute con-
trol over one's dogs in dangerous places where a slight move
might mean loss of sledge, dogs, and equipment, and the
possible death of the driver.

Dog-driving is a pleasure only when a team is well-fed,
can be cared for, and has easy stages of travel — a pleasure
both to dogs and driver. A good strong dog, like a man, is
keen to try out the very best that there is in him. He leaps
and bounds along the trail with tail tightly curled and
brimful of life. The reverse side of the picture is the starv-
ing, overworked dog at the end of a thousand-mile trip,
staggering along the trail toward home, which many a dog
never reaches.

Leaving the head of Bay Fiord, we turned directly into
a river valley, as we did in 1914, as the best route to the
back of the big glacier. To scale its face was impossible;
although we had in the past made the descent by ropes.
Within five minutes we were in snow up to our knees
and foresaw trouble. We labored along through the val-
ley with the dogs at times literally unable to advance a
step.

It may not be known that, when dogs stop in heavy or
moderate going, the sledge must be started again by the
driver with main strength and kept going until the dogs
with tight traces are pulling together. The reader may re-
call that, when three and four pairs of horses are used on a
heavy load, the starting depends upon concerted action.178

ETAH AND BEYOND

Therefore each time our tired dogs stopped in this deep
snow, the driver became more impatient and irritable and
belabored them unmercifully.

I tried leading my dogs on snowshoes, which plan worked
successfully across the plain to the foot of the high hill
which we were to ascend and cross. When, however, the
ascent began, there was nothing to do but push on the
upstanders and yell. To start a heavily loaded sledge up a
steep hill, keep it going until the dogs feel the weight,
tightens every muscle in the body. When finally we en-
countered a comparatively thin bed of snow halfway up
the hill overlaying a slippery surface where one could not
get a foothold, Koo-e-tig'e-to and Kah-ko-tchee'a gave
it up and combined their dogs, taking up one sledge at a
time. When we did reach the summit of the hill, which
after all our work seemed as high as Mount Washington,
but was really not more than five hundred feet, the pro-
spect ahead was far from encouraging.

It was our intention to proceed along the crest of the hill
for a mile, thence down onto the bed of a glacial lake, and
then ascend the gently sloping side of the glacier, eventu-
ally reaching the height of land, which was ice-capped.
We labored along through deep snow, the Eskimos sink-
ing to the knee at every step, a severe test of physical en-
durance especially when pushing a sledge.

Within an hour I looked back on the trail and saw
Koo-e-tig'e-to tethering his dogs to a hatchet buried in the
snow. He had given up and decided to camp alone, unable
to go on another step. I think now that he intended, after
we had gone on and he had slept and rested, to return and
try the valley route alone hoping to rejoin us when we
intersected the trail at the height of land. It "happened
that I had walked ahead of the teams for a quarter of a
mile to reconnoiter the trail and had found it fully as bad
as that already traversed, and I consequently decided to
camp. I called to the boy to come up and camp with us.THE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME 179

He was clearly surprised and looked a bit sheepish as he
drove into camp.	«

I realized the fact that if this deep snow continued it
would take us four or five days at least to get over the
glacier. As nothing could be obtained for dog food, our
dogs with such excessive work would weaken rapidly.
With the glasses the ice cap looked deep in snow.

In the morning we started on again at such a slow pace
that I seriously considered double-banking. To my as-
tonishment the Eskimos began to unpack their sledges.
What was going to happen now? Each one opened a large
sealskin generally used under the sleeping-bag when sleep-
ing in the field; placed a part of his load on top of it,
brought the edges of the skin together and laced them
securely. With nose and tail firmly tied, these strange-
looking Objects resembled large sausages. It dawned upon
me then that they were lightening their load to prevent
the sledge from sinking to the cross-bars. The sausages
were now in tow. There was very little, if any, increase in
pace. A short time later Koo-e-tig'e-to passed all three of
us going strong. I looked for the sausage. It was gone. I
looked back along the trail. It was nowhere in sight.
'What in the world has he done with that thing?' I ex-
claimed to myself. The mystery was solved some time
later when I saw him tip up his sledge and roll the sausage
out from under it. It was bearing the weight of the sledge,
which was now a toboggan.

This spurt was not long continued. Our progress was
painfully slow. Was the valley route with its sand, gravel,
rocks, and glacier front better after all? Why not go back
over our tracks to the sea ice, sledge across the fiord, and
try it? I "hated the thought of giving up what we had
attempted, of being conquered by a hill, of wasting all our
efforts in accomplishing what we already had done. Ev-
idently all entertained the same thought, for when I men-
tioned returning and trying our old route home they180

ETAH AND BEYOND

readily assented. What we had done in thirteen hours
going up, we did in two on the return. I looked back
and almost threw curses at the hill when we reached sea
ice.

Our troubles were not over; The high temperature of
the day before had played havoc with the previously hard
snow banks on the ice. In their endeavor to find a firm
footing, the dogs wandered like sheep in spite of our whips
to keep them on a straight course for the northern end of
the bay. Eventually we worked out onto our smooth ice
field of the first day and away we went for the river mouth.
We camped on a beautiful tract of dry land beneath a
beetling black cliff. How good the hot sun felt as we
stretched out flat on our backs on thick soft musk-ox skins,
each dreaming dreams of far away, of green lawns, playing
fountains, rustling leaves, school days, college days, boy-
hood friends; my native companipns of summer encamp-
ments beside babbling brooks, playing children, blue
stretches of water, an ever-revolving sun!

The harsh cry of the gyrfalcon awakened us from our
reverie. Yes, there they were — two wheeling white dots
against the blue. The nest could be easily seen — a white
splotch against the black, but plainly inaccessible. A
burgomaster or glaucous gull came house-hunting during
the evening. He was pounced upon immediately, igno-
miniously beaten, and driven out of town by these fierce
fighters of the North. This gull (Larus hyperboreus), de-
stroyer of little auks and eggs of eider ducks, meets more
than his match in this bird.

With interest I found embedded there in the ice of the
river the head of a large trout or salmon, probably the
former, for true salmon have never been found so far
north, while trout are plentiful even within nine degrees of
the North Pole, being found in large numbers in Lake
Hazen, Grant Land, 81° 45' N. We also found a species
of char in a small pond north of Cape Sheridan, 82° 30'N.THE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME 181

This head resembled closely those which we obtained from
Lake Hazen in 1909, from Alida Lake at Etah, and ap-
parently from all lakes between Etah and the Humboldt
Glacier. Such are all connected with the sea by rivers
during July and August, and are well stocked with trout.

When we awoke on the morning of Tuesday, May 27th,
the high temperature warned me at once of what would in-
evitably follow — a rapid rise of water in the river-bed. I
hurried our breakfast and urged the Eskimos to pack up as
quickly as possible. We were none too soon, and in fact a,
bit late; for a quarter of a mile above the camp the water
was up to the top of our sledges and certain places not
passable at all. As the Northern Eskimo dog is afraid of
water, it was only by the strictest kind of discipline that
we kept them at their work.

We relashed all our loads, placing perishable goods on
top. I was thus relieved of considerable anxiety over my
photographs which we had worked so hard to obtain. We
alternated during the day between wading in ice water and
tramping over dry ground. As a boot made from a Smith
Sound sfealskin is not water-tight and the sole is very
slippery when wet, our footgear was not at all adapted for
this kind of work.

Finally it became necessary to unpack everything and
tump from one snow patch to the next. We continued this
operation for the rest of the day. Numerous bare spots of
twenty-five and fifty yards we attempted with full loads,
pushing our sledges until we were completely exhausted,
and yelling so continuously to the dogs that I was hoarse
when we made camp at the western edge of the Reed
Glacier.

It was a question now whether we should go over the
back of the glacier by cutting ice steps or again attempt a
passage along its broken face through the rough ice. Had
we been certain of getting down on the other side, we
should not have hesitated an instant in our decision. As182	; ETAH AND BEYOND

every one who has beeii a real boy knows, it is much easier
to go up than to get down.

When we packed up in the morning we headed for the
broken face and consequent hard work for the rest of the
day. Within fifteen minutes our loads were on our backs
and we were picking our way cautiously through a chaotic
mass of ice toward a twenty-foot sheer drop into the
river-bed. Here every thing was pulled to the top with our
long sledge lashings. Rather than risk smashing our
sledges, which is easily done when they are heavily loaded,
we decided to tump everything through the narrow pass
over the broken ice. 1 had finished one trip and was on my
second, when I saw the Eskimos, who were ahead of me
with their first load, scrambling up the rocky slope con-
tiguous to the glacier, looking back over their shoulders
and yelling for me to go back. They declared that the face
of the glacier was about to fall. I had heard the snapping
and cracking, but attached very little importance to it,
knowing that we must take that chance in order to get by.
The face of a glacier often snaps for hours before it falls.
I went on, calling to them to hurry up and get*dogs,
sledges, and equipment by before it did fall.

Reluctantly they returned to their abandoned packs
and followed me through at a furious clip puffing and
sweating in their anxiety and excitement at the thought
of being buried under tons of ice. They would not return,
however, in the same way, but scrambled like goats along
the side of the hill. If one's thoughts were permitted to
dwell upon the possibility of such a contingency, the sit-
uation,! admit, would seem a serious one. It was better
for our peace of mind to declare that it wouldn't fall than
to feel certain that it would.

In working dogs and sledges over and through the rough
ice, we deemed it prudent not to use our axes, as the vibra-
tion might start something. I happened to mention that
I believed a rifle shot might cause a fall. E-took'a-shooTHE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME 183

suggested that it might be well to wait until we were out of
it before we tried it.

One block weighing a ton or more fell behind Koo-e-tig'-
e-to. His Arctic-hare jump, his startled look and the drop-
ping of his pack were funny to us in a safe place, but not
so to him. He looked at his pack for some minutes before
he gingerly crept back and again adjusted it to his head and
shoulders. A few things only were abandoned as not being
worth the risk.

As we drove out onto the surface of the lake, I knew that
we were the last to go through that pass for thousands of
years to come. In another year the face of the glacier would
press against the rocky slope of the hill and the western
end of the valley would be closed to travelers. A closer
examination of the eastern slope confirmed our belief that
a descent would have been dangerous and even impossible.

We proceeded on up the valley to the gorge and pitched
our tent in the river-bed, knowing that we were facing a
hard day, for it was here that we encountered the long
stretch of bare ground. The next morning we shouldered
our heavy packs and climbed the hill to the plateau above,
each man making two trips. We returned for the dogs and
empty sledges. Tumping and sledging intermittently,
we plodded over bare ground to the river-bed above the
ravine. To our delight the trail leading on to the height
of land was nearly as good as when we came over it twelve
days before. Was it possible that we could go over in one
day? I had anticipated at least two and possibly three, if
the same warm weather prevailed here as we had experi-
enced in Bay Fiord. Up we went and down the other side
at a rattling pace, camping within sight of sea ice.

In crossing from Bay Fiord to Flagler Bay, we observed
numerous sites of old Eskimo encampments, indicating
one of the migration trails of the Smith Sound Eskimos
many centuries ago. In fact all lands west of North Green-
land show former habitation by these nomads of the184

ETAH AND BEYOND

Arctic. The existence of so many tent rings and old aban-
doned igloos in Bay Fiord, Eureka Sound, Axel Heiberg
Land, Amund Ringnes Land, and North Cornwall, ob-
served by me in 1914 and 1916, would not be proof of a
vast number of these people or extinction by starvation or
disease, but signifies simply a moving on to better hunting
grounds, as is their custom.

A short drive the next morning brought us to sea ice and
excellent sledging. By four o'clock we had killed three seals
for our dogs, which were sadly in need of them, having
been without food for four days. Henceforth they would be
full to the neck! We camped at once to give them a banquet.

With astonishment we found the mouth of Flagler Bay
completely open. This large stretch of open water was
fairly alive with eider ducks, old squaws, and burgomaster
gulls. Many old Eskimo igloos on the south side of the
entrance would indicate the fact that conditions were the
same here centuries ago as to-day, for a village is always
situated with reference to its food supply.

We have found the mouth of this bay open in February
and March. The Eskimos affirm that it is rarely closed.
This condition during midwinter is undoubtedly due to the
undercutting of the ice by the strong tide flowing in and
out of the bay. Since the ice in the vicinity of this hole is
much less in thickness than that covering the rest of the
bay, it is readily and quickly melted by the warm sun in
the spring — result, a tremendous hole early in the season.

Our only way out was by ice foot along the land on the
north and east sides. Arriving at the outer point we dis-
covered the ice foot gone; our trail led to a black wall. The
sea ice was only twenty yards away. Blocked again! To
return into the bay and follow the east and south shores
was a long hard trip. The natives called my attention to
several pans which were detached from the main field, and
remarked that possibly on the flood tide they might swing
within reach and thus form a bridge.A. SEAL-HOLE IN THE SPRING OF THE YEAR

A GOOD BAGSEAL-HUNTING BY KAYAK
This Eskimo had been presented with a pair of spectacles

SEAL-HUNTING ON THE ICE WITH A RIFLE
What the seal sees when he lifts his headTHE STRUGGLE TOWARD HOME 185

We returned to a niche in the cliff and pitched our tent
to await what might happen. About midnight Kah-ko-
tchee'a came running back from his observation post with
the news that one pan was swinging across the intervening
space. We grabbed the tent, sleeping-bags, cooking-box,
skins, and other camp paraphernalia and hurried along
the ice foot to the crossing. We rushed back for our dogs
and sledges, and within a few minutes were all across on the
ice of Buchanan Bay. We proceeded east to the immediate
vicinity of a large iceberg, from which we could obtain
water for our tea, and there camped for the night.

On Sunday, June 1st, we covered thirty-five miles,
following mainly our old trail along the shore of Bache
Peninsula, thence cutting across through heavy going to
Camp Clay of the Greely Expedition. Just before making
camp E-took'a-shoo shot two seals at one hole. Earlier
in the day Koo-e-tig'e-to had captured in the snow a seal
that had wandered away from his hole; consequently we
had an abundance of meat for our dogs.

Before proceeding on the next day, I walked into the
camp to get a rock from the walls of the old hut to fulfill a
promise made to Goddard, who wanted a souvenir rock for
a prospective fireplace. It happened to be thick fog; con-
sequently I stuck close to our old sledge trail. Returning,
I became confused over several trails leading onto a wind-
swept ice patch and nearly missed my men. A yell to as-
certain their whereabouts brought Koo-e-tig'e-to on the
run and very much alarmed, knowing that I never carried
a gun. He was afraid that Mr. Bear and I were disputing
over the rights of the trail. )

We felt now that our trip was over, and headed out into
the fog-covered sound for home, which we reached about
midnight by an overland route, leading our tired dogs.
The sledges we were compelled to leave on the ice foot west
of Cairn Point because of open water. A yell from the
ever-watchful Eskimos aroused the men on the Bowdoin186

ETAH AND BEYOND

who came rushing out £0 meet us. All was well on board
under the charge of Robinson.

One bit of news was of interest. The boys had lost my
two-thousand-dollar motion-picture camera and tripod,
which had gone to the bottom off Cape Hatherton in
fifty fathoms! I had anticipated this, and consequently
had brought a spare which I had just returned with from
Ellesmere Land. With an expert mechanic on board I Was
optimistic as to a continuance of its good work.CHAPTER XIII

GLORIOUS SPRING DAYS

What a difference three weeks had made in conditions
about the ship! No longer snow houses over our hatches
to retain heat and break the wind; the Bowdoin's decks
were absolutely clean. No longer a snow embankment
from bow to stern to prevent internal condensation. Her
sides were exposed to a continuous sunlight to warm her
up. The Eskimos and two of my men, Goddard and Mix,
were in tents on the high dry ground. Summer had come
and was being proclaimed by the dovekies, black guille-
mots, eider ducks, long-tailed ducks, and glaucous gulls.
The men were happy because they were busy ; the natives
were busy because they were happy. Although born in the
North and spending their days there, they admit that they
prefer warm weather to cold, and for this reason they en-
joy hunting and they enjoy eating.

We have heard of the proverbial man in the South who
lives under the banana tree and shakes for his dinner.
Conditions are almost parallel in the North in the summer.
The Eskimo can sit on a talus slope and wave a dip net for
his breakfast. It is too easy; he lets his wife do it! The
hillsides are literally swarming with bird life from May
15th to the first week in September. With watch in my
hand I timed an Eskimo woman and counted the birds
netted. She averaged one a minute. They will often
catch five at one sweep, so the Eskimos tell me. The num-
ber whirring by cannot be exaggerated.

The plump little dovekie, weighing between three and
four ounces, is a deliciously edible morsel. Its contribution
to the Eskimos' winter food supply is no small one. Form-
erly the skins were made into shirts, the feathers being worn188

ETAH AND BEYOND

next to the body. A stronger and larger skin for this pur-
pose, however, is that of the Brunnich's murre, large num-
bers of which are also netted at various settlements on the
coast.

While the women and children are engaged in netting
birds and gathering eggs by the thousand from certain
duck islands, the men and boys are out in kayaks hunting
walrus and seal, the former a dangerous adversary and
one which requires considerable skill in capturing. To
attack a thousand and even a two-thousand-pound animal
from a frail, almost paper-thin, sealskin boat measuring
twenty-one inches wide and nine deep, calls for courage in
the highest degree. No Eskimo can swim, and swimming
would avail but little in water at 29° Fahrenheit.

It is a beautiful sight to see a man of experience, seated
in his kayak with deck awash, dart noiselessly up behind
the rounded black back of a walrus up from his bed of clams
to breathe for a few minutes. The moment is tense to the
onlooker when the hunter disengages his right hand from
the double paddle, grasps the ivory steel-tipped harpoon,
draws it back over his shoulder, and throws with a graceful
curve. Almost before the weapon has reached its mark the
hunter is away with vigorous strokes of his paddle. The
carefully coiled line whirrs from the deck as he retreats.
The float, an inflated skin of a seal, and the drag drop into
the water. We anxiously watch for motion, the signal
that the game has been bagged. The float is violently
jerked through the water, at times wholly submerged. The
walrus is swimming deep and doing his utmost to escape
from this strange enemy, hitherto unknown.

Rising to the surface, he glances at the black object
persistently following. He turns, draws back his massive
head, and jabs repeatedly with his strong white tusks.
The air-inflated skin rebounds like a rubber ball. Dis-
couraged at his futile efforts to inflict damage, the animal,
breathing hard and with bloodshot eyes, surveys sullenlyLITTLE AUKS AT ETAH
A staple article of food for the EskimosPOLAR BEAR AND CUB TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM THE BOWDOIN

MILLIONS OF TONS OF ICE
Note the size of the iceberg in comparison with the menGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	189

the encircling kayaks with their merciless killing irons. It
is cruel work, this quest for food that we may live.

A long line of kayaks headed for shore signifies that the
battle is over and the game in tow. The inflated sealskin,
now upright in the water with its outstretched flippers
strangely resembling an animal, bobs and whirls in the
wake as it supports the thousand and more pounds of rich
red meat.

A rough pile of rocks marks the cache. When the sum-
mer's sun falls below the horizon and the Northern land is
wrapped in darkness and winter sleep, a dog team stops on
the ice foot, a fur-clad figure ascends the slope, hesitates
for a moment as he peers into the gloom, picks his way
among numerous old rock piles, the former caches of his
ancestors, and stops beside his summer's work. Rolling
away the rocks, he finds the various pieces a frozen mass,
discouraging to a white man, who would certainly require
a crowbar, axe, and saw to obtain even a single piece.

The native, by long practice, is an adept in the use of
the wedge, one of primitive man's most useful tools. He
inserts a pointed rock between two joints. His hammer is
a rock as heavy as he can lift; and he may continue to lift
and drop for several minutes. Infinite patience is one of his
virtues. He has plenty of time. He is not a slave to factory
whistle or time-tables or office hours. Eventually each
piece lies by itself on the sledge, which disappears in the
darkness, its objective a lighted sealskin window down
the shore, and behind the translucent square, seated on the
warm fur-covered bed, wife and laughing children antici-
pating father's arrival.

The meat is dragged through the long entrance, pulled
up through the hole in the rock-covered floor, placed in the
center of the room, and the banquet is on. The frozen
meat is too hard to cut; therefore it is hacked with a large
knife, much as they hack ivory or bone or hard wood in
fashioning parts of their equipment.190

ETAH AND BEYOND

The frozen chips are passed to the naked children tumb-
ling about among the skins, who suck and chew and reach
out over the bed platform for more. The joint is now
placed in the vicinity of the soapstone lamp, where it may
readily thaw. Later in the evening the neighbors are sum-
moned to a steaming pot full of cooked meat. Tongues
wag, jokes are cracked, laughter reigns in the primitive
home, while outside biting winds sweep down from the ice-
covered hills above and the ice foot emits weird sounds.

Nannook, the polar bear, is the King of the North. And
as yet not a single specimen secured by any one on the ex-
pedition! Not that polar bears are decreasing in numbers.
One may find them anywhere a;nd everywhere and then
not see one for months at a time. It is largely a matter of
chance. They had certainly visited the ship and the
immediate neighborhood during the winter night, as was
indicated by the numerous tracks on the ice and near-by
hills. When we were visiting fox traps at Cape Ilatherton,
four miles south, we frequently found a maze of fresh bear
tracks.	-1

Robinson and McCue were especially anxious to get
a good specimen. To Robinson I offered my dog team
lately returned from Ellesmere Land; to McCue, that
belonging to Koo-e-tig'e-to. With a fresh team, that of
Ki-wee'a, to break trail, and an experienced man as guide,
E-took'a-shoo, they should have no trouble in covering
plenty of distance in two weeks. I confidently expected
them to kill at least two bears, for this is a favorite resort
of these animals, who undoubtedly frequent the vicinity
because of an abundance of seals, which here find ideal
conditions for giving birth to, and guarding, their young.
The maternity hospital of the prospective seal mother is on
the surface of the ice beneath a snow bank, connected with
the sea by a hole, well protected from the cold, but not al-
ways from the keen scent of a bear, who digs down throughGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	191

the roof of the home, kills the little one and lies in wait for
the mother. We have often found the bones of both
scattered on the ice.

This custom of making an igloo under the snow is
peculiar to the little ringed seal (Phoca hispida or fostida).
The harp, the bearded, and the hood or bladdernose give
birth to their young on the surface of the floe, and drift
southward with the Arctic current to the shores of Labra-
dor and beyond, where the youngster takes to the water
land with its parent slowly makes its way northward.

The principal food, therefore, of the polar bear is the little
ringed seal, the 'floe rat' of Northern whalemen. When
sated with seal fat, he roams the land eating grass and
birds' eggs, that of the eider duck especially, of which he
can easily obtain large numbers. The polar bear does not
hibernate; he is ever in quest of food. The female makes
her den under a snow bank, and generally, if not always,
on the land and on soil, the floor of the den a depression,
resembling somewhat a large bird's nest. Here the young,
one and quite Often two, are born in December. About
the first of May they venture forth 'with the parent in quest
of seals basking on the ice and of seals' igloos under the
snow banks. The cubs travel with their mother for a year
at least; for we have killed female bears in May with last
year's cubs. We may conclude from this fact that polar
bears do not give birth every year.	!

Evidence is wanting that polar bears ever attack walrus,
although terrific battles have been pictured in sculpture
and there are traditions among the Eskimos concerning
such battles. That they attack musk-oxen is also a moot
question. One incident alone might lead one to infer this.
In 1916, as we were driving past an iceberg near the shore
of a musk-ox country, a polar bear rushed at our dogs
from around the comer as if he had been lying in wait. He
turned instantly when he discovered his mistake and ran
for shelter. I shall always think that the bear had mis-192

ETAH AND BEYOND

taken the black traveling mass, four sledges and tliirty-six
dogs, for a herd of musk-oxen crossing from one island to
the next.

On Sunday, June 8th, the Eskimos killed a hood seal
(Cystophora cristata). This is also called the 4bladder-nose'
because of the air sac on its head, which it inflates at will
through a tube leading from the back of the mouth. As
this device is used only when the seal is angry or defending
himself against attack, it must be there as a means of de-
fense and protection to the skull. The hood seal reaches a
length of eight feet and a weight of nine hundred pounds.
It is not common in the Smith Sound district and is rarely
captured, since it does not frequent the bays and harbors,
but is generally found off shore in the floe. It is a fierce
fighter, being more rapid in its movements than any other
seal in Eastern waters. The main herd frequents waters
east of Greenland, where it was formerly slaughtered by
Danes, English, and Americans in immense numbers, some
five hundred thousand being killed in eight years. The few
skins which are taken by the Northern natives are used
upon the sledge to bind the load, and when hunting they
are spread upon the snow bed beneath the caribou skins
to protect the occupant from moisture.

On the 9th we ballasted the Bowdoin for the homeward
trip, putting beneath the floor of the hold seven tons of
small stones, the very best for this purpose. With two dog
teams this was accomplished in two hours and a half;
whereas if we had delayed for open water it could not have
been done under two days. In the selection of a harbor for
winter quarters, one must always consider the availability
of good ballast in the spring. Refuge Harbor, with its
many other good qualities, was ideal in this respect, be-
cause there were tons and tons of crushed rock upon its
northern slope within a few yards of the water's edge.

Our last two visitors from the south had reported fresh
tracks of caribou in the valley below Cape Hatherton, eightPURPLE SAXIFRAGE

DRYAS, A MEMBER OF THE ROSE FAMILYARCTIC POPPY

COTTON-GRASS
A very common plant in the Far NorthGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	193

miles to the south. On the 12th, Jaynes, an especially good
shot with a rifle, and Kah-ko-tchee'a got away with one
dog team in the hope of securing for our table some fresh
caribou meat. They were back on the 14th with two car-
ibou, a very welcome addition, as this delicious meat is
pronounced by some of the men the very best in the North.

The ice was disappearing so rapidly along the shore that
I worried a bit over the safety of one of our dories left at
Cape Hatherton by McCue and Robinson some weeks
before. Jaynes and Mix volunteered to walk down along
the ice foot and row the boat back to our harbor. They
found her safe and proceeded to launch her from the top of
the ice foot, which is not easily done. What was apparently
a successful launching, the dory having landed flat on her
bottom, was to their consternation followed by an inrush of
water which completely filled her! She could not be bailed
out, and there she was in an ideal situation for being
crushed should drift ice impinge upon the ice foot.

They were in a quandary as to just what to do. Mix
suggested that they pull her bow up as high as possible
and make her fast to a hole chipped in the ice. He would
then slide down on the rope and bail out as much water as
he could. They did this, and in doing so discovered that
the dory was split practically from stem to stern along the
garboard strake. Realizing that vessels are sometimes
heeled or listed to keep a hole or a bad leak above water,
they sat on the rail and brought the dory home, having
plugged the crack with rags as well as they could.

By June 17th, southern slopes were a mass of purple
saxifrage, the earliest flower of the Northland. That
flowers do grow at all, and as far north as land goes, is a
surprise to the newcomer, who forgets that in the Arctic
we enjoy a long period of continuous sunlight, that sun-
light which is so essential for the growth of all plant life.
In fact, there is more sunlight at the North Pole than at
any other spot on earth, even more than at the South Pole.194

ETAII AND BEYOND

As a result flowers spring up as if by magic even at the
edge of snow banks, eager to begin their allotted task of
perpetuating their kind before the cold winds and snow
flurries of August and September chill and deaden their
efforts.

The eminent botanist, Dr. Joseph D. Hooker, states
that there are about seven hundred and seventy species of
plants within the Arctic Circle. In 1853-55, Dr. Kane
collected one hundred and six species of flowering plants in
North Greenland. In 18(50-01, Dr. Hayes added five or
six unrecorded ones to this list. In 1913-17, my botanist,
W. Elmer Ekblaw, collected one hundred and twenty-five
species of vascular plants between Melville Bay and the
Humboldt Glacier. It is of interest to note that many of
the plants found in Greenland are found in our country
only upon the summits of the White and Adirondack
Mountains.

The saxifrage is quickly followed by the buttercup, the
golden arnica, the dandelion, the bluebell, the Lapland
rhododendron, the woolly cat's-paw, the shinleaf, the
andromeda, purple rocket, cinquefoils, Arctic poppy, and
several species of the rose family. The poppy is the cheer-
iest and the hardiest of all, and is found virtually every-
where even upon the bleak summits of nunataks five and
six thousand feet above the sea. Were there land at the
Pole, it would be dotted with yellow, for this flower Would
certainly be there.

On the 20th, Robinson and McCue returned from their
bear hunt, unsuccessful. In spite of very deep snow off the
Humboldt Glacier, they had reached Cape Calhoun and
Cape Webster beyond the eightieth parallel. Bear tracks
were numerous, both old and new. One bear was seen
within two hundred yards, but, owing to deep snow,
pursuit and capture were impossible.

Peabody Bay was a chaotic mass of table-topped ice-
bergs, large in area but inferior in height. The sea iceGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	195

was of such a character as to lead my men to infer that
it had remained there for years. The surface of old ice
is extremely irregular and is as billowy as the ocean. This
is caused by successive melting and freezing of annual snow-
falls and is the 'glacial fringe' of Peary and the 'paleo-
crystic floe' of Nares. The deep bays and shores of both
North Greenland and Grant Land are filled with it. My
observations lead me to the belief that only in unusual
years and under special conditions are those bodies of water
clear, and when they are clear the ice therefrom drifting
down into the North Atlantic is of an especially menacing
type, being low, flat, hard as flint, and well-nigh invisible
at night. The year of the Titanic disaster (1912) was no-
table for the prevalence of this type of berg.

On June 23d, Goddard closed his observatory after
eight full months of observations upon the earth's mag-
netism and atmospheric electricity. I am assured by Dr.
Louis Bauer, Director of the Department of Terrestrial
Magnetism at Washington, that these are to be of the ut-
most value to scientists in their study of this important
subject.

On the 24th, a prolonged yell from the mouth of the
harbor announced that something had happened. We
placed our dory upon a sledge and rushed to the water's
edge. Rowing out among the scattered pans of ice, we soon
descried Kah-ko-tchee'a and Koo-e-tig'e-to vigorously
at work in the twelve-foot steel boat, towing a huge walrus.
With their eight-millimeter rifles they had attacked a herd,
killing two, but as they had only one harpoon they could
secure but one. This animal rarely floats when killed and
must be harpooned before it ceases its struggles, else big
air bubbles denote that the game is lost. The natives of
' the west and south coast of Baffin Land for this reason
never shoot to kill, but to wound. The walrus, tired with
its efforts to keep afloat, seeks the surface of a pan of ice,
where it is harpooned from a large boat. They apparently196

ETAH AND BEYOND

lack courage to harpoon such a formidable animal from
their light kayaks as do the Smith Sound natives.

Of late we had been anxiously watching the calendar.
The eider ducks must be laying their eggs on Littleton and
Eider Duck Islands, ten miles south. On the afternoon
of the 25th, Ivah-ko-tchee'a, Koo-e-tig'e-to, Bromfield,
and I left Refuge Harbor for a quick run down and back.
With three pairs of oars we covered the distance in a very
short time. One incident on the way was of interest. Pass-
ing along close to the shore, I was astonished at the size
and the beauty of a patch of purple saxifrage. As I ex-
amined it more closely, I discerned a snow-white spot in
the midst of the flowers. Milky quartz, I surmised, and a
good specimen! 'Shoo-nau-na?' ('What is it?') I inquired.
Imagine my surprise at the answer, 'An Eskimo skull!'
Further inquiry as to why he should be especially favored
by resting on a bed of beautiful flowers brought the infor-
mation that the man was killed there by a polar bear, which
ate the body, leaving the skull with its sightless eyes to
look upon the waters where it had loved to hunt. The dead
Eskimo in his rock tomb, wrapped in sealskins, and bear
ing upon his breast the beautifully fashioned nest of a snow
bunting, instantly recurred to me; death hand in hand with
new life.

The ice foot surrounding Eider Duck Island presented
its familiar impregnable front as usual at this time of year.
Only at one place were we able to surmount it.

A whirring of wings over our heads, a passing and re-
passing of the brown bodies of the females, the black and
white of the males, indicated that the birds had dis-
covered the marauders, as I acknowledge we were. A few
minutes' search confirmed what we had all suspected; the
island had been visited by Etah Eskimos. But although all
eggs, as we afterwards learned, had been gathered upon
two different occasions, we collected about a thousand. I
picked up three hundred and twenty, and each EskimoGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	197

boy; declared that he had as many if not more. McGary's
Rock off the western end of the island was alive with
glaucous gulls and eider ducks. This we did not visit, feel-
ing that we had enough for the present

As we finished gathering, Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa and
Noo'ka-ping'wa arrived from Etah in their kayaks.
They had come to collect what the birds had laid during
the last two or three days, and felt quite chagrined upon
discovering us already on the island. It was their intention
to 'corner' all eggs and later trade with us for tobacco.
Wall Street at the North Pole! To console them over their
loss, we invited them to go to the ship with us, assuring
them that our boat was going to Etah within a few days
and they could return in company with the party. We
reached the Bowdoin at four in the morning, having really
enjoyed the twenty-mile row.

Another trip was planned at once. Goddard had finished
his work. Mix could get nothing from his wireless, since
we had bright sunlight day and night. Jaynes wanted to
try some ducks on the wing. The Eskimos and their wives
wanted to visit Etah and net little auks. The party got
away on the 27th, our little steel boat with outboard
motor towing an old boat belonging to Panikpak. One boat
was really necessary to carry the ammunition! If all of
this was used and with each cartridge its bird brought
down, could we ever eat the ducks!

On Tuesday, July 1st, we decided to try for narwhal and
white whale, which frequent the edge of the ice extending
from Cairn Point to Cape Sabine, possibly awaiting an
opportunity to proceed northward through Kane Basin,
Kennedy and Robeson Channels to the Polar Sea. We had
no sooner passed Cairn Point abeam than a rounded back
of a white whale was seen cutting the surface of the water
some three hundred yards distant. Noo'ka-ping'wa and
Ki-wee'a shot their kayaks ahead of our dory and, with
lines carefully coiled and harpoons ready, waited quietly198

ETAII AND BEYOND

for the whale's reappearance. As the whale emerged to
blow, both boys darted ahead and ranged along his side.
The harpoons were in the air together. I thought that each
had scored a hit, but one rapidly moving float, that of Noo'-
ka-ping'wa, told the story. To my surprise the whale
sounded and remained deep down for several minutes,
when I rather expected a mad rush for the center of the
straits. And when she came to the surface she swam
around in a big circle in a rather leisurely manner seeming
to lack the energy of a harpooned walrus. She was easily
dispatched with my 405 Winchester. A hard pull with
three pairs of oars brought her to the edge of the ice at
the narrows of Refuge Harbor. Here, with an improvised
tackle of rawhide reeved through holes cut in the ice and
through slits in the blubber, we pulled her to the surface of
the ice. The fat was soon in our big copper kettle, heating
over a wood fire on the beach —oil for the Bowdoin's
engine to help us on our homeward trip. In the selection
of an engine for Arctic work, I had this very object in
view — whale oil for fuel if need be. A test later by my
engineer gave perfect satisfaction.

The white whale is commonly known as the Beluga,
from the Russian, signifying white. Scientists now recog-
nize but one species, although twelve or more have been
classified and named. The mother may be mottled, yellow-
ish, or white, according to her age; the young is a dark slate
in color. It is of interest that the Greenland natives some
years ago regarded the white whale as the wife of the nar-
whal! This animal is not exclusively Arctic in its range, as
has been stated. Specimens have been seen and secured
as far south as the Maine and Massachusetts coasts, but
never in great herds as in the North, where five hundred
aiid more are often seen at the mouth of salmon rivers and
even in the river itself. They are from sixteen to twenty
feet in length and lack a dorsal fin. The most marked
peculiarity of this species is the presence of a real neck.GLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	199

which giVes it a peculiar appearance/ The sailor's name,
'Sea Canary,' is applicable, for a whining sound is easily
discernible especially when the hearer is down in the cabin
of a ship.

In the Far North the white whale is likely to follow the
coast line closely, going in and out of all bays in search of
the trout, which issue from the lakes with the first rush of
water in the spring and cruise along the shore in shoals. Its
cousin, the narwhal, is more numerous about Smith Sound
and Kane Basin and more interesting because of the
spiral tusk of the male, which is really an enlarged max-
illary tooth from six to eight feet in length. This horn, al-
ways twisted from right to left, is peculiar to the male.
Two horns are not uncommon, but they are generally of
unequal length. Just what their function may be is a
matter of conjecture. The natural conclusion would be
that it is used as a weapon of attack in battle with rival
males or with walrus. I have watched them by the hour
leisurely crossing tusks and rubbing them over the backs
of the females. There is another possible explanation that
might deserve further consideration. We found halibut in
the stomach of the narwhal. Any boy brought up on the
water knows how easily flatfish can be speared. Do nar-
whals spear halibut? The tip of the tusk is always smooth
and frequently broken. The spiral would tend to revolve
the fish up the tusk as the narwhal swims through the
water, thus enlarging the wound, and also fastening the
fish more securely in his struggles to free himself. A re-
lease of water pressure and a shake of the horn would easily
dislodge the food from such a tapering tusk. The most
serious Objection to this theory is that Nature has favored
the male only with this hunting implement.

On the 2d the men arrived from Littleton Island with one
hundred and twenty-six eider ducks. The additional
number killed by the Eskimos and eaten by the party in
camp would bring the total to about two hundred in all.200

ETAH AND BEYOND

We immediately placed these in cold storage for Sunday
dinners from that time until our arrival home.

On the 5th, Robinson, Kah-ko-tchee'a and I left in our
thirteen-foot dory for Eider Duck Island and Etah. With
a good breeze we ran down to the island in one hour and
thirty-five minutes, reaching there on the dead high water
and consequently at a favorable time for landing on the
troublesome ice foot. The wind was so strong that we
thought it best to stay for the night. Within a very short
time we had collected two hundred fresh eggs and were
listening to the sputter in the frying-pan. Young eiders
and young glaucous gulls were found at every turn, the
latter waiting to be fed upon the former by their parents,
wheeling and darting over our heads.

The burgomaster or glaucous gull (.Larus hyperboreus)
leads a life of ease and plenty during the summer months.
He leaves his diet of dead fish in the South and goes North
to become a bird of prey and feast upon live game, the
dovekie and tender young eiders. And how easily his food
is secured! The ducks are often within a few feet of his
nest and the air is black with a swarm of dovekies.

The weather was so threatening the next day that we
moved our tent to higher and drier ground, fearing a wet
summer snowstorm such as we had experienced here in
1916, when both ducks and ourselves were snowed under.
But our fears were dispelled the next morning, a perfect day
with bright sunshine. Before setting sail for Etah, we
rowed over to Hans Island, named by Dr. Kane in 1853 for
his South Greenland Eskimo assistant, Hans Hendrick.
The ledge — for it is nothing more — was bestrewn with
the scraggly-looking, abandoned nests of the glaucous gull.
The young had gone out into the world and were hiding
in cracks in the rocks and running along the ice foot looking
anxiously at the sea which they knew instinctively to be
their refuge. Two or three nests of half-hatched eider
chicks testified to the stupidity of mothers who would



A WHITE WHALE

ARCTIC HARE FOR DINNER!NEST AND YOXJNG OF THE BURGOMASTER GULL

YOUNG OF THE BURGOMASTER GULLGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	201

attempt to rear their young in such a hostile environ-
ment.

With a fair wind we ran along the south shore of Little-
ton Island amid a steady stream of eider ducks startled
from their nests, and squared away for Sunrise Point and
Etah Harbor. The fiord was still fast in winter ice. Land-
ing on the edge, we unloaded our dory and pulled her over
the ice for a quarter of a mile to a safe place on the land
west of Provision Point. No boat is safe on harbor ice at
this time of year. A southerly wind, a slight swell, a shift
of wind, and away everything goes to sea. Boats are
numberless which have been lost in this way.

A young seal basking in the sun encouraged me to at-
tempt a 'close-up' with the motion-picture camera without
the aid of a screen. Kah-ko-tchee'a, with his rifle and I
with the camera, walked up within thirty yards. We both
got him. To get him in the camera and to have him always
is so much more exciting than killing him with a rifle!
For me there is no comparison between the two kinds
of "sport/ The camera requires far more skill and pa-
tience.

We now dispatched our Eskimo to the head of the fiord
to summon Ak-kom'o-ding'wa and his dog team to help
us with our equipment over the harbor ice. Robinson, who
was acting as cook of our little expedition, went in search
of something for supper. The frequent banging of his
twenty-gauge shotgun testified to an abundance of some-
thing. He soon returned with a number of black guillemots
(Cepphus mandti), commonly known to us as sea pigeons.
He had averaged two and even three to a shot.

This hardy bird is the sprightliest one of the North;
hardy because it prefers to remain with us during the dark
winter night when freezing spray is whipping across the
surface of the Sound; and sprightly because it demonstrates
in every bodily movement that living is pure fun. A whir
of white-patched wings, a spreading of two crimson webbed202	ETAH AND BEYOND

feet;: a happy-go-lucky belly slide and 'I'm here' look,
identifies this fellow at once.

Where was Jimmie, as we familiarly called our Eskimo?
We became impatient at his delay and started along, hav-
ing placed our goods well back from the edge of the ice,
which was constantly breaking off and drifting southward
under the influence of the warm sun. A few minutes' walk-
ing revealed the reason for Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa's non-
arrival. The ice was intersected by leads in all directions.
There was a detour at every corner and some between
leading back into the original! We ran so far and jumped
so often that we felt we could win any intercollegiate track
meet were we given the opportunity to compete.

Disgusted and out of patience with such an Etah re-
ception, Robinson gained the land at the site of our old
house, where, attracted by the beauty of great beds of
flowers, he lost all interest in our progress up the Bay.
Yes, we can jump right off the ice into a bed of beautiful
flowers in that country. I kept on up the fiord wading and
jumping lanes or leads of water.

Here we met Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa and his dog team
bound: down. Jimmie had arrived at the Eskimo camp and
had notified our savage friends of our arrival. An hour
later, I reached the tent and found our old housekeeper
and her three children. Noo'ka-ping'wa, who was now
visiting at the: ship; was her youthful husband. A pretty
South Greenland costume, consisting of shiny sealskin
pants, bead collar, and red boots, caught him, and he has
been trying to swap her ever since. He declared he would
have succeeded had the minister not arrived with modern
ideas, which are a bit too ethical for primitive man. He
figured that if he remained away from home and did not
talk when he did go home, she might then swap herself!

We-we, with true hospitality, served us with strong
Danish coffee and boiled little auks. And what a change
she had made in our old igloo! No longer frozen junks ofGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	203

walrus meat as a floor, but new cut sod from the hills. The
bed was covered with new grass; the walls with dressed
sealskins; the broken pane of glass was replaced with
translucent skin; the entrance was free of cans, bottles,
and bones, and yet her husband did not appreciate his
home!

In contrast to this was Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa's thread-
bare white man's tent inhabited by himself, a man of
sixty, and his third wife within six months, a girl of sixteen
or seventeen. Rumor was rife that he had stolen this girl.
There must have been sufficient motive for the crime. I
expected to see a beauty. One glance convinced us that the
old man was losing his mind or at least his judgment. No
one would ever steal what we saw unless he did it in the
dark!

The bridegroom soon arrived, wet above his knees,
covered with sweat, and with only half the load. We had
brought the necessary camp equipment, such as our tent,
stove, etc., but had left on the harbor ice, more than a
mile away, the really valuable things, which exceeded two
thousand dollars in value! A fifty-cent coffee pot was of
more value in his Eskimo eyes than a fifteen-hundred-
dollar camera —- a striking illustration of the current
definition of value, yet easily comprehended: there was
potential happiness in the coffee pot; nothing in the black
box. The old man is practical.

We invited all the inhabitants of the village, six in all,
to our tent for tea and biscuit, both highly appreciated if
milk and sugar are in stock. Jimmie promised to return
for the valuables; therefore, we slept soundly.

One object of our trip was to secure, if possible, speci-
mens of trout from Alida Lake at the head of the fiord.
These were especially wanted for Dr. W. C. Kendall, of
the United States Fish Commission of Washington. The
Eskimos told us that the fish had already gone down the
river into salt water; consequently I feared that we were204

ETAH AND BEYOND

too late. Nevertheless in the morning we journeyed to
the head pf the fiord with fish spears, hooks and lines. One
glance at the river confirmed our fears. Not a trout was to
be seen. Quite a number were still in the lake between the
edge of the ice and the shore, but they refused bait. A
blue fox in the vicinity was as anxious to secure a specimen
as we were, and perhaps was more fortunate.

The next day we turned our attention to the million or
so dovekies swarming on the talus slope back of our tent.
The number of these little birds cannot be exaggerated*
I believe we have here one of the sights of the world, cer-
tainly sp to a lover of Nature. Under certain lights they
resemble nothing so much as a gigantic swarm of bees.
When they wheel with their white bellies toward the sun*
we have an exact reproduction of a thick snowstorm of
gigantic flakes. The volume of notes issuing simultane-
ously from so many throats resembles the roar of a water-
fall, but it is much more musical.

This bird (Alle alle) arrives in the North about May
15th, and remains until September 15th. Its breeding
ground extends from Cape Melville in Melville Bay to
Anoritok. This distance of roughly three hundred miles
is interspersed with rock debris, which has fallen from the
cliffs above, and which is fairly alive. The bird is small,
being only eight inches in length, but very chunky, weigh-
ing about four ounces. Small as they are, they have often
been a Godsend to the native when seal and walrus meat
were lacking. The bird net begins to swing in May and
continues to do so on fair days throughout the summer.
Thousands are eaten, raw and cooked, and thousands
more are cached under the rocks for the winter night. It
is but a drop taken from the bucket. The flock continues to
wheel and dip and swing low along the slope with never
a thought of those that are gone.

Fortunately the birds lay but one egg, else the waters
and cliffs of the North would be congested. Even with oneGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	205

each, this would be so if the Eskimo were the only enemy.
True, the glaucous gull, the raven, the white gyrfalcon,
and the harp seal exact their tribute, but even this is in-
finitesimal. Nature must feed them in large numbers to
unknown enemies in the sea or destroy them by disease or
violence of winter storms in the open waters south of
Baffin Bay during the winter months.

As a boy I found dovekies, emaciated and starving,
tossed up by the rollers on the back shores of Cape Cod
and conjectured as to the home of this little wanderer,
which came to us only during the stormiest days of winter,
as if needing shelter. Fishing vessels in the, winter time, re-
port them dead upon their decks on the stormy Georges
and other cod banks. Old Ocean, in her angriest moods,
undoubtedly is this bird's chief enemy, killing an incred-
ible number each winter.

With the Eskimos we visited the cliffs and watched
Kah-ko-tchee'a swing the dip net into the flocks as the
birds swept over his head. Twice he caught two with one
sweep; many he knocked out of the flock into the rocks
to be scrambled for by the children, who were busy search-
ing and reaching for eggs.

Overhead the big white burgomasters sailed back and
forth along the face of a thousand-foot cliff as if a bit re-
sentful of rivals in the field. The whole fiord, bathed in
warm bright sunlight, vibrated with the whirring of wings,
the increasing and diminishing musical note Of myriads
of birds mingling with the sound of falling waters and the
happy laughter of Eskimo children. Summer ha,d come,
and was witnessing again the reawakening of the North
from its deep sleep of cold and darkness. Each year these
native children have gathered here on these same rocky
slopes, confident that Nature would not forget them and
would furnish an abundance. May she always fulfill their
trust!

In the evening, as we sat about our tent talking of the206

ETAH AND BEYOND

incidents of the day, two strange dogs appeared in camp,
each with his trace wound carefully about his neck. One
was instantly recognized as belonging to Oo-dee, the son
of We-we, and the other that of Koo-la-tinah, both now
living at Ig-loo-da-houny, fifty miles distant across the ice
cap of Prudhoe Land. Oo-dee had promised his mother
that he would come to Etah to help her. We started at
once along the ice foot toward the glacier, knowing that
the men, upon their arrival at Alida Lake, had slipped
their dogs and were walking toward our camp.

We soon met Oo-dee and his wife, both with their tump
lines and heavy packs. Oo-dee had borrowed one of
Koo-la-tinah's dogs; hence our conclusion that both men
had arrived. Oo-dee was plainly tired with his long trip
over the ice cap, but the young wife, fine-looking and
straight as an Indian, was hardly breathing with her ex-
ertions. It was hard for me to recognize in this woman
the little girl I had known so well eleven years before. Her
inherited qualities were very apparent. Her mother,
Nelle-ka-tee-a, the 'Amazon,' was the largest and strongest
woman in the tribe. We-we was now happy. Her real
support, her only son, had arrived.

So we must, although we did not relish the task, get our
equipment back to our boat. Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa and
Kah-ko-tchee'a thought it could not be done on the sea
ice without wetting everything, and suggested that we
carry it along the ice foot for a distance of two miles — a
disheartening proposal. Robinson and I both had hip
rubber boots; therefore we preferred the dogs and sledge
and the harbor route. There were times when it did seem
impossible, but we finally reached Provision Point and
there traveled along the ice foot to the dory.

We placed the sledge on the land, where it would remain
until fall, wound the traces around the necks of the dogs,
and started them toward home, and with two pairs of oars
were off for Littleton Island. Rounding Sunrise Point, weGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	207

set the sail and were soon picking up our egg cache on
Eider Duck Island. We rounded the northeast end of
Littleton Island and camped for the night, with the ducks
whirring over our heads and a stream of little ones led by
their mothers going down off the island to the ice foot and
thence into the sea.

I watched one family of six. The tide was low. The ice
foot was seven feet above the shore rocks. How would she
get her chicks into the water? She flew into the sea,
turned and began to call. The little ones lined up like so
many soldiers, hesitated for some minutes, for that was a
fearful leap. They hopped off into the air and trusted that
mother was right. Five reappeared from under the ice
foot and swam proudly off behind their parent. Where was
the sixth? I hastened down from the tent, walked along
in under the overhanging ice shelf, and found what I ex-
I pected, a downy dead chick, soft and warm. The little
; fellow lay on his back with a broken neck. He had at-
tempted the jump in obedience to his mother's call and
had failed. That five had succeeded was the marvelous
thing.

One family of three within a few feet of our tent door
scurried for sheltering cracks Upon our arrival and lay flat
upon the rock with outstretched necks feigning death.
Before we left camp the next morning they were pets.
They followed at our call, snuggled in our laps, against our
breasts, and perched upon our forearms. As we sailed
away we could hear their cry and saw them vainly en-
deavoring to follow us along the shore. I hope that their
mother found them.

Upon our right hand was Polaris Beach, where the U.S.S.
Polaris was beached in 1872 in a sinking condition follow-
ing a bad squeeze off Littleton Island. The ship was aban-
doned and later drifted from her position and sank between
Littleton Island and the mainland. The men constructed
a dwelling-house from parts of the ship, lived here during£08

ETAH AND BEYOND

the winter, built two boats in the spring and retreated
south. We landed to see what might remain after fifty-
one years. The site of the house was littered with bits of
wood, coal, glass, nails, screws, door locks, ringbolts, and
mast fittings. One brass door button alone was marked
'U.S. Navy 1870/ I had previously picked up many relics
here marked 4Washington Navy Yard, 1870/ We mar-
veled at the state of preservation of what was left after so
many years, and especially at the lack of rust, a testi-
monial to the dryness of Arctic air.

Kane Basin was breaking up. Large fields of ice were
working down past Cairn Point and Cape Sabine and were
even threatening to cut us off from the ship. We worked
through the edge of the pack to Gape Hatherton and on
into open water, pulling against a strong wind and through
several herds of walrus. As we approached the entrance of
Refuge Harbor, we noted that every prominent point was
surmounted with a chaotic mass of broken floe ice. It was
plainly evident that there had been a tremendous pressure
here during our absence. When thousands of tons of ice
are forced over the ice foot and some forty feet into the air,
it is not difficult to understand how a puny little ship is
crushed fiat. This eternal conflict between the ice pack
and the Northern rocky shores must result in a tremendous
abrasion through the centuries. Nowhere as in the North is
it so evident that the land is giving way to the sea. The
sea ice is wearing away the coast line; the glaciers are
abrading the valleys and cutting off the tops of the hills;
freezing water and the sun's rays are cracking off the face
of cliffs — all going into the sea. What will be the result?
Can old Earth keep its head above water? Old Ocean is
plenty large enough and deep enough to hold all and per-
haps in distant aeons will. Fish will come into their own
again! But we are actually astounded by the fact that the
total amount carried to the sea each year from the United
States is approximately 210,000,000 tons of dissolvedGLORIOUS SPRING DAYS	209

matter and 513,000,000 tons of suspended matter! The
Mississippi alone carries to the sea annually 113,000,000
tons!

As we walked into the harbor we noticed that the Bow-
doin was turned partly around indicating that she had
broken out of her ice cradle after her imprisonment of
three hundred and seven days. But she was by no means
free yet. The harbor was still covered with ice, and there
yet remained a quarter of a mile between her and open
water.

Although there are statements in various books to the
effect that salt-water ice freezes in the North to a thick-
ness of nine and ten feet, our own observations at Etah and
Refuge Harbor for five years have shown that never has
there been a thickness of more than six. It is true that our
temperatures were not so low as have been reported from
the Hudson Bay district. Thickness of ice depends upon
temperature, upon the thickness of its protective blanket
of snow, upon prevailing winds, and upon rate of tidal
movement or current below. In fact, there are several
places to my knowledge, even at the heads of bays, where
the sea water never freezes and other places where it
seldom does.

A ship freezes in at her water line, The ice freezes down-
ward. With the return of spring the ice melts from the top,
but very little, if any, from the bottom, owing to the fact
that the temperature remains constant at about 29.2° F.
The interesting result follows that a.s warm days come we
find our home rising above the level of the harbor ice. If
ice continued to freeze and the summers were not warm
enough to melt the ice, eventually the ship would rest on
top of the ice and thus be free of all pressure. Some years
ago, in fact, a well-known explorer advanced this theory
in connection with a proposed drift across the Polar Sea.
It was a theory that would not have been substantiated;
for even in the Polar Sea a ship melts out each year and210

ETAH AND BEYOND

settles down to her water line. This is due to heat radi-
ated from the body of the ship and also reflected from her
sides.

To this latter result may be attributed the hastening
of the disappearance of harbor, bay, and fiord ice. Heat
reflected from the hillsides and shore line and ice foot
causes rapid melting of all ice contiguous to the land, and
so diminishes the area of the surface ice that it floats away
on the high tide. This one-year ice never reaches the South.
It is so honeycombed and thin that it easily breaks up
with pressure or swell. The most troublesome ice for the
navigator has its origin in the Polar Sea, and is the result
of several winters' freezing, augmented by annual snow-
falls, ultimately attaining a thickness of thirty and forty
feet!

There are bays in the Far North also from which the
ice goes out only under most exceptional conditions,
possibly not oftener than once in ten years. Such present
the appearance of a rolling country — a succession of blue
icy hillocks. The ice of Smith Bay, Markham Fiord,
James Ross Bay, Disraeli Bay, and Flagler Fiord is of this
character. When finally released, such a sheet is a real
menace, for it is hard and flinty in character, low-lying on
the water, and at night in low latitudes is difficult to detect.
With the increase in the number of active glaciers in the
North, ice navigation in those waters will present more
serious difficulties in the future.CHAPTER XIV

BREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS

With out seventy dogs to feed it was necessary to keep
after meat, either seal or walrus. Jaynes, with a few of the
Eskimos, had succeeded in killing several from the small
steel motor boat. The exhaust from the engine did not
seem to alarm them as one would naturally suppose. On
July 14th, our flotilla, consisting of the motor boat, a
dory, and two kayaks, left for Cape Hatherton on a walrus
hunt. All through the summer, herds frequent the shoal
ground between the Cape and the mainland for the clams
which are to be found here. Two clams, known to science
as Saxicava truncata and Saxicava rugosa, constitute their
principal food. Although we have found in their stomachs
pieces of sealmeat and sealskin, it is difficult to understand
from a study of the mouth how a walrus could eat seal if he
should ever succeed in capturing one.

We found a good-sized herd near the Cape feeding upon
the bottom, appearing and reappearing at intervals of
eight and nine minutes. In attempting to encircle them in
order to have the sun at our backs for pictures, we started
them off shore, breaking the herd into three parts. It did
not seem possible that the little Elto motor, pushing one
boat and pulling another and two kayaks, could ever over-
take them. Jaynes, however, was loyal to his engine and
suggested that we keep at it.

Walrus swim at about six and a half to seven miles an
hour. Those in our herd were apparently doing their best
with white water about their necks and frightened back-
ward glances. At times we lost and then again we gained a
bit. Noo'ka-ping'wa, becoming impatient at our slow
progress, decided to try his kayak. To my astonishment212

ETAH AND BEYOND

he proceeded to get into his frail craft, with our engine at
full speed, and motioned for us to cast off! Nothing could
have been easier. He shot astern in perfect safety, grasped
his paddle, and passed us! When the walrus emerged, he
dug furiously in the water with his paddle, seemed to shoot
up almost onto their backs, threw his harpoon, and —
missed! We passed him breathing hard and with his dark
brown face glistening with sweat.

We persisted in the chase. Each time the walrus ap-
peared at the surface, the Eskimos shouted and shot their
rifles to frighten them down, giving them no time to
breathe, and thus quickly tiring them. They were now
within range. E-took'a-shoo, in spite of the vibrations of
our motor boat, shot one dead through the head. Luckily
he floated. They seldom do unless the head is knocked
under water, thus retaining the air in the lungs. As we
shot by, Jaynes reversed the engine, giving E-took'a-shoo
the fractional part of a second to grasp his harpoon from
the seat and hurl it across the bow of our dory lashed to
the side of the motor boat—good work on the part of both.

We tossed the inflated sealskin float into the water and
started on after a second, wounded by Ki-wee'a. Within
a few minutes the motor placed E-took'a-shoo within
throwing distance. We nOw had two. Picking up the float,
we allowed the walrus to tow us for some distance, when
finally two of the Eskimos jumped onto a pan of ice and
played hinl as a fisherman would his salmon. Twice the
walrus turned deliberately and endeavored to get upon the
pan, evidently preferring a mix-up to a running fight. I
was curious to know what would happen if he did get on
the pan. From what I have seen, I should judge a walrus
to be incapable of a quick motion of any kind out of his
natural element -— water. Given a twenty-foot pan of ice
a man should be able to keep clear of the most active
walrus.

When the Eskimos had killed the animal, they chippedBREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS 213

holes in the ice and cut slits in his neck. Through these
they rove their rawhide lines making a double purchase,
and easily pulled the sixteen-hundred-pound animal out
of the water onto the surface of the pan, where it was cut
into pieces convenient for handling and caching.

We now repaired to Cape Ilatherton, where each
Eskimo constructed his cache for a projected bear hunt
the following spring, when walrus meat is taken on their
sledges for dog meat. I was interested in finding here one
of our opened pemmican tins and an empty biscuit box of
our expedition of ten years ago, a reminder that some of
my men had camped here in their travels.

Up to this time Smith Sound had been free of ice. One
might easily have crossed to Cape Sabine in a dory or even
in an Eskimo kayak along the edge of the fast ice of Kane
Basin, which is locked in by the converging of the shores
of Smith Sound. The ice now began to break up and drift
south in great sheets, a constant menace whenever we
ventured forth in small boats.

On the 17th, E-took'a-shoo, Bromfield, and I rowed to
Anoritok in our dory in open water, but upon returning
our way was intercepted at Cairn Point by a mass of re-
volving pans and sludge. Since a high overhanging ice foot
prevented a landing with the dory, we determined to go
over it, which we did by a series of rushes, fearing a rafting
against the Point which would result in a loss of our best
boat.

The next day, under the influence of a southerly wind,
ice was driving rapidly to the north. At night scarcely a
drop of water could be seen. Our way home was completely
covered. On the 19th, the ice had driven north and west
with no addition from the south in spite of a strong
southerly wind, which forced me to the conclusion that
there could be no ice in Baffin Bay, wonderful to relate.
It was evidently an open year, such as occurs possibly but
once in ten!214

ETAH AND BEYOND

I was anxious now to take advantage of this and pro-
ceeded at once to get the Bowdoin out of her winter
quarters. It continued to blow hard from the south, as in
fact it had done nearly all of July. On the 22d we sawed
out a large section of the harbor ice, which was two feet in
thickness, and pulled the Bowdoin nearly up to her large
anchor. On the 23d it alternately rained and snowed all
day, with terrific squalls that swept waterfalls backward
and upward resembling a column of smoke or steam from
a volcano." At sight of this phenomenon we were at first
thoroughly mystified and very much excited. Even our
Eskimos, who could give no explanation of this strange
sight, feared that something awful was about to happen.
Finally it dawned upon McCue that the ascending column
was spray blown by the wind!

For the next five days we pushed rafts of ice out of the
channel alongshore by which we hoped to escape — ice
which had been naturally broken by the pressure of the
harbor ice against the land.

On the 29th, we went out for our last walrus hunt in our
small motor boat, hoping to secure some 'close-ups' of the
herd. We got them! One large female came right aboard,
hooking her two tusks oyer the rail within the three-foot
limit of the lens and spitting blood into the camera case!

After killing two, as many as our little boat could con-
veniently tow, we decided to tie them to a large iceberg and
call for them later in the Bowdoin.

At seven o'clock all tents were down and Eskimos and
dogs aboard. At nine we left our anchorage, and pro-
ceeded cautiously around the edge of the harbor ice.
Within a hundred yards we were aground. We were afloat,
however, within a few minutes on the rising water. Under
the influence of a southerly wind the harbor sheet of ice
was now pressing against the northern shore. Could we
get by? With McCue in the rigging to note the depth of
water and with me at the wheel and in reach of the engine-BREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS 215

room bells, we proceeded cautiously along the edge of the
ice.

In attempting to skin by a projecting point of ice, we
grounded with the edge of the harbor ice scraping our
quarter. Soundings for'ard and aft indicated plenty of
water. The vessel was hung up amidships. We tried va-
rious devices to free her from the rock, but all to no pur-
pose. She had grounded on the tip-top high water, which
was now falling and would continue to do so for about nine
feet, which meant that she would be 'high and dry' in six
hours. If she was on a rock, then she might fall over on
her side to such an angle that she would not float, but
would fill with the rising of the tide. If her keel was in a
crack in the rock — and everything pointed to that con-
clusion — when she keeled over she would twist her keel
completely out of her. These were anxious moments for
me, responsible as I was for the safety of my seven men
three thousand miles from home and with insufficient food
for another winter.

We promptly ran masthead tackles to the shore and
harbor ice from both starboard and port sides in an at-
tempt to keep the Bowdoin upon an even keel. This was
an especially difficult task, since on the port side we were
attached to a floating object, the harbor sheet, which was
continually changing its position laterally, on account of
the current, and vertically being affected by the falling
water.

With a level on the after cabin house I anxiously
watched the bubble slowly shifting as the water fell away,
the bow ever rising higher and the stern sinking lower. I
expected at any moment to feel the tremble of a ship
about to be launched and see the Bowdoin slip backwards
into deep water. The rock supporting the keel was now
bare. With McCue I had already made an examination
of the injury done and was standing directly aft on the ice
lining up the masts for the angle of the keel, when we216

ETAH AND BEYOND

heard a faint snap and realized that she had already
started to keel off shore into deep water.

The men below were aware of the danger and came
running up on deck. Lewis, our cook, a man of sixty
years of age, and Bromfield, our Labrador interpreter,
with a crippled hand in a sling, ha,d just lowered them-
selves over the port quarter to the surface of the harbor
ice beside me when with a crash the Bowdoin fell on her
side, burying her whole lee rail beneath the water. The
air for the moment seemed to be filled with debris of every
description — buckets, boxes, skins, tent-poles, oars, bar-
rels, clothing, and men scaling like flying squirrels.

Robinson had just emerged from the after companion-
way when the Bowdoin started. He made a wild grab at
the binnacle as he shot by, missed it, and made a flying
dive over the rail into the icy water. Jaynes was standing
on the starboard or high side. He declared that the ship
left him in the air, and there was nothing to do but fall,
which he did nearly to the bottom! Mix and Goddard
threw their long legs over the rail and clutched as a bronco
buster would his steed.

Both swimmers made excellent time across their respec-
tive pools, Robinson using a combination breast trudgeon
stroke which lifted him high out of water with each grab.
He was taking no chances of the ship falling on his back!
Jaynes knew that he was safe, but the water was a bit
cold — two degrees below freezing.

With the men safe, we began salvage operations, rush-
ing two boats to the partly submerged deck and feverishly
transporting to the harbor ice everything in sight and
much even from below decks. Every pound removed
would be so much less for the Bowdoin to lift on the rising
water.

Our cabins were a sight to behold! Books, ink-bottles,
cameras, ledgers, pencils, clothing, bottles, field-glasses,
stuffed birds, eggs, rifles, chewing-gum, candy, talking-BREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS 317

machines — all a confused jumble! An earthquake need
not have been envious of results. To go below made one
fairly seasick. Our sense of balance was all askew. Hang-
ing objects stood out straight in the air with nothing to
support them. Our companions were certainly unreal.
How could they stand that way without falling! We were
glad to get out onto the level ice again.

Would the Bowdoin rise? that was the very important
question. Some of my best men declared she wouldn't.
In falling the ship had broken a plank oil the port side,
which increased the seriousness of the situation. Knowing
how easily she had attained an even keel in Baffin Land
two years before, I felt confident that she would do so
again. As a wise precaution, however, we closed all port-
holes tightly and calked the doors of our after companion-
way.

On the flood tide every eye watched the water creep up
the side of the Bowdoin, into the scuppers and over the
rail and up the deck a few inches, and then stop! The
Bowdoin was rising and continued to do so until she looked
Us again square in the face, as much as to say, 'Here I am
ready for business, regardless of the hole in my stomach!'

Relieved of such a large part of her load, she would have
come off on the next high tide had it attained the same
height as the night before. Unfortunately it failed to do
this by at least eighteen inches. We were there for another
twelve hours! Fearing another puncture, I decided to
keel the Bowdoin toward the shore, resting her bilge on a
bed of rocks revealed by the previous low water. The
angle of heel was such on the ebb tide that we were very
comfortable on board, being able even to cook and eat in
our forecastle, which was impossible the day before.

At the moment when we were feeling very secure in our
position and happy in the thought that no further damage
could be done, she slipped and fell several feet into a new
bed, breaking two more planks. Knowing how she was218

ETAH AND BEYOND

built, her bottom a solid bed of cement, and also the ca-
pacity of her two big pumps, I felt she was still a good ship.

On the next high water she gently floated off herself, as
if saying, 'Let's go home.'

In two hours we were reloaded and ready for another
trial the following day. On the following low water I made
a minute examination of every step of our journey to the
mouth of the harbor, noting the exact location of every
shoal and rock. Engine power alone was risky, since sharp
corners could be turned more gently and more cautiously
by warping. With bow and stern lines in charge of Robin-
son and Goddard, assisted by our four Eskimos, the
Bowdoin turned all corners nicely and reached the harbor
mouth in twenty minutes.

As we were loading on the last few of our seventy
dogs, the evil spirit of the North decided that we were
having too easy a time. It closed the door and barred our
only exit with a gigantic square Of ice — some 9,300,000
pounds, a trifle too heavy to allow the Bowdoin to nose her
way out, especially against wind and sea. This door fitted
so nicely that an Eskimo kayak could not have squeezed
through.

Put on a record, sing something, and think of other
things! This we did, but it did not start the door. Here
we were looking like a load of hay with our eleven Es-
kimos, their sledges, their kayaks, all their personal
belongings, and seventy dogs on deck, all ready to go, but
there was nowhere to go!

In the olden days they sawed ships out of winter
quarters. No sooner thought of than attempted. With the
four Eskimos I examined the harbor ice on one side of
the 'door.' By sawing through a neck for some fifty feet
I decided that it might be done. We would not saw com-
pletely through, for the door would then fill the aperture
instantly, but, leaving it partly attached, I would then buck
it with the Bowdoin, crack the neck, and break out intoBREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS 219

open water before the heavy mass swung into the opening.

Within two hours our task was completed and we were
ready for the trial. Calling out to Robinson to let go our
iee anchor and to clamber aboard as we struck the neck,
I pulled the bell leading to the engine-room. How agoniz-
ingly slow and how pitifully weak she seemed as she limped
ahead under only two cylinders! She struck and stopped,
but did as we expected — she cracked the neck. As I was
about to reverse and ram it again, I noticed the crack
slowly widening and felt the Bowdoin trembling, and I
knew then she was beginning to get right down to business.
Not a word was spoken as each man lined up two objects
on the shore and noted results. We were certainly making
headway ! Several heavy pans blocked our exit. These the
Bowdoin gently brushed aside, and within fifteen minutes
stuck her steel-shod nose into a choppy blue head sea.
We were free, having been imprisoned for three hundred
and twenty days!

Upon any less important occasion we should have an-
chored in Wiscasset Cove, under the lee of the land, for
it was blowing a gale from the southward, but like a colt
out to a first green pasture in the spring we raced for the
open and headed south for Etah.

We found our lady friends plainly tent-dwellers and not
sailors. They soon lost what the cook had given them a
few hours before. I was amused to see one of our Eskimos
tying a tight rope around his waist — his theory, un-
doubtedly original, of a cure for seasickness. Certainly
it was as good as many others. He was free of sickness,
anyway, and gave credit to the rope.

At five-thirty in the morning we anchored in Foulke
Fiord in front of the Eskimo encampment. All of our
Eskimos landed immediately to get and receive the news
and to feast upon little auks which nest here in millions.
The next evening, August 2d, We were away, adding to
our heterogeneous deckload two more Eskimos, ten more220	ETAH AND BEYOND

dogs, and three live white gyrfalcons. There was still room
at the masthead!

At three-fifteen on the morning of the 3d, we arrived at
Nerky, where we landed one Eskimo family and fourteen
dogs. From here we headed across Murchison Sound for
the north end of Herbert Island to return a borrowed dog
and see old friends of 1913-17. Here we found a very
large settlement with a number of children, all very
anxious 'to go to the movies' on board the Bowdoin.
Asking Robinson to give them a pleasant evening, I left
for Kah-na with Jaynes in our small motor boat after
some Eskimo clothing ordered during the winter.

To my surprise this settlement, deserted for several
years, was even larger than that on Herbert Island.
There were eight tents in all with an average of four in
each. Our first surprise was to be greeted on the beach by
women and children only. The men were all away hunting
white whales, of which they had already killed ten. The
congregation here was really the prospective church parish.
All were keenly interested in the plan of having a building
in which to worship.

After distributing candy to the children, soap, wash-
cloths, combs, and needles to the women, and leaving
tobacco for the men, we were away, chugging back across
the bay to the Bowdoin. We arrived on board a little
after midnight, to learn that some of the motion-picture
audience had been seasick and compelled to leave before
the show was over!

Koo-e-tig'e-to, one of my companions on the Ellesmere
Land trip, decided to leave us here. He was to be married.,
He had often told Us of his prospective bride, and had as
often confided his fears that a rival youth had 'stolen' her.
I went ashore with him to learn his fate. He had declared
that if he didn't get his sweetheart he would do something
desperate — he would even go to America! We found her
single, blushing, and very coy and willing. I gave him a1

THE BOWDOIN AGROUNDNEST OF THE BRANT

NEST OF THE RED-THROATED LOONBREAKING OUT OF WINTER QUARTERS 221

tent and wished him luck — the marriage ceremony, simple
enough for any one. When we left the island, he was pad-
dling around in a new kayak alternately dipping and wav-
ing a tin plate, one of his wedding gifts, which he was using
for a paddle. The future looked long and bright for him
after one day of married life.

On the 4th, we reached Kiatak, a settlement on Nor-
thumberland Island, where we were to bid good-bye to all
our Eskimos, faithful E-took'a-shoo, genial Ivah-ko-
tchee'a, young Ki-wee'a, and their wives. Surprised at
the size of Herbert Island and Kah-na settlements, I was
astonished to find here forty people. The fact remains
that, in spite of the frightful mortality due to influenza
in 1919-20, there were more people than ever in the tribe.
They were congregating in large settlements for some
unexplained reason: possibly fright induced them to do so
during the epidemic.

These people were very enthusiastic over our motion
pictures. Some shown were of large herds of narwhal off
Kiatak, taken by us in 1915. Eskimos dead for some years
smiled at them from the screen — a new experience for all.

Our decks were now clear again. Our Eskimos had
established their new homes and were busily entertaining
visitors with incidents of their year with the white people.
I think they were really sorry to have us go. They would
certainly miss the coffee, tea, sugar, and biscuit — their
weekly ration — if not the companionship of my men. I
had paid them well for their year's work. With their new
high-powered rifles, twenty boxes of ammunition, tents,
clothing, talking-machines, and gifts too numerous to
mention, they were without doubt the wealthiest people
in the tribe. E-took'a-shoo helped even to hoist anchor.
He was the last to leave, which he did with tears in his
eyes. He had stuck to us to the last, dear old E-took'a-
shoo ! He waved until waving dots merged into the barren
hills and they were gone, probably out of our lives forever.CHAPTER XV

GOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS

With beautiful weather we proceeded down the coast to
Ak-pat, a settlement inside of Conical Rock, but now a
settlement with two residents only, Kood-look'to and his
wife, Ahl'na-doo'a, old friends of sixteen years' standing.
Here these giant cliffs, which guard the northern side of the
harbor, are one of the sights of the North. They are alive
with Briinnich murre, the Ark-pa of the Eskimos, a bird
known on the New England coast during midwinter
months as the ' noddy/ We remained here until the
evening of the 9th to secure a series of motion pictures of
this remarkable display of bird life.

At Cape York we encountered our first real field of drift
ice, held here by the tide and by hundreds of bergs. Rather
than encircle it, we bucked straight through for the Eskimo
settlement at Bushnan Island, where we anchored within
a few yards of a tent. When the anchor chain rattled
through the hawse pipe and aroused the occupants from a
sound sleep, one woman bled profusely from the nose in
her excitement: this is a common occurrence among these
people.

Anowka, the resident here, volunteered to pilot us to a
neighboring settlement which I had never visited, and
which was inhabited by people whom I was very anxious
to see, perhaps for the last time. Just before our arrival,
six kayaks darted from behind an iceberg, plying their
paddles vigorously and yelling loudly, the occupants en-
deavoring to keep up with the Bowdoin. I recognized
Tung-we, one of Peary's able assistants and the largest
man in the tribe, who distinguished himself in the eyes of
the white men some years ago by the remarkable feat ofGOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 223

hurling a harpoon from one whaleboat over another into
the body of a walrus!

I slowed down the ship and permitted the Eskimos
to overtake us before we anchored in front of the village,
which consisted of five tents. The anchor had hardly
touched bottom before all the kayaks were tied up to our
quarter and the men were on board, wistfully watching
the tobacco smoke eddying from the pipes of my men.
One plug each made them all happy; so satisfied in fact
that they wanted to accompany us to the next settlement
ten miles beyond, hoping possibly for a similar issue of
rations. A few hours here was long enough for the younger
girls to net a few hundred birds and thus replenish our
meat supply.

With cabin house covered with kayaks, we went on under
power to Meteorite Island, from which Peary obtained
the three meteorites in 1895-96-97. The largest of the
three weighed about sixty tons, the largest meteorite in
the world. From these great masses of iron the Smith
Sound Eskimos obtained material for their knives for
centuries before the arrival of the whites. Another has
since been discovered weighing about six thousand pounds.
This last winter the Danes attempted to sledge it to one
of the outer islands, where it would be more accessible to a
ship, but they were unsuccessful in the attempt. Follow-
ing the breaking down of their specially constructed sledge,
they landed it safely upon the mainland some six miles
northeast of Meteorite Island.

On August 12th, we bade good-bye to our last Smith
Sound Eskimos and headed out through a maze of icebergs
into Melville Bay. Should we be as fortunate in recrossing
as we had been in crossing in 1923? I wonder if any ship
ever crossed before without a turn of the wheel! Not a
pan of ice from outside of Meteorite Island to the Horse's
Head, two hundred miles away! It seemed too good to be
true. We crossed that troublesome stretch of water in224

ETAH AND BEYOND

twenty-seven hours. The wind coming in ahead, we
anchored in a fine little harbor to await a more favorable
opportunity before proceeding southward.

On the 14th, we were away with a fair wind, passing
Tasiusak, Proven, and Upernivik, Eskimo settlements
well known to American expeditions. On the 15th, under
sail alone, we logged nine and a quarter miles an hour,
running from Upernivik to the entrance of the Vaigat,
through which I planned to pass. A head wind and tide
threatened here to consume so large a portion of our pre-
cious oil supply that we swung the Bowdoin off down the
west coast of Disco Island for Godhavn, the Lievely of the
English whalemen, which we reached at 3.30 p.m. on the
16th, our first port in civilization for more than a year.

The Government officials, upon learning that we were
from the North, waived their demands for a bill of health
and granted us the liberty of the capital, an unusual
courtesy to a foreign ship without a special permit from
the Danish Government. This we really had, but as it
happened no chief inspector of any district or Koloni-
bystyrer of any capital had been notified, thus we were in
the embarrassing position of an intruder.

I called upon Chief Inspector Lindow the next day and
explained as well as I could my object in coming to Green-
land and the nature of our scientific work for the Carnegie
Institution of Washington, the results of which go to all
nations and are of especial benefit to the Danish nation.
Mr. Lindow, whom I first met seven years ago, welcomed
us heartily to the settlement and did everything possible
to make our two days' sojourn a memorable one, Mrs.
Lindow even offering us fresh radishes from her garden.

With very few exceptions I have always found the
Danes unfailingly courteous and very likable. If the whole
nation is to be judged by the character of the Danish
officials in Greenland, then we as Americans have much
to learn about hospitality to strangers.THE BOWDOIN IN THE HARBOR OF GODHAVNA WHALE-BONE GATEWAY
Captain MacMillan and Mate RobinsonGOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 225

Godhavn, or 'good harbor/ is rightly named. Rarely
could a ship find a better refuge. Easy of entrance and
secure from winds in any direction, one can readily ap-
preciate its historical importance. Known as the English
port of Lievly it has sheltered the Dundee whaling fleet
for a century. The old whaler's lookout still stands, its
frame constructed of the massive jaw bones of the right or
Greenland bowhead whale. Hundreds of seamen's names
are written and carved within, some dating back to 1811.
Still pointing seaward is the rusty cannon, from the mouth
of which boomed the announcement to the fleet anchored
in the harbor below that a whale was in sight.

As I looked at the harbor mouth I could see Dr. Elisha
Kent Kane and his men rowing out in the ice-battered
Faith, flying the Stars and Stripes, to meet the relief
squadron of Captain Hartstene — a memorable event in
Arctic history. 'Presently we were alongside. An officer,
whom I shall ever remember as a cherished friend, Captain
Hartstene, hailed a little man in a ragged flannel shirt,64 Is
that Dr. Kane?" and with the " Yes!" that followed, the
rigging was manned by our countrymen and cheers wel-
comed us back to the social world of love which they
represented.'

Here Dr. Hayes called on his way south in 1861. Here
Charles Francis Hall bade good-bye to his supporting
ship, the U.S.S. Congress, in 1871. Greely called here in
1881 and purchased twelve dogs for his Northern work.
Here Lieutenant Colwell arrived in 1883 after that re-
markable trip of eight hundred miles from Cape Sabine,
following the sinking of the Proteus. The next year the
Greely relief squadron, the Bear, Thetis, Alert, and Loch
Garry, all assembled here in a concerted effort to rescue
Greely and his men. And to this port they returned with
the living and the dead. Here Elison died, and here
Christiansen was buried. Here Peary began his notable
work in 1886, when he came North to make a reconnais-226

ETAH AND BEYOND

sance of the Greenland ice cap. On the summit of the high
hills east of the snug little harbor we could see his first
Northern cairn built in 1891, the first of many in that great
Northern waste stretching toward the Pole.

The whole place fairly bristled historically. Long iso-
lated from the world during the winter months, it was to
be no longer so. The walls of a new building were being
erected, one which will enact an important part in the
lives of this Northern settlement — a new wireless station,
to connect with two others farther south, one at Godthaab
and one at Julianehaab. The latter will convey the mes-
sages to Iceland and thence on to Copenhagen, Denmark.
Wireless has conquered the North.

On Sunday night, August 17th, we communicated by
wireless with a Norwegian whaler lying thirty miles off the
Whale Fish Islands, our first successful attempt to reach
some one for six months. Plainly the Norwegians were
mystified as to our identity and our object, inquiring if we
were catching whales!

The American fleet at Ivig-tut, awaiting the hydro-
aeroplanes in their round-the-world flight,1 were heard re-
peatedly giving information about the weather and ad-
vising as to when the attempt should be made to fly from !
Reykjavik, Iceland, to Ivig-tut.

On Tuesday, the 19th, we ran over to Egedesminde with
the hope of replenishing our oil supply, which was getting
dangerously low for our long run to Labrador. We could,
however, secure only four barrels, or about two hundred
gallons, a two and a half days' supply. Rushing this on
board we were away at seven-thirty in the evening, down
through the southwest run for the open sea which I was
anxious to make before dark.

A beautiful sunset over the waters of Baffin Bay gave
promise of fair weather on the morrow. In this, however,
we were disappointed. Head wind, rain, and a rough sea

1 See The First World Flight* Houghton Mifflin Company.GOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 227

were our lot, the latter especially trying, since it exacted a
heavy toll from our oil tanks. I decided to run for shelter
and await better weather.

The Greenland coast is a mass of small islands, reefs,
and sunken rocks, to navigate which one must exercise
extreme caution, especially when large-scale charts are
lacking. Such are denied all ships except those in the Gov-
ernment employ. We picked our way past and between
breaking reefs, gingerly past two beacons, and ran up into
a fiord which I judged by our dead reckoning must be
Kangerdluarssuk. Here in a small bight we anchored in
three fathoms, secure from breaking waves and strong
head winds. The weather of Thursday, the next day,
justified our action — rain and wind as we expected.

In the morning an ascending column of smoke from the
summit of a hill to the north notified us of the presence of
Eskimos and of their desire to communicate with the ship.
Goddard and Mix rowed away to hunt them up and to
bring back information in regard to the fishing station
which we presumed to be there. The men returned in a
few hours with gome fine sea trout, similar to those caught
in the bays of Labrador. They had found a full-bearded
Eskimo, his mother, his wife, and six children all engaged in
trapping trout in a, small stream issuing from a lake. Learn-
ing that the Eskimo was to attend to his fish trap in the
evening, I ran over in the motor boat to see the operation.
At this time of year the fish are evidently returning from
the sea to their winter homes in fresh water. The stream
had been dammed with rocks with the exception of two
small runways, which led into two netted boxes similar to
our lobster traps. Out of these the Eskimo pulled two
magnificent trout, weighing respectively five and a half
and six and a half pounds. He then waded down the stream
pounding the water with a stout pole and driving the fish
which had not entered the boxes back into an ever-narrow-
ing runway leading into a net bag, out of which he dumped228

ETAH AND BEYOND

two dozen more, a poor cateh he declared! Those that
escaped here encountered four nets stretched across the
mouth of the stream.

It is a question how far north the Atlantic salmon
(Salmo solar) goes. I learned from this Eskimo half-breed
that they are certainly found here, some thirty miles
north of the Arctic Circle, but they are not caught until
the first of September; But one can well afford to be
patient, since many reach a weight of forty and even
fifty pounds!

The next day the weather was still unfavorable; there-
fore, I determined to find Holstenborg in the dory. This
settlement I judged to be about five miles to the south. A
very pleasant row along the shore just outside of the break-
ing surf brought me in sight of a Danish flag at half-mast,
a very old dismantled brig and a new bluff-bowed Danish
schooner anchored at the entrance of a small harbor. As I
rounded the stern of the old moss-covered hulk, I was as-
tounded beyond measure at the name 'Peru.' Could it be
possible that this was what was left of the Royal Green-
land Trading Company's famous brig, the same one that
lay in the harbor of Egedesminde thirty-six years ago,
awaiting the arrival of Nansen, who was then Crossing the
great Greenland ice cap ! Once a proud ship, now a coal
bin and oil tank!

Two or three boys rowed out to meet me. On recogniz-
ing an American dory, they yelled repeatedly 'America!
America!' at the top of their voices. I was almost be-
wildered at the confusion that followed. Doors flew open
and people poured out and down the hill in a stream to the
dock, 'America! America!' predominating amid a jargon
of Danish and Eskimo. X afterwards learned that the
Bowdoin had been sighted at anchor the day before and was
supposed to be a Norwegian fisherman. The Norwegians
are feared and disliked for some unlearned reason, possibly
because of rivalry in the fishing interests. The AmericansGOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 229

are admired and respected and have long frequented the
coast in the pursuit of halibut.

The Assistant Kolonibystyrer, Mr. H. Blicher Neilsen,
met me at the head of the dock and invited me to his home.
Incidentally he wished to meet some one who could talk
English and thereby learn who I was and what my object
might be. We met him in the public square, a short, white-
haired, ruddy-complexioned Dane by the name of Jensen,
the Fishing Master, so-called, of Holstenborg. Having
sailed out of Gloucester, Massachusetts, for several years,
he could talk good English, which I was glad to substitute
for my poor Eskimo. My identity and mission learned
and conveyed to Mr. Neilsen, I was cordially welcomed,
entertainedj and dined. In fact, life here was so pleasant
and the village so attractive in its setting that I wanted my
men to enjoy it also. Learning that I intended to bring
the Bowdoin to the harbor, Mr. Neilsen was good enough
to take me back in his power boat and have one of his
Eskimos pilot us to the settlement.

While we were drinking our coffee and smoking Danish
cigars, an energetic-looking officer entered the room wear-
ing the gold sleeve stripes, brass buttons, and insignia of
the royal service. He was Mr. Balle, chief officer of the
Hans Egede, at present relieved from duty on the ship and
detailed to bring the new schooner at anchor in the harbor
from Copenhagen to Holstenborg, which he did in twenty-
seven days.

Mr. Balle, of very attractive personality, is the brother
of the Mr. Balle, head of the University at Godthaab, He
was born in Greenland and consequently can talk Eskimo
like a native. With his knowledge of English, Danish,
and Eskimo, he was invaluable to me during my stay at
Holstenborg, trying in every possible way to make our
visit a memorable one.

Jolly, rotund Mr. Hanson was his mate. 'Every one
loves a fat man,' and we certainly did Mr. Hanson. When230

ETAH AND BEYOND

he learned that we were from near Portland, Maine, all
doubt as to our friendship disappeared, for that city had a
warm spot in his heart. With Mr. Jensen from Gloucester,
Mr. Hanson well acquainted in Portland, and the dock
covered with Banks dories stencilled 'Amesbury, Mas-
sachusetts/ home did not seem two thousand miles away.

At 5.30 p.m. the Bowdoin lay at anchor in the harbor
with the Danish flag at the fore and the American at the
main, the beginning of a very happy two days' sojourn.
A motion-picture show in the evening came as a surprise
and delight to the Danish residents and to the Eskimo
children peeping down through the for'ard hatch and
fairly hanging by their toes in the companionway. Sat-
urday was an eventful day, with an Eskimo dance in the
open court before the oldest church in Greenland, a build-
ing erected in 1757. A solo dance by one of the older
women was a rare treat, being rapturously applauded by
both natives and visitors.

The South Greerilander is without doubt the most ex-
pert kayaker in the world. I had heard much of the won-
derful skill he possesses, but I had never witnessed it. Two
men were willing to perform for our amusement and ap-
peared off the dock in their kayaks with sealskin jumpers
tied closely around their wrists and drawn about the face.
In their eagerness to get under water they were like boys in
swimming on a summer day.

Before I could get them in the finder of my motion-
picture camera, they were over and bottom up! They
made a complete revolution, re-righting their boats with a
short stroke of the paddle under water. The younger man
of the two, growing more enthusiastic, and being more
energetic, made three revolutions, catching his breath each
time as he emerged. He then dashed away at full speed, as
I thought, for home. To my surprise, with a kind of cork-
screw motion he plunged beneath the surface of the water
on one side of his kayak and reappeared on the other. HeGOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 231

next stuck the end of his paddle through a strap across the
deck, which is customarily done when both hands are em-
ployed in fishing or shooting. He capsized his kayak and
hung head down in the water for a few seconds. While in
this position he released his paddle from its fastening, gave
one short vigorous stroke, and regained his equilibrium.

All these feats were performed without letting a drop of
water into the kayak. This was done by fastening the
bottom of the sealskin coat securely about the rim of the
manhole. The opening in the hood is drawn together
tightly with rawhide thongs; the round, full, face of the
Eskimo being a more effective water-stopper than the
bony, long face of a white man.

The two men were highly elated when for their per-
formance I presented them with some new rope, shirts,
knives, and tobacco, not forgetting necklaces for their
wives and picture books for the children.

As it was now getting late in the year, we should have
sailed for home at once, but, upon learning that the really
big day was to be the next, we could not resist the temp-
tation to see it all.

So much was being done for us that we were under an
obligation to make some hospitable repayment; therefore
we invited the whole town out to the Bowdoin for a motion-
picture show. Our largest attendance heretofore had been
forty, about as many as our little forecastle could un-
comfortably accommodate, since it was built for six! We
had invited two hundred and fifty; and we knew that there
would be no polite and insincere cards of regret at having
accepted previous invitations.

Robinson decided to attempt an open-air performance
by stretching a screen between the mast and the rigging
and stationing the machine well aft on the Bowdoin.
Evidently the natives feared that our generous invitation
was bigger than our seating capacity, for boats began to
arrive at six and continued to do so until ten o'clock, when
it was finally dark enough for a reel of Path6 News.232	ETAH AND BEYOND

A picture of the Bowdoin with decks, cabin house, fore
and main gaff black with people, and alarmingly listed to
port, would have caused no little concern to the marine
insurance companies which had staked their chances upon
her safe arrival home. If any one could have recorded the
various exclamations and remarks of these Northern
natives who had never seen motion pictures, he might
have presented to the public a very interesting study of a
primitive mind. We are as we think is as true of the savage
as of the civilized.

Sunday we visited the churchyard. Formerly the port
of many an American fisherman and Scotch whaler,
Holstenborg must have witnessed the burial of at least a
few sailors. The pastor of the church accompanied us and
called my attention to certain symbols upon a headstone —
Odd Fellow and Knight of Pythias. An American!

Captain John Albert Flygore

master of Sch. Oregon
of Gloucester, Mass. U.S.A.

Born Sweden 16 Sept. 1865

We found others of interest:

Sacred to the memory of
Stewart Chaplin
of

S.S. Thetis, aged 29 years
who accidentally lost his life at sea
on the 27 day of May, 1883

Sacred to the memory of
James Watson
2nd Mate
S.S. Nova Zembla
of
Dundee
who was accidentally shot
10 April, 1888
Aged 45 years
May 31
Thy will be doneTHE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE VILLAGE OF HOLSTENBORGGROUP AT HOLSTENBOKG
Showing typical dress of half-breed women

A SCHOOL FOR THE ESKIMOSGOOD-BYE TO NORTHERN FRIENDS 233

A wooden slab pathetic in its roughness and sentiment
was of especial interest:

In memory of Orston Arlington
who died on board the Will & Anne of
Whitby, Captain Terry
April 24, 1830
Aged 15 years

Life's stormy ocean soon he crost
No more by angry billows tosst
His voyage is over, he's anchored here
Till Christ to judgement shall appear.CHAPTER XVI

HOMEWARD BOUND

Sunday a day of sports! Greenland is keeping step with
the world. Poor old Hans Egede, who frowned upon all
merriment in Greenland, must be sitting with bowed head
somewhere and wondering if, after all, he was right.

At 2 p.m. eight boys were on the starting-line in their
kayaks ready for the ' Go I' The course was from the dock
out around the Bowdoin and the dismantled Peru, and
back to the line. Many questioned afterwards if the men
could have beaten those boys, a heterogeneous mixture of
Eskimo, Danish, French, English, Scotch, Irish, and
American parentage — certainly a sturdy-looking lot.
The persistent belief that a half-breed is inferior in every
way to a full-blooded native does not stand the test, and is
as senseless as many another deep-rooted conviction. The
boy who won this race was clearly three quarters white.
He used his head from start to finish, avoiding the jam at
the turns, which put two out of the race, and even cutting
under the anchor chain of the old Peru to shorten his
distance! With long, easy strokes he was an easy winner,
although he was apparently inferior in strength to a few
of the others.

The voluble protests of the defeated were quite as full of
interest as the race itself — boys the world over. A gather-
ing of jockeys with their whips and seats about the judges'
stand at a country fair was my only comparison. Griev-
ances were soon forgotten and away the happy youngsters
trooped ready for the next event, a kayak race by their
daddies, seasoned hunters, and very business-like in their
sealskin half-jackets, a protection against spray.

\s Mr. Balle waved his white handkerchief and theHOMEWARD BOUND

235

eight paddles struck the water, it was plainly evident that
a real race was on. Under the impulse of vigorous strokes
the decks of the eight boats were level with the water.
There was the same confusion at the turns and a bit of
brain at the finish when the winner, although several yards
in the rear, took the most direct route to the finish line.

The rifle shoot was the event of the day. Old, middle-
aged, and young deserted the village for this important
event and thronged the path leading to the range. The
rifles were pitifully old and many of the home-loaded
cartridges failed to explode. If a man at seventy-five
yards hit the paper target, some sixteen inches long and
twelve wide, a general shout of approval burst forth from
the throng. Any one of my men would have hit it at the
first shot and every succeeding shot. The modern high-
power rifle Would have represented a fortune to these
natives, but one which no Eskimo could afford to use at
eight to ten cents a shot. When the name of the best
marksman was proclaimed, there was a burst of applause
and a rush toward the happy contestant. He was raised
high above the heads of the crowd and carried in triumph
down to the village on the shoulders of his rivals for honor,
a very generous act.

A bag race for the boys caused tremendous excitement,
a dark horse, a sweet-faced little fellow, winning handily,
smiling all the way around the course. To my surprise
every boy ran with short steps. An American boy would
have jumped the whole way, the recognized most efficient
method of winning such a race.

When the bag race for men was announced, to the sur-
prise of all, an old woman expressed her desire to enter the
contest. Her ambition was ridiculed by the spectators,
who never expected her to finish. To humor her the judges
accepted her entry. To the chagrin of the men she ran
away from them, and was at the finish line well rested when
the last straggler came tumbling home!236

ETAH AND BEYOND

Coffee, the popular Danish drink, for all in the square,
brought a memorable day to a close. Reluctantly we
planned to leave at daylight, so we bade good-bye to Mr.
Balle, a delightful fellow, to Mr. Hanson radiating good
nature, to Mr. Neilsen, who generously gave us the keys of
the city, and to Mr. Jensen who is initiating the American
method of catching halibut. Holstenborg, nestling among
the hills just north of the Arctic Circle, remains as a very
pleasant memory.

At 2.30 a.m. a step on deck announced that our pilot had
arrived. In the first gray light of the day, with the village
in deep sleep, we stole out of the harbor and out to sea,
dropping the natives well beyond the dangerous under-
water ledges. At 7 a.m. we recrossed the Arctic Circle
which we had crossed more than a year before. Naturally
our thoughts reverted to our winter home at Refuge Har-
bor and our good friends in the Far North, real Eskimos,
whom we had now left far behind.

At 9 a.m. we descried a schooner well off our starboard
bow, the first ship we had seen for a year. Since she was
bound south, was white, and had power as evidenced by
the exhaust, we concluded that it was Rasmussen's trad-
ing schooner which had left the Far North three weeks
ahead of the Bowdoin. She was out of sight astern in four
hours. The Bowdoin was making up for lost time. With
cross-bearings on Simiutak and Sukkertoppen, recognized
places, we bore away down the coast for Ball River, the
entrance to Godthaab.

Upon coming on deck in the morning at six o'clock, I
could faintly discern the coast through a fog bank. As we
had run our distance, I changed the course for the land,
to catch the beacon, which I had little chance of doing in
thick weather. At nine we were among breaking rocks star-
board and port. A sounding gave no bottom. The back
track is always a safe one and back we went out to sea,
where we sailed leisurely back and forth for an hour orA DANISH-ESKIMO GIRL OF SUKKERTOPPEN
A fine type of half-breed

ANOTHER HALF-BREED ESKIMO GIRL OF
SUKKERTOPPENA GREENLAND HARBORHOMEWARD BOUND

237

more hoping for clearing weather. Had I been sure of a
sufficient supply of oil to land us in Labrador, I should not
have hesitated a minute to square the Bowdoin away
southwest. Our object in going to Godthaab was to se-
cure, if possible, ten barrels of fuel oil.

When the wind changed to the south with a fine drizzle,
I was determined to get in somewhere for a harbor, as such
weather might continue for several days. After a careful
study of such charts as we had, it seemed that we must be
in one of two places. If the line of breakers faintly dis-
cerned through the mists were outposts of the Kitsigut
Islands, by going back, rounding, and steering east, we
had a clean run to Godthaab. I decided to go it blind and
take a chance, as one must in Arctic work. With Jaynes
at the wheel and myself in the crow's-nest, we struck in
among the breaking rocks, navigating by the color of the
water. As ledge after ledge appeared out of the mist and
islands intercepted our east course, I knew that we had
missed the hole and might strike at any moment.

It may seem strange to some that there is a zest in play-
ing a game such as we were playing and had played so
many times; but there certainly is no lack of interest when
you test your eyes, your judgment, and your experience
against such an adversary as Nature. We went on for
three miles or more, passing breaker after breaker and
island after island. When no swell was perceptible and I
was assured of a quiet night and shelter from a southerly
storm, we sought out a snug little harbor between two
islands and dropped anchor in seven fathoms. It rained
and blew hard all night from the southward, causing no
little concern to some of my men who wished we had more
sea room. Our unusually heavy anchor and our big chain,
tested, as elsewhere noted, to twenty-two thousand
pounds' breaking strength, assured me that the Bowdoin
would be right there in the morning, as indeed she was.

The storm continued throughout the day and the follow-238

ETAH AND BEYOND

ing night, with a steadily falling barometer. On Thursday
morning, however, there were signs of clearing. The fog
lifted disclosing numerous islands and breaking reefs, but
as yet nothing of the mainland could be seen. Judging
that we were eight or nine miles north of Godthaab, I
decided to put to sea and run down the coast with a view
to picking up the beacon off Ball's River, the only marker
which aids the navigator on the coast in positively identify-
ing a locality; the settlement itself may be miles away.

In three quarters of an hour we were clear of the break-
ers and skirting a line of reefs leading southward. Nothing
could be identified until a peculiar-looking black headland
emerged out of the fog, which X recognized as the Kangek.
Within a few minutes Jaynes sighted the southern beacon
at the entrance to the run. The northern, which should
have been seen first, could not be found. All points
checked so beautifully that I took the chance of the beacon
having been destroyed or blown down by the wind, and
steered the Bowdoin for the Soelskoer Rocks. If we were
right, a rock should break almost under our bow in such a
swell. From the crow's-nest I scanned every square foot
for a change in color, but could detect no difference. When
almost through the narrow pass, a wave lifted and showed
its white flag for a second and then flattened. I knew we
were right and changed the course for Godthaab, twelve
miles away.

As we were passing Kangek a boy ran alongside in his
kayak and expressed a desire to accompany us up to the
settlement. Rising and falling in the heavy swell under the
lee of the Bowdoin jogging under head sails, the lad made
several unsuccessful attempts to get out of his frail craft.
I suggested that he give up the attempt and return to the
land. He simply smiled and watched for a favorable op-
portunity, and finally slipped out of the hole. On the deck
of his kayak he had a kittiwake gull which he had secured
^ with his bird spear, and two large boneless strips of someHOMEWARD BOUND

239

kind of fish spotted like a leopard, a fish strange to aH on
board.

We could not see the village of Kangek, famous for its
expert kayakers. Approached from the sea, Godthaab, the
capital of the district, is wonderfully attractive with its
well-painted buildings — red predominating in the color
scheme —- and its backing of four noble peaks, Little and
Great Malina, Kingigtorsuak, and the Sal or Saddle. This
last has been often called the most striking peak in Green-
land. Covered with snow during the winter months it
must present a wonderful picture. Three Danish flags
snapping in the wind added a bit to the beauty of the little
settlement. Boats and kayaks dotted the waters imme-
diately in front of the harbor busily catching large cod,
halibut, and wolf-fish (Anarrhichas lupus), the last mottled
and repulsive-looking, but said to be delicious eating.

Our anchor had hardly gripped the bottom before the
Government motor boat was alongside with our new
friends of the preceding summer, Kolonibystyrer Christian
Simony and Mr. Balle, head of the University. Accom-
panying them were L. Malchow Moller, civil engineer,
whom we met at Egedesmiride, and the new Governor of
all of South Greenland, K. Honore Peterson. With this
meeting began a series of delightful entertainments where
true hospitality was shown during every minute of our
stay. We were ready to leave when we learned that the
whaling steamer had been sighted returning to the harbor.
All was excitement, since a whale meant so much to the
Royal Greenland Trading Company, and far more to the
natives, who would have all the meat after the blubber
had been stripped from the body. The Eskimos swarmed
-over to the back of the harbor, some in boats and others
over the hills, all hoping to get a mouthful of raw whale-
skin.

A nearer view of the Sonja disclosed a ' kepokak' or
humpback whale lashed alongside, its body as black as a240

ETAH AND BEYOND

boot. This species is easily distinguished by its long
pectoral fin, which reaches a length of thirteen feet. Al-
though this whale is notoriously poor in oil and as poor in
'bone/ the mother ship was glad to receive it in dearth of
other and better, and began cutting-in at once. The term
'humpback' is really a misnomer and misleading, since
this species receives its name from its low dorsal fin.

It was a stirring scene as the long strips of blubber
swung in over the rail and onto a long table beneath the
cutting-knives of the Eskimos. There a multitude of
expert hands deftly cut the black skin from the white fat
and slid the great junks along to the salters, who packed
them in strong barrels ready for the coopers, a method en-
tirely novel to our New England whalemen, who had their
brick try-works right on deck and rendered the oil at sea.
The lurid glare of the fire beneath the big kettles has often
been mistaken for a burning ship in the old days.

The natives were not too busy cutting and eating to be
unmindful of their wives, children, and sweethearts, who,
with upturned faces and appealing looks, crowded the
boats ranged along the rail. There was a steady flight of
tidbits from the cutting-table over the rail down into the
waiting mouths, for all the world like those of expectant
young birds awaiting the arrival of their parents.

Naturally we were all anxious to test the virtues of this
rubbery-looking delicacy of the Eskimos. Not all tested
it long, however. I found it to be very similar in taste to
the skin of the narwhal and white whale, but tougher in tex-
ture. Some of my men agreed with me that it does have a
certain taste of the chestnut. Boats loaded with meat and
sldn, a winter's meat supply, returned to the village.
Another whale would assure them an easy winter, too
easy, perhaps, for their own good.

A dinner at the home of the Kolonibystyrer, followed
by coffee with the Governor and his wife, completed a very
busy and happy day for Robinson, Jaynes* and myself.HOUSES OF SOUTH GREENLAND ESKIMOSA wooden interior banked with sod and rocks

Houses of a better class
TWO TYPES OF SOUTH GREENLAND HOUSESHOMEWARD BOUND

241

We tumbled into bed at 1 a.m. for a few hours' sleep before
starting for home at daylight. The first streaks of light
said 6 no5 to this — wind dead ahead and thick fog.

I began to wonder if we should reach home in time for
Thanksgiving. My anxiety was allayed temporarily upon
learning that a dance was being planned for the evening.
We were misinformed. Mr. Balle, head of the University,
explained later that Sunday really begins at six o'clock
Saturday night and terminates at six on Sunday night.
No festivities of any kind are ever held on Saturday even-
ing, which is really a preparation for the Sabbath; whereas
on Sunday night dancing may be indulged in without crit-
icism!

With the first gray streaks of dawn I called my men.
Fog or no fog we must go. And out we went down Ball's
River to the sea and pointed the Bowdoin's stubby nose
for the Labrador coast, four hundred and fifty miles away.
With fair wind and engine we raced for home, covering
two hundred and twenty miles the first day. The second,
however, paid us back — easterly wind, heavy sea, rain,
and fog. With fifty-five hours gone and our log indicating
our distance nearly run, we endeavored to pierce the
thick white blanket enwrapping us. It suddenly occurred
to me that one might look over it from our crow's-nest,
as I had done two years before at Cape Sable Light. As I
swung one leg into the barrel, two giant black peaks loomed
out of the clouds. We had arrived in Labrador, but
where? In another half-hour a massive gray cape, its shore
line white with foam, swept by within a few yards.

We swung the Bowdoin south down the coast studying
every rock, reef, and mountain-peak. There was only one
conclusion; we were at the entrance of Saglek Bay, 58° 30'
N. Lat., twenty miles north of the Moravian settlement of
Hebron. Since darkness and fog would soon be upon us
with a possible iceberg interrupting our course, I deemed
it prudent to run up into the Bay and anchor for the night.m	ETAH AND BEYOND

As I looked west into Saglek's long dark arms and recalled
the many stories of its wonders, I regretted that the sum-
mer was gone and the time too late for exploration. But
another year was coming and then ——

The slatting of the mainsail on the morning of the 3d
awoke me to a sense of up and on, although the clouds still
hung low over the hills and sea. Reluctantly we passed
Hebron and many good friends and directed our course
toward old Mugford, hidden in a fog bank to the south.
When should we see our first fishing schooner? Eagerly
we scanned every island as the fog lifted and at last were
rewarded at the sight of a sail near the Watchman. The
unfortunate fellow was bound north! A poor fish year on
the coast. At this time all schooners should be squaring
away for home with full holds. We learned later, however,
that in general fish were plentiful and that many schooners
had sailed for home loaded to the hatches. Two schooners
at the Nanook-tut were favorable signs that the fishing
interests on the Labrador were not wholly dead.

Since the islands and coasts were buried in fog and the
inside runs not safe, I decided to put out to sea and rim
down the coast during the night outside of everything. In
the morning we were in latitude 56° 15', forty-five miles
from our destination in Jack Lane's Bay. As we were mov-
ing on for the Bay, three humpback whales showed their
black backs above the water in the midst of a big shoal of
- porpoises. Both Were evidently feeding upon herring,
which formerly were very abundant upon that coast. We
followed them, at one time fairly riding upon their backs
and wondering if there was much destructive power in the
swish of their big tails. A whaling steamer would have &
reaped a harvest.

Now that nearly all of the whaling stations on the Lab-
rador are closed, it is possible that the number of whales
is increasing. In addition to the grampus and several kinds
of porpoise, there are at least seven other species of whalesHOMEWARD BOUND	243

on this coast, namely, the finback, sperm, sulphur bottom,
humpback, white whale, narwhal, and killer. The decrease
in number of whales killed from 1904 to 1907 is interesting;
one hundred and fifty-three in the former year and ninety-
four during the latter. In 1924 we understood that only
one company, that at Hawk's Harbor, was in operation.

We arrived at Bromfield's house in Jack Lane's Bay
about 1.30 p.m., all very much concerned over the fact
that no flag was flying to greet us. There was only one
interpretation — some one had died, since the last words
of Bromfield's father were, 'If anything happens at home
we will not put up the flag.' When entering the harbor I
had certainly caught the colors of a flag for a brief moment.
What did it mean? A boat put off from the shore rowed by
a small boy. As he reached the side of the ship, I anxiously
inquired, 'How's everything at home?'

'All right, sir. Father and Walter are both away. I
tried to put up the flag and broke the line.'

We were all happy for Abram, who had been very much
concerned over the poor health of his mother. We dis-
patched a power boat at once to the Hudson's Bay Post at
Davis Inlet, notifying the absent ones of our arrival and of
our intention to leave a large part of our equipment here,
since it was our intention to return to the Labrador the
following year.

On Saturday, September 6th, we were away at 4.15 a.m.
for the Moravian Mission Station at Hope,dale. When
turning into the entrance of Windy Tickle, the smoke of a
steamer was discerned issuing from behind an island near
Fanny's Harbor. The northern Labrador mail boat,
the Wren, without a doubt. Little did we think then that
she would be a total wreck before dark. We learned about
the disaster when we reached Battle Harbor a few days
later. The rocks and reefs of Labrador never fail to exact
their annual toll.

It was good again to accept the hospitality of Mr. and244

ETAH AND BEYOND

Mrs. Perritt, and more than gratifying'to extend help in a
small way. On our trip northward the preceding year we
had delivered a radio set. It had long been silent after
furnishing the Perritts with a great deal of pleasure during
the winter. Several visitors had turned the dials and had
tried in vain to bring forth even a howl. I detailed my
operator to solve the mystery, which he did in a very few
minutes. The ' ground? was imperfect. This remedied, we
left them happy and sailed south for the first wireless
station on Dunn's Island. To our disappointment there
was not a single piessage for the expedition on file. Our
friends had forgotten u§!

I was glad to get out of this miserable harbor long before
^^ybreak and vowed never to enter if again. It is an ex-
cellent place to lose a ship. With a bad rock at the entrance,
^gpther one in the center of the harbor, with hardly enough
room swing, and very poor holding ground, sleep here
i§ impossible if one thinks of his ship. I crossed it off the
list, and squared away down the coast for a fast run to
Indian Harbpr, Dr. Grenf ell's moat northern mission
statioi|. With started sheets we fairly flew around the end
of Uigoklialui|, grazed the rocky eastern end of Kidlialuit,
and headed foj? "The Rags' and old Cape Harrison, well
known to all small boys in Provincetown, years ago, for
^Jleif fathers fished and even wintered there.

An hour's run and then on the port-hand Quaker Hat
an4 Quaker Reef with picturesque Tinker Island on the
starboard. Holton Island, Coffee Island, the White Cock-
ade; round Cut-Throat-—and there is Rodney Mundy
and the Gyenfell Mission Station, a welcome sight to many
a suffering fisherman.

Away at the crack of dawn hoping to make Battle
Harbor, b|it at 7 p.M. so dark that I ran for Comfort Bight
— a ticklish bit of navigating, but good eyes and good ears
for'ard spotted the ledges, and heard the swash of the sea
on great black gpots in the sky which we knew to be cliffs.HOMEWARD BOUND

245

After anchoring in a hole as black: as ink and congratu-
lating ourselves that we were safe in Comfort Bight, we
heard the chug-chug of a motor boat. You can imagine
our surprise and humiliation upon hearing a voice in the
dark.

' Youse better come over to Comfort Bight, sir!'

'Do you mean to tell me this is not Comfort Bight?' I
fairly shot back.

'Oh, ho, sir, you is in Back Harborj— How: did jra git in?' .

Finally, after much argument and a use of the chart, he
admitted that we were in Comfort Bight, but not in his
Comfort Bight!

I may say that these hardy Labrador-Newfoundland
fishermen never use a chart, or what they call a 'sheet/
Their reasons are two, namely, hardly a man on board can
read and write, and as a youngster in our country knows
his A B C's, so these mariners know every submerged
ledge, rock, and island. This coast is their school and their
daily lessons are well learned.

Early the next afternoon we shot through the narrow
tickle into Battle Harbor and tied up to the dock. A few
minutes later the mail boat anchored just outside. Enter-
tained by my good friend Captain Burgess I can never
forget the smell of a gift of four apples, so different from the
smell of an Eskimo or of seal meat ! There are really some
things at home that we miss in the Arctic. Apples, bana-
nas, oranges, pears, plums, cherries — we yearn for them!

Promise of fair weather and fair wind induced us to sail
south on the 11th, but rain, fog, and head wind drove us
into Bonne Bay on the 12th. We remained there until the
morning of the 14th, our visitors being the local policeman
and the minister, the most important men in the town.

We always enjoy a visit to these Newfoundland ports.
Every one is so friendly and so hospitable. One boy
brought us a jar of blueberry preserves and another one a
bowl of cream! Both were so good that we promptly bought246	ETAH AND BEYOND

a gallon of milk and a half peck of blueberries. Perhaps
they knew the value of a sample.

We had an interesting experience near here the year
before. A man arrived on board the Bowdoin and in-
quired if we should like to buy some good fresh mutton.
We certainly did and ordered ten pounds for our dinner,
Eleven o'clock and no mutton. Twelve o'clock and no
man in sight; result, crackers and sardines and direful
threats as to what would happen when the mutton dealer
arrived alongside.

I happened to be strolling through the woods at four
o'clock that afternoon. Imagine my surprise upon meeting
my traveling salesman, red in face, perspiring freely, drag-
ging a sheep by the neck —- our dinner! Henceforth I shall
demand a discount upon time to catch and kill. I had
heard of 'meat on the hoof,' but this was my first experience
as an active-market buyer.

The weather still looked threatening, but after lying in
port so long, we often take chances. Head wind and rain
all day followed by thunder and lightning in the evening.
And then the wind whipped into the northwest and really
began to blow. By midnight, 'with everything on her' we
were plunging bows under, shipping sea after sea, but
going like a race-horse toward home.

Gradually the men came aft. They declared they could
not sleep; that they were being drowned out! Whereupon
I called all hands and took in the outer jib, and lowered
the mainsail. Under reduced speed the Bowdoin stopped
her submarine antics and was now lifting her nose up over
every sea, and doing her best to keep her stern above
great white crests which toppled and fell within a few feet
of the helmsman. About daylight several curled over the
rail and swept the deck.

This stretch of bad weather undoubtedly played its part
in the loss of Nutting, who sailed from Greenland in the
little Leif Ericson just one week after we did. AnythingHOMEWARD BOUND	247

can happen to a small boat in the midst of icebergs, on a
coal-black night with heavy sea, and wind blowing fifty
and sixty miles an hour. The sound of surf in the blackness
pounding against the adamant walls of an iceberg is not
the 'music of purling waters,' or a 'symphony of ocean
wave.' It is Old Ocean telling the mariner to be ever on
watch and on guard.

Over the tops of white-capped waves we descried St.
Paul's Island about nine o'clock the next morning, broad
off on the starboard bow, just where it should be. By noon
the wind had moderated to such an extent that we set the
mainsail, which hurried us along to Sydney, where we
dropped anchor at six-thirty, to be met by the Mayor, who
wanted to entertain us, by a representative of the Rotary
Club, who wanted me to speak at noon, and by several
reporters, who wanted a story of our trip.

Since we had promised to be home on September 19th,
there was not a minute to lose. By seven-thirty in the
morning we were tied up to the dock and taking in a
thousand gallons of fuel oil and three hundred of water,
the former largely for ballast aft. When the Bowdoin is in
right trim, she laughs at rough water, and this one can
easily meet off the Nova Scotia coast in late September.

My crew rushed uptown for hair cuts, clothes, fresh
fruits, ice cream, sodas, and other things which they had
missed for a year, with orders to be back promptly at ten
o'clock. Fair wind down the harbor and out as far as
Scatari Island, where we encountered a strong southwest
head wind and rough sea. The barometer was now drop-
ping rapidly and the wind gradually changing more to the
eastward, or east'ard as We say at sea.

At 2.30 a.m. on Thursday we passed the Sambro Island
light buoy, running before a northeast gale. By eight
o'clock the weather looked so threatening that we shortened
sail to jumbo and foresail. It was a question whether to
lay-to or run. Here was an excellent opportunity for us to248	ETAH AND BEYOND

test the seagoing qualities of the Bowdoin, as yet untried
dead before the wind in a sea of this size. We squared her
off. There were times when it seemed certain that our
decks would be swept from stern to bow. The next morn-
ing at breakfast, Bill, the cook, who had sailed in many a
Gloucester fishing schooner, exclaimed, 'You needn't be
afraid of this one, sir, she'll always take you home!'

And home was just ahead. Early in the afternoon
Monhegan lay as a dark cloud on the water. The sun sank
lower and lower and finally dipped behind the trees on the
top of the island. So natural to be arriving home at the
end of the day to be greeted by the welcome flash of the
light, at the base of which we knew our friends to be stand-
ing, friends and relatives who had been watching for hours
eagerly scanning the eastern horizon for the sight of a sail!

Following an eventful evening in the dining-room of
Monhegan's best hotel, they were all with us the next
morning on the deck of the Bowdoin bound for the home
port of Wiseasset. As we rounded the last point of the
beautiful Sheepscot River and brought the town into view,
church bells were ringing and whistles blowing —■ our
welcome home!	■

Following the exercises on the Common, our cabin
seemed strangely quiet as we packed our well-worn clothes,
each man busy with his thoughts, since each garment re-
called some interesting incident of the North.

And now we bid good-bye to our staunch little ship,
strip her of her sails, close the cabin doors, knowing that
a winter is but a day, and to-morrow, when spring suns
thaw the snow from her decks, we'll be back and once more
headed North.

THE ENDLEAVING THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN

BEATING TO WINDWARD HOMEWARD BOUNDSIGHTING THE CAMDEN HILLSAPPENDIXAPPENDIX

I

BIRDS OF THE NORTH

Ornithology is one of the most interesting branches of scientific
work in the North. After a long, cold dark winter in an appar-
ently dead white world, the discovery of a wheeling white dot
high in the heavens is the important event of the year. The
Burgomaster, or Glaucous Gull, is the herald of spring.

Birds, in themselves, are of intense interest to the lovers of the
'Great Out-of-Doors' — increasingly so with the years. I am
inclined to believe this interest is heightened with us in the Far
North because of the fact that these birds are arriving daily from
the land beyond the southern horizon. They are messengers
from home!

And not only from home, but from lands thousands of miles
south of our home, from Florida, the West Indies, South America,
yes, even from its most southern point, Patagonia! Why this
long flight of some eleven thousand miles to lay one egg? We
wonder. Perhaps because seons ago here was the home of that
bird. Love of home, instinct, call it what you will, on they go by
millions up through the United States, up through Canada, over
the ice fields of Hudson Bay and Labrador, over the great ice-
covered lakes of Baffin Land, the stretching ice fields of Baffin
and Melville Bay, braving cold, wind, fog, rain, and snow, back
to the home where they were born, a slight depression in the
moss, a crack in the rock, a narrow shelf a thousand feet above
the sea.

How pitifully small our own travels and how little we have
seen! My imagination runs riot when I think of the spring and
fall migrations of the birds. However much we love the North,
our life there would be a bit dreary without the birds. We look
for them in the spring, we enjoy them during the summer, we
miss them when lakes begin to skim and twilight creeps over the
land.

This list includes all birds seen and positively identified by me
within twelve degrees, or seven hundred and twenty miles, of the
North Pole.,252

APPENDIX

1.	Gavia immer. Loon. Great Northern Diver. Breeds in
Whale Sound, also Inglefield Gulf, on shores of lakes and ponds.
Nest, a slight depression in the moss within a few feet of the
water. Peary often related to me how excited he became some
years ago in Inglefield Gulf. An Eskimo came walking over the
hills with a loon he had just killed. Peary thought he had re-
discovered the Great Auk, a bird which has been extinct for at
least seventy years.

2.	Gavia stellata. Red-throated Loon. Wabby. Cobble.
Known to the Eskimos as Kak-sau. A very common bird all
through Labrador, Hudson Bay region, Baffin Land, Ellesmere
Land, and Greenland. I have found its nest and eggs at the edge
of the Polar Sea on the northern shores of Grant Land, four hun-
dred and fifty miles from the North Pole.

3.	Fratercula arctica naumanni. Large-billed Puffin. This
handsomely colored but grotesque-looking bird was very com-
mon in the waters about Etah, the site of our winter quarters
in 1913-17, and was frequently seen at Refuge Harbor, fifteen
miles north, in 1924. Its most northern nesting-place I believe
to be Hakluyt Isle at the mouth of Inglefield Gulf, 77° 30'
North Latitude. Here I found it breeding in large numbers in
1917. Another favorite nesting-site is Ak-pat, or Ak-pani, as the
Eskimos say, in common with Brunnich's Murre, some thirty
miles north of Cape York near Cape Dudley Digges. I have also
found them nesting on Wolstenholme and Saunders Islands.

4.	Cejppkus mandti. Mandt's Guillemot. Sea-Pigeon. Es-
kimo name, Silgh-wha. Very common from Cape York, 76° N.,
to Cape Union, Grant Land, 82° 18' N. Nests in cracks of cliffs
from the water edge to a height of at least eight hundred feet.
Eggs, 1-2; June 10, Etah. Young seen in the water August 10.
With the possible exception of the Little Auk, or Dovekie, this
bird is the sprightliest, happiest, most active bird in the Arctic.
Its shrill rather plaintive whistle is heard all up and down the
coast. Dabbling, diving, and perking its head, skittering from the
water with pattering red feet, this trim bird is found in nearly
every open pool and all along the edge of the ice. With a rush it
is off with rocking body, but it soon returns with a graceful
sweep, outstretched feet, and happy-go-lucky splash. A lover
of the North and unmindful of violent winds, stormy seas, driving
snows, and freezing slush, the Sea-Pigeon remains until darkness
creeps over the sea — how much longer, we do not know. I have
seen it late in the fall in the semi-darkness and early in theAPPENDIX

253

spring in the increasing twilight. Ten of these birds were seen by
my party when crossing Smith Sound on February 14, 1914,
when the temperature was -54° F. Many and many a time it
seemed to be the only animate thing, outside of our dogs and our-
selves, in that frozen world. We blessed it for its presence.

5.	XJria lomvia lomvia. Brtinnich's Murre. Eskimo name,
Ark-pa. A very valuable bird to the Smith Sound Eskimos, its
flesh being used for food, and its skins for clothing. It breeds in
large numbers all along the west Greenland coast as far north as
80° North Latitude. In certain places such as Ak-pat, Saunders,
Wolstenholme, and Hakluyt's Islands, these birds are caught
with dip nets in large numbers, cached uncleaned under the rocks,
and eaten raw all through the winter night. When entertaining
visitors, white as well as native, in their homes, the Eskimos
offer this food as one of the delicacies of the North. During the
summer months this bird has a very peculiar weird note, a rattle
in the throat, quite unlike any sound uttered by the bird in our
waters during the winter. Large numbers of young seen in the
water with their mother about August 20th.

6.	Alle alle. Dovekie. Sea-Dove. Little Auk. Bull-Bird. Ice-
Bird: Rotge. Rotchie. Rotch. Sea King, Pine-Knot. Eskimo
name, Arq-pud-e-arq. Breeds from 68° N, to Anoritok, 78°
40' N. Arrives at Etah about May 15. Nests in crevices of sea
cliffs in company with Guillemots, in the rock debris at the base
of a cliff, of on a slope, by the sea, bay, lake, or river-bed; it is even
found nesting inland at distance of a mile and at a height of a
thousand feet. Eggs, 1; weight, 1 ounce; date June 18. Two eggs
occasionally found in nest, possibly eggs of two birds, but not al-
ways, as two well-developed eggs are often found in the body of
a bird. Young obtained from the nest July 21. Seen swimming
August 14. Average weight of bird 5.2 ounces. The nest of this
bird is about as simple as a nest can be, consisting merely of a
slight depression, but now and then containing pebbles and a
few bits of dried grass. This is the almost all-important bird of
the Smith Sound Eskimos, highly valued as food and its skin used
for clothing. I can easily understand its being credited with
saving the lives of many of the inhabitants of a far northern
village. When southerly winds prevail and ice packs in on the
shore, preventing the use of kayaks, when strong northern winds
creep down from the ice cap and render their little boats un-
safe, with a consequent loss of walrus, narwhal, and seal meat,
food is behind them on the talus slope — the Arq-pud-e-arq.254

APPENDIX

Great flocks wheel and dip and swing low, fairly skimming the
tops of huge boulders fallen from the cliffs above. At times like
gigantic swarms of mosquitoes, and then, as they wheel and turn
their white under sides to the sun, for all the world like snow-
flakes. Truly one of the sights of the North, the Dovekies in their
summer home. And no sound is quite so pleasant in the Arctic
as that volume of trilling notes coming from a multitude of
throats, now loud, clear, increasing^ now low, faint, diminishing
— wave upon wave of music.

7.	Stercorarius /parasiticus. Parasitic Jaeger. Bosun-Bird.
Teaser. Jiddy-Hawk. Eskimo name, E-shing-wa. The Jaeger
is not a common bird beyond 78° N. I have seen it, however, as
far north as 83° on the northern shore of Grant Land. When
sledging from Lady Franklin Bay, 81° 40', northwards to the
S.S. Roosevelt, at Cape Sheridan, on June 26, this bird swooped
down so close to my head that I ducked to avoid the wings. This
swift and very bold attack led to the discovery of one nest con-
taining two eggs, some twenty yards distant from the ice foot.
The nest was merely a slight depression in a dark reddish gravelly
soil.

8.	Sterocorarius longicaudus. Long-tailed Jaeger. Buffon's
Skua. Much more common than species above, and even as far
north as 83°. Specimen secured by us at Cape Sheridan, northern
shore of Grant Land, on July 1,1909.

9.	Pagophila alba. Ivory Gull. Ice-Partridge. Eskimo name,
Now-ya-wah-o. Very common in Smith Sound, Kane Basin,
Kennedy and Robeson Channels, as far north as 82° 30' N.
Fully formed egg obtained from body of bird June 30, 1914.
Breeds on cliffs on eastern side of Kennedy Channel from 79° to
80° N. Feeds largely upon the excrement of seals and walrus;
also upon remains of seal left on ice by polar bears, and upon
refuse of animals left by Eskimos. Whenever we cut up walrus
upon the drift ice of Smith Sound, the Ivory Gull appeared, and,
alighting within a few yards, waited patiently for its share of the
meat. The young are seen in September with dark markings on
breast and on tail feathers.

10.	Rissa tridactyla tridactyla. Kittiwake. Lickelels (Lab-
rador). Pug (Cape Cod). Eskimo name, Tah-tah-ra. Common
as far north as 82° 30'. Breeds at numerous localities in Smith
Sound, but not north of Etah, 78° £0' N. There are many pecu-
liar customs among the Smith Sound Eskimos and one is con-
nected with this bird. Until recently the head of the bird wasAPPENDIX

255

sewn into the clothes of a female child as an amulet to ensure giv-
ing birth to small children, since the egg of this bird is small in
proportion to its size. The Kittiwake with one exception, the
Fulmar, is the most common bird in Baffin Bay when we are
sailing south in August and September. Large numbers of
young, beautifully marked, are encountered daily.

11.	Larus hyperboreus. Glaucous Gull. Burgomaster. Colo-
nel. Eskimo name, Now-ya. The most common gull in the Far
North. Breeds on cliffs throughout whole extent of coast-line
from Cape York, 76° N., to 82° 30' N. Arrived at Etah May 10,
1914; May 7, 1915; May 13, 1916; May 15, 1917. Upon ledges
and islands, where in general there is need of no protection from
foxes, nests are placed among those of eider ducks and are easily
accessible. Upon the mainland we find them upon cliffs to the
height of a thousand feet. The tops of isolated or outstanding
pillars, sometimes called ' chimney rocks,' are always preferred
to narrow ledges. In the nests is sometimes found one Brant's or
one Eider Duck's egg. Old nests are remade by being pulled
apart and new material added, such as grass and moss. Time of
laying depends much upon snowfall and dry condition of nest.
I found eggs hatching on July 1 at Etah. Ten feet away there
was a nest containing eggs perfectly fresh. Eggs, 2-3; June 8,
1917. Young leave nest August 18-31. Old birds leave Etah and
vicinity about September 1. Young congregate and remain feed-
ing at mouth of streams until October 31. The Glaucous Gmlls
feed upon Dovekies, Eider eggs, young Eiders, lemming, sculpin,
and trout. Dovekies, or Little Auks, are often seized in mid-air
and swallowed whole into the lower throat. Here the bird re-
mains until the flesh is digested. The pellet, consisting of head,
feet, wings, and skin entire, is disgorged.

12.	Larus argentatus. Herring Gull. A rare species north of
Cape York. Never seen north of Etah. I believe its most
northern nesting-place to be at Ittibloo in Whale Sound, 77° 25' N.

13.	Xema sabini. Sabine's Gull. Specimen secured on north-
ern shore of Grant Land on July 8,1909, Lat., 82° 30' N. Fairly
commpn at Etah during June, July, and August, but no nests or
eggs discovered. Eskimos assert that this bird does not breed in
this section. I note that a nest was found on the northeast coast
of Greenland containing two eggs.

14.	Sterna paradiscea. Arctic Tern. Sea-Swallow. Eskimo
name, E-muck-ko-tail-ya. Found nesting on the northern shore
of Grant Land on July 7, 1909, Lat. 8£° 33' N. Nest, slight de-256

APPENDIX

pression on a gravelly beach three feet from high-water mark,
contained one egg only. Very common during our four years at
Etah, flocks continually passing north and south past Sunrise
Point. Eskimos inform me that it nests in large numbers at head
of Inglefield Gulf and also on small, low islands in Whale Sound,
but in no way comparable to the large numbers observed by us
on small grass-covered islands just south of Sukkertoppen.

15.	Fulmarus glacialis glacialis. Fulmar. Whale-Bird. Molly.
Mollimoke. Mallemuke. Noddy. John Down. The most com-
mon bird at sea when we are sailing northward through Baffin
Bay and Davis Straits, called by my crew "Wooden Wings,'
because of the straight, stiff manner in which the bird holds its
wings when gliding low over the tops of waves and down into the
hollow of a sea. The Molly is a real sailor, with a sailor's love for
the sea. She attends us in fair weather and foul, watching for
scraps from the galley. Both light and dark phases of this bird
were very common at Etah and at our winter quarters at Refuge
Harbor as late as September. Found breeding at 76° 35' N.
Several of these birds were seen by us in July when four hundred
and fifty miles from the Pole. I have seen the bodies of dead
whales literally covered with these birds, tugging &nd tearing at
the flesh.

16.	Nettion carolinense. Green-winged Teal. Extremely rare
in the Far North. During our more than six years' sojourn
within twelve degrees of the North Pole, we have seen two of
this species only, a male and female. That they were strangers
to our native companions was very evident by the exclam-
ations of wonder and surprise; they had never seen the bird
before!

17.	Harelda hyemalis. Old-Squaw. Long-tailed Duck. South
Southerly. Hounds. Old Injun. Eskimo name, Ugley. A Far
Northern bird and one of the hardiest. Very common on the
northern coast of Grant Land at the edge of the Polar Sea, where
I found it nesting on June 28. Nest contained five eggs. To
many a lover of nature the peculiarly wild, baying note of this
bird, coming from a multitude of throats, is far more soul-stirring
than the honk of Wild Geese. And how beautiful in their breeding
plumage! And how erect the long tail feathers of the male as he
fairly struts through the water and circles around his lady love!
When winter has gone and warm sunlight plays on southern
slopes, causing snow-banks to drip and rivulets to run, we look
out to sea for black specks against the blue. Days go by, andAPPENDIX

257

then a day without a fault, ice fields glittering in warm bright
sunlight, the sea a molten bed of silver, the air perfectly still,
and then, that far distant, unmistakable, musical cry:4Calm-all-
day,— Calm all-day,— Calm-all-day/ The Old-Squaws have
arrived!

18.	Somateria tnollissima borealis. Northern Eider. Sea-Duck.
Eskimo name, Mee-tik. This species is so common and has such
a wide range that it might justly be called the representative bird
of the Far North. It is found all along the Baffin Land, West
Greenland, and Ellesmere Land coasts, even at the edge of the
Polar Sea along the northern shores of Grant Land. With the
exception of the Dovekie, it is the bird most valued by the Smith
Sound native, large numbers being cached during the summer
months for the long winter night. The Dovekie weighs but 5.2
ounces; lays only one egg, weight, 1 ounce; the Eider weighs
pounds; lays from five to nine eggs* weight, ounces. A visit
to an Eider Duck island is one of the experiences of a lifetime. A
heavy flapping of wings and a dark, grayish-brown body shoots
out almost from under one's feet; now another —another, and
away they go from all parts of the island. Eggs everywhere]
Here two, there four, a little beyond three, and behind that rock
six. We have picked up four thousand fresh eggs from one is-
land in a few hours upon our first visit the last week in June.
Within three days two thousand more were waiting to be col-
lected. This number was our winter egg supply. Cached under
the rocks and protected from the watrm rays of the sun, they re-
mained chilled and perfectly fresh until frozen in early Septem-
ber. And here they can be found, unless stolen by the white or
blue fox, deep under a snow-bank in the middle of the Arctic
night. I recall the picture ■— bright moonlight night, rough sea
ice stretching away in every direction, low black and white is-
land, rocks and huge snow-banks, the sledge and sleeping dogs, a
fuzzy fur-clad figure on all fours in the snow pawing out frozen
eggs with a huge bearskin mitten. The Northern Eider arrives
at Etah about May 1, and remains long after the sun has left.
When bays and harbors are covered with ice and the twilight
of the moon deepens into darkness, the young Eiders, now strong
and with wings fully feathered, are ready for their long flight
southward. A few only, born very late in the season, remain —•
and remain forever, for we have found them frozen into the ice
field.

19.	Somateria spectabilis. King Eider. The King Eider ar-258

APPENDIX

rives in the Far North with the Northern Eider and associates
with it, and, I believe, breeds upon the same islands. The fe-
males of these two species so resemble each other that I was never
able to identify the nest and eggs of the King Eider, since eider
eggs vary considerably in size and color. I have examined and
measured at least a thousand. One of our best authorities pub-
lishes the measurements of the egg of the Northern Eider as
2.95 by 2 inches. In fact the eggs vary in length from 3.25 to
2.75 inches, in breadth from 2.15 to 1.90 inches. The male of the
King Eider is without question the most strikingly beautiful
bird in the Far North, especially in breeding plumage. The del-
icate shading of bluish-gray into pale green into creamy buff,
predominated by black and white, is exquisite, and is worthy
of the best efforts of a colorist. The males are instantly and easily
distinguished as a great flock of mixed Eiders sweeps along the
shore to its feeding ground.

20.	Chen hyperboreus nivalis. Greater Snow Goose. This bird
undoubtedly nests north of 76° between Cape York and the
great Humboldt Glacier. It is known to all Eskimos of the
Smith Sound tribe, but as far as I can learn not one has ever,
found an egg. It probably nests inland on the shores of the nu- ?
merous ponds and lakes between the Greenland Ice Cap and the
sea. A flock of ten arrived at Etah June 10,1917. After circling
around the fiord they flew up over the thousand-foot hills and
headed northward.

21.	Branta bernicla glaucogasira. Brant. Eskimo name, Nug-
luq. A Far Northern bird. Seen on the northern shore of Grant
Land, 82° 30' N., in June 1909, and eggs secured. Large flocks
of these birds arrive in water of Etah about June 1. Most of
these birds continue northward. A few remain and rest on Little-
ton Eider Duck, and Sutherland Islands in company with the
Eider Ducks, the nests being within a few feet of each other.
Eggs, 4-6. Date, June 14-20. Young were found hatching at
Sutherland Island on July 13, 1916. A flock of about thirty
males were discovered on this same date moulting and unable to
fly. The nest of the Brant is similar in construction to that of the
Eider Duck, with the exception of the down out of which the nest
is made, which is a shade lighter in color.

22.	Phalaropus fulicarius. Red Phalarope. Sea-Goose. Bank-*
Bird. Whale-Bird. Very common throughout the Smith Sound
region. Observed as far north as 82° 30'. Found nesting at Life
Boat Cove, a few miles north of Etah, Nest between two rocksAPPENDIX

259

on a low, rather flat point of land dotted with numerous small
pools of water. Eggs, 3; date, June 27, 1916.

23.	Tringa canutus. Knot. Robin Snipe. Beaeh Robin.
Gray-back. Red-breasted Sandpiper. Ash-colored Sandpiper.
Eskimo name, Ting-may-tee'a. Very common on eastern and
western shores of Smith Sound, as far north as 82° 30'. Two
nests containing three eggs each found by Peary Polar Expedi-
tion on July 1, 1909, at Cape Sheridan, northern shore of Grant
Land. Two nests of three and four eggs found by Crocker Land
Expedition at North Star Bay in June, 1917. The nest which was
found in Grant Land was merely a depression in gravelly soil on
rolling ground about one mile from the sea.

24.	Arquatella maritima maritima. Purple Sandpiper. Rock-
weed Bird. Rock Snipe. This bird was often seen in spring and
fall at Etah, but not during summer months. Observed also at
Cape Sheridan, northern shore of Grant Land.

25.	Pisobia bairdi. Baird's Sandpiper. Found nesting at Life
Boat Cove, July 1, 1916. Also at Rensselaer Harbor, June 28,
1916. Eggs, 3. Young seen around shores at Etah, September
2, 1916.

26.	JEgialiiis Maticula. Ringed Plover. This Old-World
species was very common on hills bordering the sloping shores of
Life Boat Cove to Cape Hatherton. Nest, a slight depression in
gravelly soil lined with small pebbles. Eggs, 3; date, June 30,
1916.

27.	Arenaria interpres inter pres. Turnstone. Calico-back,
Chicken Plover. Rock Plover. Brant-Bird. Checkered Snipe.
Red-legged Plover. Very common at Etah from June 1 to Sep-
tember 1. Common at Lady Franklin Bay in August, 1901. I
was interested in seeing a large flock alight upon the water in
Kennedy Channel. Seen frequently along northern shores of
Grant Land in June, 1909.

28.	Lagopus rupestris reinhardi. Reinhardt's Ptarmigan.
Eskimo name, Ah-kuck'sha. Common at Etah in spring and fall
migration. Not seen in July and August. Undoubtedly many re-
main in the Far North throughout the year. Seen on March 19,
1914, when we were crossing the Beitstadt Glacier of Ellesmere
Land at a height of forty-seven hundred feet, with a temperature
of -50° F. Also seen on March 30,1914, in Eureka Sound at 79°
15' N. Recorded by me at Ward Hunt Island on most northern
coast of Grant Land, 83° 7' N., on March 21,1909. Shot at Etah
on February 13, 1916, five days before the return of the sun.260

APPENDIX

These birds pick through, the crust of snow with their bills, then
clear away loose snow with their feet in order to uncover willow
buds. The breeding-note in April resembles very much the
sound of a policeman's rattle. Nesting date early in June.

29.	Falco islandus. White Gyrfalcon. Speckled Partridge
Hawk. Eskimo name, Ka-she'we-a-how. Arrives at Etah about
May 1. Found nesting on vertical cliffs from a height of thirty
to a thousand feet. As far north as Cape Sheridan, 82° 30'.
Nesting dates, at Force Bay, May 27,1919; May 31,1917; Etah,
June 7, 1917. Eggs, 4. Young taken from nest at Etah on Au-
gust 16, 1908; August, 1915. Young seen flying September 1,
1916. Feeds upon Eider Duck, Mandt's Guillemot, Ptarmigan,
Arctic Hare, and Dovekies. The last are carefully picked, de-
capitated, wings bitten off, and body swallowed. When the meat
is digested the bones are disgorged.

30.	Nyctea nyctea. Snowy Owl. Eskimo name, Ook-pik.
Rarely seen at Etah. Common at Cape Sheridan on northern
shore of Grant Land during the light period. Nest found July 5,
two miles from coast on the summit of a projecting mass of rock
above a river-bed. Contained four young, surprisingly unequal
in size, and two eggs. Remains in the Far North throughout the
year. Seen at Floeberg Beach by Nares Expedition on March
29, 1876. Food consists of lemming, Ptarmigan, and Arctic
hare. Necessarily diurnal in habits during the long light period,
but more active as the sun swings low in the north. Bright sun-
shine affects its sight but little, if any, as shown by the fact that
the Arctic Owl is extremely wary and difficult to approach
within gun-shot. During the dark period its sole food must be
the Arctic hare, which are very numerous in North Greenland*
Ellesmere Land, and all lands west.

An extract from my field journal: 'November 17, 1915. When
driving around Cape Kendrick to-night in a regular blizzard —
drifting snow, heavy wind, temperature -30° F. — my dogs
suddenly leaped ahead, dashed right, then left, stopped, and be-
gan to fight. To my astonishment, they were tearing a hare to
pieces. As it is well known that no dog could possibly capture an
Arctic hare, I was puzzled for a moment. It is the opinion of the
Eskimos who were with me that an owl had captured the hare
and was eating it upon the ice as we arrived. The mad dash of
my dogs from place to place was in pursuit of the owl and his six
to eight pound burden.'

31.	Corvus corax principalis. Northern Raven. Eskimo name,APPENDIX

261

Tood-a-waq. During the early spring and summer months the
Raven is found as Far North as land extends (Lat. 83° 40').
Winter resident at Etah. Majority migrate south about Sep-
tember 15. Nests about April 16 on cliffs. Nest often inacces-
sible. Young found in nests near Etah June 3 and June 15.
Seen flying August 25. Food during winter months consists of
excrement of dogs, foxes, wolves, and Arctic hare. From May
15 to September 1 the Raven feeds largely upon Dovekies, which
are singled out from the flock, pursued and captured in the air,
or driven exhausted to the ground and to the surface of the fiord
ice. The nests of the Eider Duck also suffer from the depreda-
tions of the Raven, which jabs its lower bill through an egg and
carries it to its nestlings on the cliff. Considered good eating by
the Smith Sound Eskimos.

82. Acanthis hornemanni hornemanni. Greenland Redpoll.
Rare at Etah. Two flocks of about ten each seen at Sunrise
Point on August 1, 1916. Specimen obtained September 5.

33.	Plectrophenax nivalis nivalis. Snow Bunting. Eskimo
name, Kop-a-noo. Found nesting on northern shores of Green-
land and Grant Land. Nest of grass, moss, and feathers under
and in crevices of ground rocks. Eggs, 4-7; date, June 19. This
bird arrived at Etah about April 15. Remained until November
1. One heard by me at Nerky on November 12. The Eskimos
declare that a few remain all winter. Very musical during the
breeding-season.

34.	Saxicola oenanthe leucorhoa. Greenland Wheatear, Mi-
grates in spring to the edge of the Polar Sea. Arrives at Etah
about May 20. Nest, in construction and location, similar to
that of Snow Bunting. Date, June 15. Eggs, 5. Young found in
nest July 3, 1916. Young seen flying on August 5, 6, 7.

35.	Haliceetus albicilla. Gray Sea Eagle. I add this bird to
the list because it nests at Cape Seddon in Melville Bay, the
most southern settlement of the Smith Sound Eskimos.II

THE SPEECH OF THE SMITH SOUND ESKIMOS

The Smith Sound Eskimos were discovered by Captain John
Ross in 1818. Just how long they have occupied that stretch of
coast line between Cape York and Etah no one knows, but cer-
tainly one thousand years, since the Eskimos who were seen by
the Norsemen in South Greenland in 982 must have migrated
from this section.

That the language of this isolated tribe is practically the same
that we find in Labrador, Baffin Land, and South Greenland is of
very great interest to the reader of Arctic literature and to the
student.

Necessarily all material things imported by the white man are
designated by different terms in different tribes, for a thing is
named according to some characteristic of that thing, such as its
color, size, weight, feel, smell, taste, and general resemblance.
As an illustration, the Eskimo word for vest is really a ' sweating
machine'; the word for pocket knife,4that which shuts up like a
trap'; the word for sugar, 'that which is like sand'; the word for
watch,4 that which follows the sun around'; the word for comb/ a
machine for untangling the hair'; a puzzle, "a thing that cannot
be done'; a block, 4a pulling machine,' etc.

From my list of some two thousand words, I am selecting and
submitting for your interest and comparison the following, al-
though I fully realize that it is absolutely impossible to produce
many of the more intricate sounds of that Eskimo tongue with
the use of the twenty-six letters of the English alphabet. The
successful spelling phonetically of many Eskimo words can only
be accomplished by additional characters; therefore, in this list,
I am avoiding the more difficult and recording the more simple.

Anglo-Eskimo Vocabulary
Abed — eeg-lul'me
Able — sah-ping-ee'tofe
Aboard — oo-me-ark-suah'me
Above — ko-dah'ne

Abundance of meat — ne-kaut-tee-tok'swee
Across — ak-i-go-ah-gah'APPENDIX

Adrift — aud-lock'a-ho

Again — a-too'do

Again, again! — a-too'a-too

Again, do it! — a-too'do-kah'

Ago, a little while — oo'tee-ah'

Ago, a long time — immany-dwark'suah

Ahead, straight — see-voo-moot'

Air — sila

Alive — oo-ma-howk'suah
All — ta-ma'sa
All — ta-mau'me

All gone from here — ta-ma'ne-ing-e'to-su'ah

Alone, I am — innoo-too-wang'a

Always — shoody

Ammunition«— ee-lew-dick'sha

Anchor — kissaut'

Angry — kay-ping-yoo-nark'tok

Appear, they — alle-ka'put

Appears — allekapok'

Approaches, he — kag-lin-e-a-duck'pok

Arm — ted'da

Arrow — kark'$o

Ascend a hill — mi-yoo-ark'tok

Attack a boat (walrus) — too-dok-shark'tok

Aunt — ah-gah'

Aurora — ak'sark

Autumn — o-kee-al'me

Awake, he is — too-puck'tok

Awake, I am too-pak-tung'a

Away, far — tah-wung'ah

Away, I see far — tark-pee-shung'a

Away, take it — pee-a-roo'

Babies — na-lung-i-ars'su-it

Baby boy — ang-o-ting'wa

Baby girl—• al-ning'wa

Bachelor —noo-ka-pish'it

Bear — na'nook

Bear cub — ah-tuck'ta

Beard — oo'mick

Beard, my — oo-mi-kah'

Beard, your — oo-muck-tin'

Bearded seal — uk'juk264

APPENDIX

Bed — eeg'la
Bed, go to — in-ne'in

Bed, had he gone to — in-nul-e-ark'to-kah'

Bed, I am going to — inna-ac-tung'a

Bed, in the — eeg-lul'me

Beneath — ah-tah'

Berg — illoo-lee'ark

Beyond — o-wa-tah'ne

Bird — ting-mee'a

Black, it is — klul-nuck'tok

Blanket — klay'pick

Blood — au

Boat — oo-me-ing'wa

Boot — ka'mik

Boy — noo-ka-pee'aq

Boy, large — noo-ka-pee-ark'sha

Boy, small — noo-ka-pay'teer

Bread — nee-dul'na

Brow — kauk

Button — ah-no-ark'tood

Cache — kling'na

Cap — nee-hed'da

Cap — nee-hed-doo'ah

Cap like a — nee-a-doo'sha

Children — perapa'luit

Chin — teb'loo

Cliff — im'nark

Cliff, big — im-nark'suah

Cliff, on the big — im-nark-suah'me

Clothes — an'no-rat

Cold — ik'kee!

Cold, are you? — ik'kay-a-yook-too'tin?

Cold, it is very ! —ik'kee-a-noc'toq!

" " " " ik'kee-a-nock'to-suah'!
" " " " it-sing'a-hok!
« ^	^ ikke-a-nah-dwah'!

Comb — ig-lay-oo'tin
Comb, my — ig-lay-oo'ti-ka'

Comb, your — ig-lay-oo'ti-tin'

Come — kai'git
Companion — i'pah
Cornmeal — ee-tuck-kow'a-taAPPENDIX

Coyer — mut'too
Dance — ka-teek'tok
Daughter — pa'nik
Daughter, his — pa-nee'a
Daughter, my — pa-nee-ga'

Daughter, your — pa-neen'

Day — oov'loot

Day, every — oov'loot tamai'sa

Dead, he is — to'ko-wok

Dimple — karg'loo

Dog — kli'mik

Dog harness — ah'noo

Dog harness (2). — ah'nook

Dog harness (plural) — ah'nun

Dog king, my old — ee-tok-a-tee'a

Dog king, your — ee-tok-a-tit'

Dog meat-box — klimik'ping

Dried meat — neek'koo

Duck, eider — me'tik

Duck, eider, king — mee-tee'we-a-how

Earth — nu'na

Eggs — mun'nee

Eskimo — In'nuk

Eskimos — In'nuit

Eskimos, many — In-yook-suit'

Eskimos, my — In-yoo-ko'tikah'

Eye — i'she

Face —• kee'na

Face, my — kee-na-gah'

Face, your — kee-nin'

Female — ahl'na

Flint — ahng'ma

Fox — teriang'naq

Friend, I am your — noo-a-nah'sook-tung'a

Friend, my — noo-ah-ni-ee'ga

Friend, who is your? — kee'na-noo-a-ni-e'?

Friend, you are my — noo-a-nah'sook-too'tin ,

Frost — kah'nil

Frozen — kli'a-shaw

Frozen meat — ah-ma-houk'suah

Go away, I — aud-la-pung'a

Go away, I shall — aud'lay-ark-tung'aAPPENDIX

Going home, I am — aug-ood-lay'ae-tung'a

Gone away, has he? — aud-la-ka'?

Grass — ee-wick'she

Grave — ee'dee-wuq

Gray, it is — ki-ko-e-ark'toq

Hair—noo'ya

Happy, l am —si-ma-shung'a
Hard — mung-yuck'toq
Harmonica — hoop-oo-o'tit
Head — ni'aqoq
Heavy — oka-nee'toq
Here it is — oo-wun-ee'toq
Home, rock — ig'dloo
Hot — oo-nark'toq

House, a good large — igd-loo-tee-ark'suah

House, a good small — igd-lung'wa

House, I am building — igd-loo-he-ke-hung'a

House, I shall build — igd-loo'e-kee-e-ark-tung'a

House, snow — igd-loo'e-aq

House, snow, in his — igd-loo-e-ah'ne

House, snow, in your — idg-loo-e-ahl'ne

House, snow, your — igd-loo-e-kit'

Ice — see'ko

Knife — sa'vik

Knife, my — sa-vi-kah'

ICnife, pocket — ishe-ma-hark'tood

Knife, pocket, my — ishe-ma-hark-too'ka

Knife, pocket, your — ishe-ma-hark-too'kin

Knife, your —savik-shin'

Knot — nok'loo

Lake—• tesl

Land — nu'na

Land, a large— noo-nark'suah

Land, a small — noo-nung'wa

Land, from the — nu-na-mit'

Land, on the — nu'na-me

Land, through the — nu-na-kut'

Land, to the — nu-na-mun'

Laugh, I — eeg-lark-tung'a

Laughing, why are you? — sho-eeg-ledda-kein?

Leaks, it — ee-muck'toq

Leg — nee'ooAPPENDIX

267

Lift-up — hee-wick-tee'ho
Like — ee-mah'

" sor'loo
" tai'ah
" tai-ah'toq
" tai-mah'toq
" tai-mah'to-me
" this — ee-mah-ing'na
Little, a — im-mung'wa
Little, it is too — mikki-loo-ark'poq
Little more — ah-tood-e-ching'wa
Long time ago — tai-men-nark'suah
Look — tah-koo'!

Look at it — tah-ka-wood-laut'

" " " tah-kee-e'ya
Look here — tah-koo'na
Lose, I — tai-mark-tung'a
Lost, is it? — tai-ma-hah'?

Lungs — pu-ak'

Male — ang'oot

Man, middle-aged — oo-to-karh'suah
Man, old — ee'tok
Man, very old — ee-tee-dook'suah 7
Man, young — in-yoo-yook'tok
Many, how? — karf-si'ni?

Maybe — ai-shoo-ark'toq
Maybe so — een-you-ark'toq
Milk — ee'moo

Milk, I want — ee'mook-tok-a-hung'a
Mine, it is -— awung'a pee'a
Mirage — poo-e-quark'to-shem'a-shoot
Mittens -— ai-a-kut'te
Mittens, inside — ee'lee-paq
Mittens, my — ai-a-kut'ti-ka'

Mittens, your — ai-a-kut'ti-kin'

Moon — ah'ning-ahn'

Moon, full! — ah-ning-ark'suah-a-de-kuk-a-hjoM

Mountain — kah'ka

Mountain, from — kah-kah'mitr

Mountain, large — kah-kak'suah

Mountain, like a — kah-kak'toot

Mountain, on the large — kah-kak-suah'me268

APPENDIX

Mountain, through — kah-kah'feut
Mountain, to — kah-kah'mut
Mouth — kah'nil
Mouth, corner of — elk'e
Mouth, roof of — klay'luck
Mouldy — oo-kok'toq
Mouldy, very — oo-kok'suah
Much, it is too — pee-loo-ark'poq
Musk-ox — oo-ming'muck
Nail — kee-kee'ik
Nail, finger — koo'kin'

Name — ah-ting'a

Name, what is its? — ka'nok-a-ting'a?

Name, what is your? — ka'nok ah-til-ah'pin?

Near—- kone-ting'wa

Necklace -— toog-laut'

Needle — merk'ut

Needle, large — oo-do-ned'dy

New — noo'tarq'

North wind — ah-wing-mik'so

" " ah-tawn'na
Nose — kling'a
Nose, my — kling'ah7
Nose, your — kling-nin'

Now — tes-shing'wa
Old man — ee'tok
Old man, very — ee-tee-dook'suah
Patch ang-nee'le
Perhaps — ai-shoo-ark'toq
Perhaps — im'ma-ha
Pillow — ah/hee-hee'

Pipe — poo'yoot
Pipe, my — poo-yoo'tee
Pipe stem — king-me-shauk'wick
Plays, he — ping-you-ark'toq
Point — noo

Point, from the — noo'mit
Point, on the — noo'me
Point, to the —< noo'mun
Poor in flesh — sha-dook'toq
Poppy:— ark-pow'a-sha
Puppy — king-me-rars'sukAPPENDIX

Puzzle — ai-uk-swee-towt'

Quiet — oo-ka-dung-nee'toq

Quilt — klay-pick-shah'

Raven — tood'e-wuq

Red — auk-pa-deek'toq

Red hot -—ah-mauk'toq

Reindeer — tuk'too

Ribs — suck-kee'a

Ride, I — ik-shoo-ma-hung'a

Right, is it? — nah-muck'pa?

Rinse, I — me-shook'ta-hung'a ,

Rip, I — kee-loo-ark-tung'a

Rising heat — we-a-mul'e-ah-dah'

River — kook

Road — in'ning

Rock — we'ark

Rock on the — we-ah-kun'ne

Round — ang-ma-tok'a-sha

Row, I — powk-tung'a

Row, I shall — pow-e-ark-tung'a

Runners, sledge — pilt-lu'she

Sad — sai-mung-ee'toq

Sand — see'o-rak

Sculpin — kan'a-yo

Sea — ee'maq

Seal (Gystophora cristata) — net'tuck-suah'

Seal (Phoca harbata) — ook'juk

Seal {Phoca greenlandica) — ah'taq

Seal (JPhoca hisjdda) — poo-is'se

Seal, did he kill? — ang-o-ka'?

Seal, did you kill? — ang-o-kait'?

Seals, he hunts — ang-oo'nee-a-dook'toq

Sealskin line — ag'loo-naq

Sealskin, white — kee-eek'ta

See them, I do — ishe-king'ee-kee'ka

See, what do you? — ka'nok ishe-vee'vok

Ship — oo-me-ark'suah

Shirt — ah-tee'

Shirt, under —■ ah-tee-shah'ne

Shore — tin-nil'na

Shore, on the — tin-nil-nul'me

Shovel — kah-don7270

APPENDIX

Shut the door — oo-mig'ly

Sick — who-yung'a-how

Sing, I — ing-muck-tung'a

Sing, I do not — ing'me-ang'e-tung'a

Sledge — ka'mu-tit

Sleep, I — see-nig-tung'a

Sleepy, I am — il-na-yook-tung'a

Smoke — poo'yok

Smoke, I — poo-yok-tung'a

Smokes, he — pook-yok'tok

Snow — ah'put

Snow bird — ko'pa-noo

Soap — oo-gwout'

Son — il-nah'

Son, his —• il-ning'a

Son, my — il-nee-ga'

Son, your — il-nin'

Soon — oo'tee-a'

Spoon — ah-dook-saut'

Stomach — ah-kli-ah'o

Stone — oo'ja-rak

Stopper — sim-mee'a

Stove — ikke-mau'vik

Straight — to-ark'toq

Strong — pee-shark'suah

Sugar — see-o-row'sak

Sun — suk'ke-nek

Tent — tu'pik

Thread — ee-wid'doo

Walrus — ali'wik

Walrus tusk — too'gaq

What is it? — su-nau-na'?

Who? •— kee'na?

Who are you? — kee-nau-veet'?

Whose? — kee'a?

Wind — ano're

Window — e-a-dah'

Wings — ee-shau'

Yesterday — ik-puck'sha

Yesterday, day before — ik-puck-shah'neAPPENDIX

Conjugation of Toosakpok, He Hears
Indicative Mood
Affirmative
Present Tense
Singular

Toosakpoonga	I hear

Toosakpotit	thou hearest

Toosakpok	he hears

Toosakpogook

Toosakpose

Toosakpook

Toosakpogoot

Toosakpose

Toosakput

Dual

Plural

we two hear
you two hear
they two hear

we hear
you hear
they hear

Past Tense
Singular

Toosalaukpoonga

Toosalaukpotit

Toosalaukpok

Toosalaukpogook
Toosalaukpotik
Toosalaukpook ,

Toosalaukpogoot

Toosalaukpose

Toosalaukput

Dual

Plural

I heard
thou heardest
he heard

we two heard
you two heard
they two heard

we heard
you heard
they heard

Future Tense
Singular

Toosangneakpoonga
T oosangneakpotit
Toosangneakpok

I shall or will hear
thou wilt or will hear
he will hear272

APPENDIX

Dual

Toosangneakpogook	we two shall or will hear

Toosangneakpotik	you two shall or will hear

Toosangneakpook	they two shall or will hear

Plural

Toosangneakpogoot	we shall or will hear

Toosangneakpose	you shall or will hear

Toosangneakput	they shall or will hear

Negative
Past Tense
Singular

Toosalautyangelanga I did not hear
Plural

Toosalautyangelagoot we did not hear

Perfect Tense
Singular

Toosakshnatyangelanga I have not heard
Plural

Toosaksimatyangelagood we have not heard

Future Tense
Singular

Toosangneatyangelanga I will or shall not hear
Plural

Toosangneatyangeleagoot We will or shall not hear

The Lord's Prayer
As used by the Moravian Missionaries of Labrador

Nalegak Gude, Atatavut kilangme! 1
Attit nertortaule. Nalegaunit kailaule.

Pijomajat piniartaule nuname sorlo kilangme.

Unvlome piksaptingnik tunnitsivigitigut.

Idluinivut issumagijuhgnaikit, sorlo uvagut
idluitullivigij ivut issumagi j ungnaervigigaptigik.
Oktortaulungnermut pitinnata. Piulitigulle ajortomit.
Nalegaunek pitsartunerlo ananaunerlo pigigangne issokangi-
tomut.

Amen.Ill

MONTHLY TEMPERATURE AVERAGES

at Refuge Harbor, Greenland, 78° 31' N. Lat., from
September 1, 1923, to June 8, 1924

(All readings in Fahrenheit degrees)

	1923				1924					
	Sept.	Oct.	Nov.	Dec.	Jan.	Feb.	Mar.	Apk.	Mat	JUNB1
Average tem- perature ....	23.4	7.0	-3.0	-15.6	-21.3	-25.3	-10.5	—2.8	27	S3.6
Average daily maximum...	29.1	12.2	2.0	-10.5	-15.9	-22.0	-2.5	6.8	S3.4	56.3
Average daily minimum...	17.7	2.9	-8.1	-19.1	-28.1	-31.2	-18.4	-11.4	13.7	22.5
Average daily range.......	11A	9.3	10.1	8.6	12.2	9.2	15.9	17.6	19.7	33.8
Extreme maxi- mum.......	38.2	SO.O	36.0	1.0	15.5	2.0	13.9	38.0	58.2	56.8
Extreme mini- mum .......	8.0	-13.9	-19.2	-29.2	-42.0	-45.3	-42.0	-36.0	-13.0	22.5
Extreme range	30.2	43.9	55.2	30.2	57.5	47.3	55.9	74.0	71.2	33.8

1 Only for first eight days of June.

1 Only for first eight days of June.

As Refuge Harbor is but eleven miles north of Etah in lati-
tude and has practically the same conditions, with the exception
of prolonged and violent winds during the dark period at the
latter place, a comparison of the above temperatures with our
long four-year series taken at Etah during the years of 1913-17
is of interest.

I have asked one of my scientists, Mr. W. Elmer Ekblaw, now
of Clark University, Worcester, Massachusetts, to submit what
he considers to be of interest. I quote from his report to the
American Museum of Natural History:

In all data recorded for Etah by the Crocker Land Expedition
the extreme minimum temperature is reported to have been
-42° F. In 1913-14 it was -36.2° F.y occurring on March 13; in
1914-15 -42° F., occurring on March 10; in 1915-16 -28.8° F.,
occurring on February 1, and in 1916-17 -35.8° F., occurring on
December 24, 1916. Thus the average minimum for a period of
four years was -32.1° F., considerably higher than for interior274

APPENDIX

Canada or Siberia, much farther south. The ameliorating effect
of the near-by sea is clearly revealed in this relatively high aver-
age minimum. The extreme maximum recorded for Etah by
the Crocker Land Expedition was 63° F. For the summer of
1914, it was 61° F. on July 22; of 1915, it was 63° F. on July 1;
of 1916, it was 53° F. on July 14 and 29; and of 1917, it was 57.5°
Yl on July 12 and 14, The average extreme maximum for the
fouj* years is thus but 55.3° F.

The range between the extreme minimum for the four years,
and the extreme maximum was 105 degrees, a clear indication of
the marine effect. The extreme range for 1914 was 97.2 degrees;
for 1915, 89.2 degrees; and for 1916, 81.8 degrees. The average
extreme range for the three years was 89.4 degrees. The lowest
temperatures come in March; the highest in July. The lag of
increase in temperature behind the return of the sun is a notice-
able feature of all Arctic lands. Spring does not become evident
in Thule until well into April. The extension of summer tem-
peratures well into September and the lag of decreased temper-
atures behind the disappearance of the sun is distinct and char-
acteristic. The most abrupt changes from month to month come
between April and May when the temperature rises twenty de-
grees and between September and October when the temper-
ature falls eighteen degrees. January, February, and March, the
coldest months, vary less than four degrees in average temper-
ature and but little in range. June, July, and August, the warm-
est months, vary about six degrees in average temperature and
but slightly in range. July is the only month in which the aver-
age range lies quite above freezing.

The average daily temperature, the average daily and average
extreme maxima, the average daily and average extreme minima,
and the average daily and extreme range for each of the months
of the year, as determined by the Crocker Land Expedition, are
indicated in the table on page 275.

The sharp transition from spring to summer comes with the
midnight sun or soon after. Then the sun is high enough in the
sky at noon to produce a distinct heating effect during the middle
of the day, an effect which is not wholly lost through the sun-
lighted night hours, even though no heat is added as long as the
sun is low in the north. The cumulative increment of each day's
warmth becomes quickly effective, and spring comes on apace.

June is considered by the Eskimo the most changeable month.
They aver that the changeable and unpleasant weather is a bene-Monthly Temperature Averages

	Jan.	Feb.	March	April	May	June	July	Aug.	Seft.	Oct.	Nov.	Dec.
Average temperature____	-13.3	-15.8	-12.7	- 1.62	21.3	34.7	40.9	37.3	25.5	7.5	- 6.8	- 7.5
Average daily maximum.	- 9.1	-11.8	- 7.6	- 3.1	25.4	39.2	46.7	40.1	28.4	9.7	- 3.2	- S.l
Average daily minimum..	-17.4	-20.0	-20.0	- 6.6	15.6	29.7	34.1	32.0	22.9	3.5	-10.4	-11.2
Average daily range.....	8.3	8.2	12,4	9.7	9.8	9.5	12.6	8.1	5.8	6.2	7.2	8.2
Average extreme maximum	7.9	4.0	10.3	20.0	40.0	53.2	58.6	53.6	38.6	28,5	11.7	11.8
Average extreme minimum	<3*  co ©*  1	-29.5	-32.1	-19.5	1.2	22.6	27.1	22.4	14.1	-7.3	-21.2	-27.5
Average extreme range...	36.1	33.5	42.4	39.5	38.8	30.6	31.5	31.2	24.5	35.8	32.9	39.3276

APPENDIX

ficent arrangement of Nature to keep the mother birds on the
nest until the eggs are hatched; for June is the season of nesting
birds in the Eskimo calendar; when June is over, real summer
weather soon begins.

Spring comprises the period from the first appearance of the
sun on February 21 to the first midnight sun on April 21, the
period of lengthening day and shortening night. Summer is the
season of continuous sunshine from April 21 to August 21.
Autumn comprises the period from the first sunset at midnight
on August 21 to the disappearance of the sun at noon on October
21, the period of shortening day and lengthening night. Winter is
the season of total absence of sun, from October 21 to February
21. Allowing ten days for the effects of the disappearance and
reappearance of the sun to become appreciable, spring may be
considered to begin on March 1, summer on May 1, autumn on
September 1, and winter on November 1. The seasonal daily and
average extreme maxima, minima, and ranges, are indicated in
the following table:

Seasonal Temperature Averages

*	Spring	Summer	Autumn	Winter
Average temperature.............	- 7.2	33.6	16.5	-10.9
Average daily maximum..........	- 2.3	38.0	19.5	- 6.8
Average daily minimum...........	-13.3	27.9	13.2	-14.8
Average daily range..............	11.0	10.1	6.3	8.0
Average extreme maximum........	15.2	51.3	33.6	8.8
Average extreme minimum........	-25.8	18.5	3.4	-26.9
Average extreme range............	41.0	32.8	30.2	35.8

Seasonal Temperature Averages

The rise in temperature from spring to summer is pronounced.
The average temperature for spring is -7.2° F., and for summer
33.6° F., a difference of 40.8°. The drop from summer to autumn
and from autumn to winter is not so abrupt — from 33.6° F.,
in summer, to 16.5° F., in autumn and -10.9° F., in winter. The
average temperature for winter is but 3.7° lower than for spring.
From May to October inclusive the average range lies above
zero, from November to April inclusive the average range is
below zero.

A continuous, extensive, prolonged ice cover lowers the aver-
age temperature and retards the advance spring. A heavy
mantle of snow upon the ice so accentuates the effect of the ice
cover that a season of heavy snowfall coincident with a season
of continuous ice lay results in extreme low temperatures almostAPPENDIX

277

or quite until May. A season of widespread open water issues a
relatively mild and equable spring, cloudier and foggier than one
of heavy and extensive ice. Spring and summer advance more
steadily and gradually when the water is open; more belatedly
and suddenly when the ice is continuous and extensive. Those
differences in spring weather conditions have a profound effect
upon the hunting and other activities of the Eskimo well into
the following summer.

Pressure and Winds

Thule lies in a polar zone of intermediate pressure in which the
barometer is relatively steady and constant. The pressure rarely
rises above 30.5 inches and rarely falls below 29.0 inches. For
weeks at a time through the summer months the range of pres-
sure extends over only 0.5 inch. The pressure during the winter
months is most variable with a sequence of emphatic highs and
lows that suggests the procession of cyclonic areas across north
temperate latitudes. Rises of pressure above average are more
pronounced than decreases below. The pressure of November
and December are similar in sequence and amplitude of highs
and lows. February and March are almost as variable as the
winter months, but April and May become more equable.

! The average pressure, the average daily maximum and ex-
treme maximum, the average daily minimum and extreme mini-
mum, and the average daily range for the months of 1916, are
indicated in the accompanying table on page 278.

The procession of monthly pressures and ranges is less uniform
than that of temperatures but of seasonal pressures, more regu-
lar. From January to April inclusive the barometer rises stead-
ily; in May, June, and July it falls steadily; rises in August and
September; falls again in October; rises again abruptly from
November to December, and falls abruptly from December to
January.

The average pressure, the average daily maximum and ex-
treme maximum, the average daily minimum and extreme mini-
mum, and the average daily range and extreme range for the
seasons of 1916 are indicated in the table on page 279.

The highest pressures prevail in spring, the next highest in
summer, the lowest in autumn, and the next lowest in winter.
The average pressures of summer and winter are almost the
same. The lowest average pressures for 1916 occurred in Janu-
ary and July; the highest in April and December.Monthly Pressure Averages —1916

00

	Jan,	Feb.	March	April	May	June	July	Aug.	Sept.'	Oct.	Nov.	Dec.
Average pressure............	29.60	29.80	30.05	30.16	30.12	29.95	29.71	29.75	29.81	29.66	29.79	30.18
Average daily maximum.....	29.70	29.90	30.02	30.30	30.22	30.27	29.80	29.83	29.92	29.80	29.89	20.28
Average daily minimum......	29.50	29.60	29.90	30.08	30.06	29.85	29.62	29.67	29.73	29.50	29.68	29.06
Average daily range.........	.20	.30	.12	.22	.16	.42	.18	.16	.19	.30	.21	.22
Extreme maximum..........	30.30	30.55	31.10	30.75	30.55	30.35	30.20	30.15	30.20	30.35	30.50	30:85
Extreme minimum......	28.75	29.05	29.45	29.60	29.80	29.40	29.40	29.15	29.40	29.20	29.15	29.50
Extreme range..............	1.55	1.50	1.65	1.15	.75	.95	.80	1.00	.80	1.15	1.35	1.35

►

M.
O

l-h

MAPPENDIX	279

Seasonal Pressure Averages—1916

	Spring	Summer .	Autumn	Winter
Average pressure..............	30.105	29.883	29.735	29.842
Average daily maximum........	30.25	30.03	*29.86	29.942
Average daily minimum........	29.99	29.801	29.615	29.71
Average daily range...........	.26	.229	.245	.232
Average extreme maximum.....	30.925	30.312	30.275	30.55
Average extreme minimum.....	29.525	29.437	29.3	,29.102
Average extreme range.........	1.4	.875	.975	1.448

Seasonal Pressure Averages—1916

The data for winds obtained from the Crocker Land Expedi-
tion are quite untrustworthy. The winds at Etali almost in-
variably blow down the fiord which extends southwesterly from
the ice cap to the sea, no matter what the real direction of the
overhead wind may be. Consequently any deductions from
those data would be invalid.INDEX

Advance, the schooner, 97, 161.
Ah'pel-lah, the Eskimo, 138.
Ak-kom'mo-ding'wa, the Eskimo, 134,

144, 197, 201, 202, 203.

Ak-pat, 67, 222.

Alert, the ship, 161.

Ameralik Fiord, 48, 49.

American Museum of Natural History,
• 273.

Animals, protective coloring, 170.
Annapolis, Md., 35.

Arctic, the ship, 79, 80, 103.

Arctic circle, 60, 236.

Ashton, Leonard, 9,13.

Auk, great, 252.

Auk, little. See Dovekie.

Aurora borealis, 117.

Bache Peninsula, 163, 185.

Baffin, William, 68; quoted, 68-70.
Ball's River beacon, 238.

Bank-bird. See Phalarope, red.
Barometric pressure, 277-79.

Battle Harbor, 9-10, 23-24, 26, 245.
Bauer, Dr. Louis, 195.

Baxter, Percival, 1.

Bay Fiord, 164, 175,177.

Bear, polar, 190-91; sighted, 194.
Bedford Pim Island, 126.

Beitstadt Fiord, 175.

Belle Isle, 23; straits of, 15,19.

Bernier, Capt. Joseph, 79.

Birds, at Perroquet Island, 17; of
Labrador, 25; of the Greenland coast,
46; at Nerky, 140; abundance in
summer, 187, 205; at Bushnan Is-
land, 222; migrations, 251; seen
within twelve degrees of the North
Pole, 252-61.

Bisbee, Mrs. Harlan, 118.

Blanc Sablon, 19.

Bon Portage Island, 11.

Boothbay Harbor, 2.

Boston Yacht Club, 20, 28.

Bosun-bird. See Jaeger, parasitic.
Boulter's Rock, 29.

Bowdoin, the schooner, departure, 1-5;
swung for compass variation, 2;
northward course, 5, 10-12, 13, 15,
16, 18-19, 20, 23, 28, 30, 36, 37, 41,
43,45, 57,58, 60, 65,70, 73,76; crew,
7-9; flags, 13, 15; takes on supplies,
14; engine, speed, cruising radius,
etc., 15-16; in the ice pack, 35, 42;
equipment, 43; purpose of the voy-
age, 50, 78, 88; bowsprit, 58, 60;
takes on dogs and drivers, 72-73;
load, 73; flag at half mast for death of
President Harding, 80; unloaded at
Refuge Harbor, 89; its 'Farthest
North,' 97; in winter quarters, 98,
102; frozen in, 103; its comfort, 123-
24; ventilation, 124; receives visitors
from Nerky, 145; baptism of Eskimo
baby on board, 145; leakage, 156-57;
cleaned for summer, 187; ballasted
for homeward trip, 192; begins to
break out of ice, 209; free from ice,
214; leaves anchorage, 214; aground,
215-18; its bottom, 218; leaves
Refuge Harbor, 219; takes on Es-
kimo passengers and dogs, 219;
homeward Course, 219, 220, 222, 223,
224, 226, 236, 238, 241, 242, 244;
entertains children of Nerky, 220;
flies Danish flag, 230; sojourn at
Holstenborg, 230-36; sights Ras-
mussen's ship, 236; among rocks,
237-38; strength of anchor and
chains, 237; in heavy seas, 246; sea-
worthiness, 247-48; takes on friends
at Monhegan, 248; stripped for win-
ter, 248.

Bradore, 16.

Braided stream, 166.

Brant, 258.

Brant-bird. See Turnstone.

BrevoOrt Island, 133, 158, 159, 160.

British North Pole Expedition, 81, 85.

Bromfield, Abram, 41, 42, 60, 95, 115,
117, 126, 135, 156, 161, 196, 213,
216, 243.282

INDEX

Buchanan Bay, 159,163,185.

Buffon's Skua. See Jaeger, long-tailed.
Bull-bird. See Dovekie.

Bunting, snow, 261.

Burgess, Capt., 42, 245.

Burgomaster. See Gull, glaucous.
Bushnan Island, 222.

Butler, Maj., 34-35.

Bylot, Robert, 55, 68.

Cabot, John, 18, 44.

Cairn Point, 133, 185.

Calico-back. See Turnstone.

Camera, type used for motion pic-
tures, 172; one camera lost, 186.
Camp, site determined by cache of
meat, 142; by water supply, 166-
67.

Camp Clay, 126, 158, 185.

Cape Alexander Glacier, 124,144, 147.

Cape Anguille, 15.

Cape Dudley Digges, 68.

Cape Harrison, 36.

Cape Hatherton, 186, 190, 192, 193,

208, 211, 213.

Cape Morris Jesup, 90, 171.

Cape Sabine, 76, 78, 79, 88, 126, 158,
160.

Cape Sable, 10; its light, 12.

Cape Sheridan, 180.

Cape York, 66, 222.

Caribou, 103-04, 192-93.

Carnegie Institution of Washington,

8,20,26,53,101,126,224.

Cartier, Jacques, 21.

Cartwright, Capt. George, 32; quoted,
32-34.

Caziarc, Lieut. Louis V., 86, 160.
Cemetery Ridge, 126-27, 132, 159.
Chateaux Bay. See Temple Bay.
Christmas at Refuge Harbor, 118-19.
Clams, 188, 211.

Clements Markham Glacier, 137, 151.
Coal, 61, 168.

Cobb, Arthur C., 81.

Colonel. See Gull, glaucous.

Comfort Bight, 244-45.

Compass, effect of electric storms upon
the, 11; deviation in Straits of Belle
Isle, 20; variation, 100-01.

Cook, Dr. Frederick, 57-58.

Cook, Capt. James, 21.

Coolidge, Pres. Calvin, Christmas
greetings from, 120.

Cossack, the yawl, 20, 28, 30.

Craig, Dr., 79.

Crane, L. O., 20.

Crocker Land Expedition, 273-74, 279,

Croften, Ambrose, 21, 22.

Cross, Sergeant, 127.

Cross Lake, 127, 159.

Croucher, John, 23.

Crystal Palace Glacier, 136-37, 149.

Davis, John, 41-42, 47, 49, 50, 55, 63.

Davis Inlet, 41-42.

Delco plant, 99.

Denmark, restrictions of the Govern-
ment upon ships visiting ports of
Greenland, 50, 51-53, 59, 224;
courtesy and hospitality of its offi-
cials in Greenland, 53-54, 229-30,
236.

Disco Island, 61, 224.

Discoveries, early, made by accident,
43-45.'	. ;

Discovery, the ship, 161.

Dogs, number taken on the expedition,
73; miseries of life in summer, 103;
art of driving, 145, 176-77; quarrel-
some when feeding, 153; ability to
work without food, 163; fear of
water, 181; number loaded for return
trip, 2l8.

Double Island, 20, 23.

Dovekie, or little auk, 64, 140, 187,
204-05, 252, 253-54.

Duck, eider. See Eider.

Duck, long-tailed. See Old-Squaw.

Dunn's Island, 244.

Eagle, gray sea, 261.

Egede, Hans, 55, 56, 234.

Egedesminde, 226, 239.

Egg Rock lighthouse, 13.

Eider, king, 257-58.

Eider, northern, 84, 99, 196-97, 199-
200, 207; eggs, 84, 135, 143, 196,
257.

Eider Duck Island, 84, 135, 196, 200,
207.

Ekblaw, W. Elmer, 163, 164, 194, 273;
quoted, 273-79.

Ellesmere Land, 126, 161.INDEX

283

Elmwood Farm, Leominster, Mass.,
118.

Erikson, Leif, 43.

Erosion, 208-09.

Eskimos, enmity toward Indians, 24;
religion, 38; work of Moravians for,
89; evils brought by civilization, 89,
134, 141; moral character, 47-48;
national costume, 54; dancing, 55,
230; skill with the kayak, 58, 230-31,
234; degenerate types, 59T influenza
epidemic among, 66, 72, 221; hos-
pitality, 67, 137-38, 221; gifts for,
71, 220, 221, 231; food, 93, 139, 154;
construction of house for, 94, 95;
customs, beliefs, 109-14, 125, 145,
221, 254-55; intelligence, 114; visits
from, 125, 133,. 134-35; astonish-
ment at motion pictures and radio,
125; tuberculosis among, 134; care
of shoes and clbthing, 138; longevity,
139-40; bone game, 140; encamp-
ments, 141-42, 183-84; method of
storing meat, 147; method of check-
ing speed of sledges, 147; method of
repairing sledges, 148; music, 150;
indifference to weather, 151; religious
service,152; cleanliness, 152; method
of shovelling snow, 152; conjugal
love, 156; method of hunting seal,
162; dislike of snowshoes, 163; love
of killing, 176; method of sledging in
soft snow, 179; preference for warm
weather, 187; skill in netting birds,
187, 205; inability to swim, 188; sum-
mer occupations, 188; method of
hunting walrus, 188, 195; method of
removing meat from cache, 189;
preparation of meat for eating, 189-
90; standard of values, 203; sea-
sickness, 219; parting from, 221;
nosebleeding among, 222; fondness
for tobacco, 223; use of metal from
meteorites, 223; method of catching
trout, 227-28; dislike of Norwegians,
228; comparison of half-breeds with
natives, 234; method of cutting and
packing whale meat, 240; language,
262-72.

Etah, 74, 93, 107, 109, 123, 144, 146,
202; wind, 124, 135, 279; tempera-
ture, 273-74.

E-took'a-shoo, the Eskimo, 71, 72,102,
116,119,124,126,136,141,146,149,
153, 156, 158, 162, 163, 167, 168,
169, 172, 185, 190, 212, 213, 221.

Explorers, Arctic, qualifications of, 5-7.

Fairbanks, Sheldon, 9, 17r 88.

Fish and fisheries, of Labrador, 18-19,
20, 21, 24, 25, 80, 242-43; of Green-
land, 98-99, 227, 239.

Flagler Bay, 163, 164, 184.

Flowers, of Labrador, 22; of the Arctic,
193-94; of Greenland, 194; at Etah,
202.

Food, 93, 122,139, 189.

Fossils, 61-62.

Foulke Fiord, 93, 144, 219.

Fox, blue, 142, 204.

Fram, the ship, 76, 102.

Frobisher, Martin, 44.

Fulmar, 255, 256.

Garlington, Lieut., 85, 86, 160.

Geology, 19, 20, 35, 90, 93-94, 166.

Gilbert Sound, 47, 57.

Glacial fringe, 195.

Glaciers, advance of, 94, 107-09; back-
ward slopes in, 136; riding down,
137, 147.

Goddard, Richard H., 8, 31, 83, 94, 96,
101, 156, 158, 216, 218, 227; estab-
lishes magnetic station at Double
Island, 20; secures data at Battle
Harbor, 26; his work at Gready, 81;
at Godthaab, 50-51; at Etah, 81;
begins to build observatory at
Refuge Harbor, 89; makes observa-
tions at Cemetery Ridge, 159;
souvenir rock secured for, 185; has
summer quarters in tent, 187; closes
observatory, 195; character and
value of his work, 195.

Godhavn, 61, 224; scene of numerous
events in history of Arctic discovery,
225-26; wireless station, 226.

Godthaab, 47; approach to, 48; histori-
cal associations of the locality, 48-
50; reception in, 50-51; hospitality,
53-55; university, 54, 229; Moravian
missions, 56; wireless station, 226;
neighboring mountains, 239.

Gold-seekers, 31, 37.284

INDEX

Goose, greater snow, 258.

Grass, at Etah, 95, 96, 114.

Gray-back. See Knot.

Gready, 30-32.

Great Petowik Glacier, 68.

Greely, Lieut. Adolphus W., 1, 2, 85,
119, 120; story of the Greely dis-
aster, 78; rescue of, 127-32; me-
morial tablet at Cape Sabine, 158-
59; finding of his records, 159-60;
possibilities of averting the disaster,
160; his first expedition, 225-26.

Greely relief expeditions, 81, 85-86,
127-32, 225.

Green Island, 12.

Greenland, movement of ice around,
45-46; character of coast, 47, 227;
rediscovery, 47; scenery, 49, 239;
early explorers, 50; ports closed to
navigation, 50, 51-53; dress, 54, 202;
missions, 55-56; attempt at coloni-
zation, 55; physical characteristics
in Carboniferous Period, 62; flora,
194; Danish officials, 224; oldest
church, 230; sports, 234-35; its
Sabbath, 241.

Greenly Island, 16, 19.

Grenfell, Dr. Wilfred T., 26, 35, 244.

Grinnell Expedition, 70.

Guillemot, Mandt's, 187, 201-02, 252,
253.

Gull, glaucous, or burgomaster, 180,
184, 187, 197, 200, 251, 255.

Gull, herring, 255.

Gull, ivory, 254.

Gull, Sabine's, 255.

Gyrfalcon, 180, 220, 260.

Hall, Charles Francis, 44, 55, 74, 122,
225.

Hans Island, 200.

Hare, Arctic, 81, 95, 97, 149, 150, 155,
168.

Hawk, speckled partridge. See Gyr-
falcon.

Hayes, Dr. Isaac Israel, 93, 194, 225.

Health, maintenance of, 121-22.

Henley Harbor, 20.

Herbert Island, 136, 220.

Holstenborg, 228-36.

Hooker, Dr. Joseph D.» 194.

Hopedale, 38-39.

Hounds. See Old-squaw.

Ice, hardness and specific gravity, 29;
weight, 29, 77; crushing power, 29,
160-61, 208; character of polar ice,
45; flotation, 77; advance throughout
the North, 94; breaking up, 193,
201-02, 208, 209, 213; wearing down
the land, 208; thickness, 209-10;
freezing and melting, 209-10; sawed
to release the Bowdoin, 214, 218.

Ice, drift, 42, 222.

Ice, pack, 28, 45, 208.

Icebergs, borderland of, 9; in Straits of
Belle Isle, 19; great numbers of, 28,
45; floe bergs, 46; in Melville Bay,
64; in Peabody Bay, 194-95; at
Cape York, 222.

Ice-bird. See Dovekie.

Ice-partridge. See Gull, ivory.

Igloo, method of construction, 142-
43.

Ig-loo-da-houny, 71, 72.

Indian Harbor, 35-36, 244.

Jaeger, long-tailed, 254.

Jaeger, parasitic, 254.

James, Capt. Thomas, 102.

Jaynes, John, 8, 37, 60, 80, 91, 92, 93,
95, 102, 115, 116, 117, 158, 159, 193,
197, 211, 212, 216, 220, 237, 238.

Jiddy-hawk. See Jaeger, parasitic.

John Down. See Fulmar.

Julianehaab, 226.

Kah-ko-tchee'a, the Eskimo, 72, 73, 92,
95, 103, 107, 115, 124, 126, 140, 146,
147,149,153,156,158,162,168,169,
178,185,193,195,196, 200, 201, 205,
206, 221.

Kah-na, 220.

Kane, Dr. Elisha Kent, 70, 74, 84, 85,
86, 88, 119, 161, 194, 200, 225.

Kane Basin, 88, 90, 208, 213.

Kanga, the Eskimo, 72, 103, 104, 107,
109.

Kangek, 238-39.

Kangerdluasuk, 227.

Kendall, Dr. W. C., 203.

Kiatak, 221.

King Oscar Land, 171.

Kittiwake, 254-55.INDEX

285

Ki-wee'a, the Eskimo, 161, 190, 197,
212, 221.

.Knapp, Dr., 26.

Knot, 259.

Kood-look'to, the Eskimo, 146, 149,
222.

Koo-e-tig'e-to, the Eskimo, 125, 158,
161,162,168,169,178,179,183,185,
195, 196, 220.

Labrador, character of the coast, 15,
19, 28, 47, 243; birds, 17, 25; its
successive names, 18; fish and fish-
eries, 18-19, 20-21, 24-25, 30, 242-
43; explorations and settlements, 21-
22, 24, 40; missions and missionaries,
21, 26, 35, 39, 141; flora, 22-23; old-
est buildings, 24; nomenclature of
the coast line, 24-26, 32; fauna, 25;
its first motion-picture theater, 26;
gold fields, 31; last seen on northern
trip, 42-43; coast sighted on return
trip, 241.

Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, 1, 78.

Lewis, William, 8, 60, 216, 248.

Lickelels. See Kittiwake.

Lievely. See Godhavn.

Lighthouses, value to navigators, 12,
238.

Littleton Island, 84-85, 195, 201, 207.

Lone Point Village, 17.

Loon, 252.

Loon, red-throated, 252.

McClintock, Sir Leopold, 36, 65.

MacCormick, Austin, 1.

McCue, Thomas J., 7, 37, 60, 95, 102,
115,190,193,194,214,215.

McDonald, E. F., Jr., 9, 17, 27, 120.

McGary's Rock, 197.

Magnetic needle, 100.

Magnetic observations, at Camp Clay,
158; on Cemetery Ridge, 159.

Magnetic poles, 100.

Magnetic stations, on Double Island,
20; at Godthaab, 50-51; at Refuge
Harbor, 89, 99, 101.

Magnetism, terrestrial, 99-100, 195.

Mallemuke. See Fulmar. ,

Maxim, Hiram, 1.

Melville Bay, 63-66, 223.

Meteorite Island, 223.

Meteorological observations, 89-90, 91.

Metik, the Eskimo, 138.

Miranda, the ship, 57-58.

Missionaries, 17, 21, 26, 39, 55, 56,119,
141.

Mix, Donald, 8-9, 60, 83, 96, 117, 187,
193,216,227.

Mollimoke. See Fulmar.

Molly. See Fulmar.

Monhegan Island, 2-5, 248.

Moonlight in the North, 106.

Moravian Brethren, 21, 39, 56.

Morris Jesup Glacier, 73, 136.

Motion pictures shown, at first theater
on Labrador, 26; at Hopedale, 40;
at Godthaab, 53-54; on Thanksgiving
night, 116; on Sunday nights, 122;
at Nerky, 220; at Herbert Island,
220 ; at Northumberland Island, 221;
at Holstenborg, 230, 231-32.

Motion pictures taken, of Eskimo life
at Nerky, 146; of party at Greely
tablet, 159; of young seal, 201; of
walrus, 214; of bird life at Ak-pat,
222. ■ >

Murchison Sound, 220.

Murre, Brunnich's, 188, 222, 253.

Musk-ox calf, capture of, 174-75.

Musk-oxen, 161, 169-75, 176, 191-92;
police station at Cape Sabine for pro-
tection of, 79.

Nansen, Fridtjof, 48, 76, 105, 228.

Nares, Capt. G. S., 85.

Nares cairn, 159.

Narssak, 48.

Narwhal, 197, 199.

National Geographic Society, 78, 120,
159.

Navigation, in uncharted waters, 29;
of early explorers, 43-45; in waters
lying north and south, 45.

Neilson, H. Blicher, 229, 236.

Nerky, 73, 136, 137, 140, 146,147,151,
220.

Newfoundland, 245.

Night, Arctic, 105, 118.

Noddy. See Fulmar.

Noo'ka-ping'wa, the Eskimo, 158, 197,
202, 211.

Norsemen, as navigators, 43-44; lost
colony of, in Greenland, 49.286

INDEX

North American Newspaper Alliance,
9,98.

Northumberland Island, 71, 136, 221.

Occupations, in winter, 122.

Oil, 14, 94,114,124,198, 220, 237, 247.

Old Injun. See Old-squaw.

Old-squaw, 256-57.

Olsen, Jens John F., 141, 144, 145.

Oo-dee, the Eskimo, 206.

Oo'tah, the Eskimo, 125, 161.

Owl, snowy, 102, 260.

Paddon, Dr., 35.

Palliser, Sir Hugh, 21.

Pandora, the ship, 81, 85.

Pandora Harbor, 80-81.

Panikpak, the Eskimo, 75, 79, 135.
Pathe Company, 122.

Patterson, William D., 1.

Payer Harbor, 76, 126, 133, 159.
Peabody Bay, 194.

Peary, Comdr. Robert E., 35, 65, 72,
74, 75,93,122,126,146,159,223,225;
quoted, 146.

Perritt, Mr. and Mrs., 40, 244.
Perroquet. Island, 17.

Peru, the brig, 228.

Peteravik, 92, 137-38.

Peters, William J., 26.

Peterson, K. Honore, 239.

Phalarope, red, 258-59.

Pierce, Capt. Frank, 3-4.

Pierce Company, S. S., 118.

Pigeon, sea. See Guillemot, Mandt's.
Pine Knot. See Dovekie.

Pitt's Harbor, 21, 22.

Plover, chicken. See Turnstone.

Plover, red-legged. See Turnstone.
Plover, ringed, 259.

Plover, rock. See Turnstone.

Point Amour, 19.

Polaris, the ship, 85, 135, 161, 207.

Solaris Beach, 135, 207.

Pole, North, 35, 75, 100, 146.

Porpoise, 242.

Pressure ridges, 160.

Proteus, the ship, 2, 81, 85-86, 161.

Provision Point, 79, 94, 201, 206.

Ptarmigan, 95, 97, 102, 114, 259-60.

Puffin, 17, 252.

Pug. See Kittiwake*

Radio, gift of equipment, 9; pole of
Smoky Tickle, 35; set for mission at
Hopedale, 40; Bowdoin's antenna
broken, 58; report of arrival at
Refuge Harbor, 91; communications
with British Columbia and the
United States, 98; church services
from Nebraska and Iowa, 103; radio-
grams received, 115; programmes
from Chicago, 115; Christmas enter-
tainment and messages, 119-20;
causes astonishment to Eskimos, 125;
inactive during summer, 197; sta-
tions in Greenland, 226; communica-
tion with Norwegian whaler, 226;
information for round-the-world fly-
ers heard, 226; Mr. Perritt's set re-
paired, 244; station on Dunn's Island,
244.

Raleigh, British warship, 19.

Rasmussen, Knud, his trading station
at North Star Bay, 70; his trading
schooner sighted, 236.

Raven, northern, 102, 260-61.

Red Bay, 19-20.

Redpoll, Greenland, 261.

Reed, Dr. Chester, 165.

Reed Glacier, 165, 181.

Refuge Harbor, 88, 90, 101, 192, 208;
stay at, 88-219; winter occupations
at, 122; temperature, 273.

Relics, preservation of, 82.

Robin, beach. See Knot.

Robinson, Ralph, 7-8, 37, 60, 80, 117,
158,159,186,190,193,194, 200, 201,
202, 206, 216, 218.

Rockweed bird. See Sandpiper, purple.

Roosevelt, the ship, 16, 124, 161.

Ross, Capt. John, 66, 67, 262.

Rotch. See Dovekie.

Rotchie. See Dovekie.

Rotge. See Dovekie.

Royal Greenland Trading Company,
228, 239.

Saglek Bay, 241-42.

Sagona, mail boat, 37, 42.

St. Paul's Island, 247.

Salmon, 20, 228.

Sambro Island, 10, 247.

Samuels, Capt. Samuel, 84.

i Sandpiper, ash-colored. See Knot.INDEX

287

Sandpiper, Baird's, 259.

Sandpiper, purple, 259.

Sandpiper, red-breasted. See Knot.
Sandy Bay, 16-17.

Schley, Comdr. Winfield S., 86, 159-
60.

Sea canary, 199.

Sea-dove. See Dovekie.

Sea-duck. See Eider, northern.
Sea-goose. See Phalarope, red.
Sea-pigeon. See Guillemot.
Sea-swallow. See Tern, Arctic.

Seal, 162-63, 190-91, 192, 201.

Seal, bearded, 95, 96, 191.

Seal, hood, 191, 192.

Seal, ringed, 191.

Seal Island Light, 11, 12.

Seasons in the Arctic, 274, 276.

Seniff, mail boat, 31, 37, 42.

Sewall Harbor, 87.

Ship Harbor, 13.

Simiutak, 58-59.

Simony, Christian, 51, 53, 239.

Smith Sound, historical events as-
sociated with the locality, 74, 84-86;
a comparatively open sea, 123, 213;
crossed, 126, 158, 161, 162.

Snail, winged, 99.

Snipe, checkered. See Turnstone.
Snipe, robin, See Knot.

Snipe, rock. See Sandpiper, purple.
Snow, red, 67.

Sonntag Bay, 141, 144.

South Southerly. See Old-squaw.

Stag Bay, 31.

Stalknecht Island, 160.

Sulwuddy, 135, 144.

Sun, midnight, 62.

Sunrise Point, 80.

Sverdrup, Johan, 48, 76, 164.

Sydney, Cape Breton, 13, 14, 247.
Sylvia II, the schooner, 31, 34, 35.

Teal, green-winged, 256.

Teaser. See Jaeger, parasitic.
Temperature of air, 121, 122-23, 126,
136, 145; daily and monthly aver-
ages, 273,274-75; maximum and min-
imum, 273-76; effect of the sea upon,

274, 276; seasonal averages, 276; ef-
fect of snow and ice upon, 276;
effect of open water upon, 277.

Temperature of water in Polar seas,
209.

Temple Bay, 21-22.

Tern, Arctic, 255-56.

Thanksgiving at Refuge Harbor, 115-
16.

Thetis, the ship, 160.

Thule, 274, 276.

Tidal creek, 163.

Time signal, 35.

Trout, 37, 99, 180, 199, 203-04, 227.

Turnavik, 37-38.

Turnstone, 259.

United States Fish Commission, 203.

United States Weather Bureau, 90.

Vocabulary, Anglo-Eskimo, 262-72.

Walrus, hunt, 82, 96-97, 211-13, 214;
abundance of, 92, 208; in fresh water,
93; method of hunting, 188, 195;
prey of polar bear, 191; its food,
211; its swimming speed, 211.

Water, 60, 80, 116.

Watering Cove, 30.

Weather, 10, 12, 13, 15, 17, 34, 36, 38,
45, 83, 84, 91, 92, 118, 121, 133, 136,
148-50, 151-53, 158, 159, 167, 175,
185, 214, 227, 236-38, 241, 246, 247.

Webeck Island, 36.

Whale, finback, 2-3.

Whale, humpback, 239-40, 242.

Whale, varieties on the Labrador
coast, 243.

Whale, white, 94, 197-99.

Whale-bird. See Fulmar; Phalarope,
red.

Whaling, 21, 60, 225, 239, 242.

Wheatear, Greenland, 261.

Wind, 124, 135, 279.

Wiscasset, Me., 1, 248.

Wiscasset Cove, 219.

Wolf, white, 161, 168-69.

Young, Sir Allen, 81, 85.KANE

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