Part 3

In February her mother sent letters for the dear ones at home, by the Eskimos, to a place where the whaling ships would stop on their way to catch the big black whales. Then, if the old “Windward” should be held by the ice until it was too late to return home the coming summer, the grandmothers and uncles and aunt would know that all were well, and did not return because the ship could not get out of the ice.

AH-NI-GHI´-TO sent this letter home:

_February_ 21, 1901.

MY DEAR GROSSY AND TANTE AND UNCLE,—I am afraid you will be worried not to hear from me for so long a time, so I take this first chance to write this letter to you. I will come to see you soon, I hope. I want to see you all very much. I play on the ice every day and have a fine time with Billy and the Eskimo children. We have been in the ice for ever so many days. We have had a good time most always, but I want to see you all.

I will tell you how I spent my Christmas. A week before, we began to get ready for the holidays. Mother baked a whole stack of raisin loaves and cut fifteen stockings out of some canopy lace, and I worked them round with red worsted. These we filled with dates, peanuts, chocolates, home-made taffy, mixed candy, a silver dollar, popcorn, prunes, and oranges.

At eight o’clock on Christmas eve I went down into the forecastle with Charley and gave each man half a loaf of raisin cake, and a big pot of chocolate for all. They cheered and clapped and I left them to enjoy their feast.

I played parchesi with mother and the Captain until ten o’clock, then I hung up my stocking and went to bed.

In the morning it was full. I jumped out of bed and found in it several pieces of money, two pieces of pink ribbon, a book, a paper doll and her dresses, and a box of chocolates. I was delighted, and could only wish father and Grossy and tante and uncle were here to see how happy I am.

While on deck a little later, playing with the Eskimo children and Billy, Maksangwah handed me a lovely card and a box of beads from Mr. Warmbath.

About two P. M. mother called to me that it was time to invite all hands down into the cabin to get their Christmas stockings.

When we all came down, there, in the middle of the table blazed a beautiful Christmas tree, which Mr. Warmbath had made for me as a surprise. It looked as if it had just been cut in the woods, and yet he made every bit of it. I will tell you how.

First he made a skeleton tree, using a broomstick for the trunk and making the branches out of heavy wire; then he covered the wire with softened wax, until some of the branches were one half an inch thick and others not so big. Some wax was also put on the broomstick, and when trunk and branches were entirely covered with wax, they were all thickly sprinkled with coffee-grounds, well pressed into the wax. This made them look just like the branches of a pine tree without its needles. Next he took some hay and laid it out straight on a box and painted it green. When the paint was dry he cut it into pieces about as long as pine needles and with melted wax stuck them all over the branches of the tree. It looked so real that I thought I could smell the lovely pine woods at home.

All around the tree mother had put the stockings. It was a fine sight.

The tree was trimmed in chains made of popcorn, and some of tin-foil, cornucopias, “silver dollars,” and two dozen candles.

The Eskimos were very sober at first because they thought we were worshipping it, but when they saw us laughing and I gave each a stocking, they too shouted and laughed and said “peuk! peuk!” many times. Mother gave them cake and coffee, and I tried to tell them that trees like this grew in the ground where the white man lived; but this they did not believe, and said, “Oh, you can’t fool us, we saw Mr. Warmbath make this one.”

For our Christmas dinner we had roast beef (canned), stewed tomatoes (canned), dandelion greens and corn (canned), and baked beans. Then plum pudding with sauce.

After dinner we had songs and games, and for a little while I quite forgot that I was thousands of miles away from home and hundreds of miles from any other white people. Mother and I had been invited to take tea with Captain Sam in the forward saloon, and we spent a pleasant evening. I wondered if father had a good Christmas and if he was coming to us soon. This is the first real Christmas tree celebration the natives have ever seen, and I am sure they will never forget it.

So you see I had a good time, only I wanted you all to be with me too. I send you much love and many, many kisses.

Your loving

SNOWBABY.

X

The holidays over, everything went on as usual. AH-NI-GHI´-TO took walks with her mother and some of the Eskimos nearly every day. Once in climbing a steep slope of hard snow AH-NI-GHI´-TO began to slip and could not stop herself. It was very far to the bottom and she was badly frightened, but one of the Eskimo boys ran to her, and digging his feet into the hard snow far enough to catch his heels and keep himself steady, he held on to her until she too had made a place in the snow for her heels. Then together they carefully picked their way off the slippery slope to where the snow was soft and their feet sank into it.

Another time they walked farther than they intended, and the moon went behind the clouds, leaving it quite dark. In taking a short cut they came to a slope which, in the dim light, looked as if it were not very steep, and they decided to sit down and slide; but no sooner was AH-NI-GHI´-TO seated than away she shot out of sight, the others following her so quickly that no one was able to give the warning. It was a good thing that there was a bed of soft snow at the bottom, into which the youngsters tumbled.

There was a little daylight every day after January 15th, yet the sun did not really shine on the “Windward” until February 21st.

The days kept getting longer and longer; that is, the sun rose earlier and set later each day until on March 21st, Spring’s opening, he shone from 6 o’clock in the morning until 6 o’clock in the evening and there was daylight all night long. Strange to say, it was now very much colder than it had been while it was dark. But no one minded the cold as long as the sun shone.

The Eskimos from across Smith Sound came oftener to visit the ship, and every time they brought AH-NI-GHI´-TO either fur mittens or stockings or kamiks; and what pleased her most, numbers of children came with them. She wrote:

“When Achatinǵwah and I came in from coasting to-day, we found eight sledges with Eskimos had come over from Etah, and oh, there are so many children I know we are going to have a good time.

“Three of the women have tiny babies in their hoods. One of them was brought to the mother just before she started for the ship. It is much uglier than the others. Its head wobbles back and forth against its mother’s bare shoulder. She carries it all naked, except for a little tight fur cap and a short fox-skin shirt, in a hood on her back right next her bare skin, which helps keep it warm. Its eyes are never open, and it makes me think of a young kitten.

“The other two must be older, for they can hold up their heads, and they have their eyes open all the time when they are awake.

“When the mothers want to feed them they take the little naked things out of the hoods, without covering them—right out on deck in the cold, and the babies don’t seem to mind it at all. Then there are some little boys. I shall get Billy to wash them to-morrow so I can play with them.

“They all have black hair and big black eyes and white teeth and such little flat noses, and they wear the funniest little short trousers made of bear-skin, with tiny fur-lined boots and big fox-skin coats. I could laugh every time I look at them.

“Achatinǵwah told me all about the sun and moon to-day. Ever so many years ago, longer than the oldest Eskimos can remember, a girl ran out of an igloo with a piece of lighted moss in her hand. Her brother ran after her with a larger piece of moss. They ran so long they ran right up into the sky, where the girl became the moon and her brother the sun. Isn’t it funny? We say there is a man in the moon; the Eskimos think it is a girl.”

XI

March went and April came, with “April Fool’s Day” and Easter, of which, of course, AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S Eskimo friends knew nothing.

During April there were many pleasant days, and AH-NI-GHI´-TO and her mother were out most of the time.

The Eskimos crossed Smith Sound to the open water off the Greenland shore, where the walrus were plentiful and where most of the tribe gather every spring for the hunt. Each family builds a snow igloo, and there they stay and hunt and feast until the breaking up of the ice warns them that if they wish to return to their settlement before the next autumn they must move on.

Only one family and an orphan boy remained with the ship. This boy was the son of Magipsu, the seamstress who sewed for AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S mother the first time she came to the Snowland, and whom she found dying two years later.

This poor little fellow had also lost his father since then and was all alone. No one in particular took care of him, but if he needed clothing the family who could best spare it gave it to him, and his food he got wherever he happened to be.

Koodluk´too, or “Good luck to you” as Charley called him, and AH-NI-GHI´-TO became great friends, and AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S mother said he could stay on the ship and she would take care of him as long as she remained in the Snowland.

This gave AH-NI-GHI´-TO a constant companion and guide; for he knew the feeding places of the hare and the fox, and the nesting places of the Eider duck, the Brant Goose, and other birds whose eggs would be a very welcome change on the bill of fare.

Though young, Koodluk’too, like all the Eskimo boys, could drive dogs, and he and AH-NI-GHI´-TO had frequent rides drawn by six or eight dogs that looked for all the world like wolves. She wrote:

“_April 28._

A beautiful day, and I have had such fun. Koodluk’too took me out sledge-riding way round Elephant Head and back. The dogs were not used to pulling together, so that we did not always go where we wanted to.

“As the dogs are guided by the whip and not with reins like our horses, it kept poor Koodluk’too’s arm going all the time, and he got so excited when they would not obey him that he cut me over the head and round the neck as he swung the whip over his shoulder. But my fur hood is so thick that it did not hurt me at all. It made him feel badly because he says the men don’t do that and he ought to know better.

“I thought he would surely be hoarse, for he kept shouting to the dogs all the time.

“Once when we crossed a fox’s track on the ice the dogs started off in a gallop to follow it, and the only way Koodluk’too could stop them was to steer the sledge up against a big lump of solid ice. It gave me a fearful bump and would have thrown me off if he had not warned me to hold tight.

“The dogs look very pretty when they are going along. Each one has his bushy tail laid up on his back like a feather duster.

“It is fine sport to skim over the smooth ice, but I don’t believe I should like to ride all day long.”

Before leaving, one of the Eskimo men gave AH-NI-GHI´-TO a puppy with which she and Koodluk’too had great sport. She was reddish-brown in colour and AH-NI-GHI´-TO named her “Cinnamon,” but called her “Cin” for short. She was full of mischief and was known to the sailors as “Sinful.”

On May 5th AH-NI-GHI´-TO coaxed her mother to have cake baked, so that she could feast her friends the next day, it being her father’s birthday. All day she was busy with Charley getting her feast ready, and when night came she was glad to climb into her bunk and go to sleep. She did not dream that something great would happen before breakfast the next day.

The next evening she wrote in her diary:

“_May 6._ It seemed as though I had only just closed my eyes when I was awakened by Mother, who was sitting up in bed calling, ‘Charley, Charley, unlock the cabin door quickly, Mr. Peary has come.’ At first I thought she was dreaming, but a second later I heard some one rattling at the cabin door, while Charley, half asleep, was trying to unlock it. Then a great giant all dressed in bear and deer skins was coming toward the bed asking for his baby, and here was Father really and truly, safe and well, and on his birthday too; glory, glory, now we could really celebrate, and Mother knew his step even when she was asleep. Dear old Dad, he looks the same. Of course we got right up and dressed, while Father took his bath, and at five o’clock in the morning our whole family sat down to breakfast together, for the first time in three years. The day has been a holiday for every one on board.”

XII

After AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S father returned, the time fairly flew.

Ahnǵoodloo and Billy Bah were among the Eskimos who returned with AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S father, and they now joined AH-NI-GHI´-TO and Koodluk´too in their play.

AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S father said he would not return home this summer, but would remain another year and once more try to reach the North Pole.

During all the long winter months, while AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S home had been on the “Windward,” the old ship had been as steady as a house on shore, for she was held firmly by the ice and could not move. But on June 7th, while AH-NI-GHI´-TO was at dinner with her parents, they were surprised to hear a loud creaking noise and at the same time feel the ship quiver and then roll slightly from side to side.

“We are free,” said AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S father; “the old ‘Windward’ has broken out of her winter berth and longs to be off again.” Everybody rushed on deck, and surely enough the old ship was afloat once more.

But the ice had only melted away from her sides, leaving her without a support. Nowhere else did it seem inclined to break away, so that while the “Windward” was afloat she was still a prisoner in the ice.

By the middle of June the sea ice was covered with pools of water, and it was no easy task to get ashore from the ship without getting the feet wet. Snow buntings (our snowbirds) were flitting about the rocks, and small tufts of green grass were to be seen here and there.

The Eskimos harpooned some narwhal out at the edge of the ice, and AH-NI-GHI´-TO is perhaps the only little white girl who ever saw these strange Arctic sea animals, with their long white ivory horns and huge tails.

It was now decided to help free the ship by having the men saw a road through the ice to the open water beyond.

Saws eight and ten feet long were used, and for weeks the sawing went on.

Sometimes a bottle filled with gunpowder was let down under the ice through a hole that had been drilled, and the long fuse that had been fastened to it was lighted. When the fire reached the powder it exploded; but although it cracked the ice for a little distance, very little was broken off.

During this time AH-NI-GHI´-TO was over on the island with Koodluk´too and Billy Bah every day, gathering eggs, which were plentiful now.

The ducks lay their eggs on the ledges of the rocks, in nests made of the down which they pluck from their breasts.

As hundreds of the birds had their nests on this island, it was not necessary to take the eggs from the same nest twice, and this left enough eggs for the birds to breed.

One day a great windstorm swept down from the north and broke off all the ice which had been cracked by the blasting and carried it out of the harbour. Only a small pan of one-year-old ice was left between the ship and the open water.

The fires were started under the boiler, and with the help of the saws and the steam, the ship soon pushed out the remaining ice, and on July 3rd, with every living creature in the settlement on board (not forgetting about seventy-five dogs), the “Windward” steamed out of the little harbour where she had been lying for ten months, and reached Littleton Island on the opposite shore that evening.

The next day was Fourth of July, and it was decided to have a holiday.

The ship was dressed in her flags, and all who wanted to go went shooting birds or hunting walrus.

AH-NI-GHI´-TO did neither of these things, but she had a happy day and in her diary tells about it:

“_July 4, 1901._—A beautiful day. Warm, bright, and sunshiny. The Eskimo men and most of the sailors went out after breakfast to see what they could find, and came in at four o’clock with one hundred and twenty-five ducks, three barrels of eggs, and two walrus. The eggs will be packed away for father’s use in the fall. Mother, father, Percy, and I have been ashore gathering flowers and playing tag and having a fine old-time. Dinner at five o’clock, and then I heard mother and father planning to walk across the country to Etah while Captain Sam took the ‘Windward’ around there. I coaxed them to let me go with them. Mother said I could not walk it because there would be so much climbing to do, but father said, ‘Let her try it. I believe she can do it.’ At half-past seven father had two of the sailors put us ashore and with our kapetahs (fox-skin coats) over our arms we started off. Over the rocks we went—up one side, down the other side, of the cliffs. In some places my feet went into the wet moss above my ankles. The steep, hard snowbanks gave me lots of tumbles. In one place we had to climb around the high steep walls of a cliff with the icy water dashing against them twelve feet below. Father said it was about twelve feet, but I thought it was twenty-five. If I had fallen I should have had the coldest bath I ever had. We had to wade through some of the shallow brooks, and they were cold enough for me. I was very tired, but I had made up my mind not to say a word about it. It took us two hours, and father said we had walked about six miles; but we beat the ‘Windward,’ for when we got to the Igloos at Etah, she was just coming round the point, and that pleased me, for now I could tease Captain Sam. As soon as the ‘Windward’ got in, mother and I went on board, and mother rubbed me down, gave me a cup of cocoa, and put me to bed, too tired to write up my diary; but I wrote it up this morning so the home folks will know what I did on the glorious Fourth.”

XIII

From Etah the “Windward” steamed to Northumberland Island, where the Eskimo women, children (except Koodluk´too), and dogs, with a few of the old men, were landed with their tents and enough food to last them a few weeks.

The ship with the rest on board started for a walrus hunt.

AH-NI-GHI´-TO’S father wanted to get packed away as much meat as possible, with which to feed his natives and dogs during the coming winter. AH-NI-GHI´-TO herself tells how these huge animals were hunted.

“For the last ten days we have been hunting walrus. The walrus is a large animal which lives in the water, but like the whale it cannot breathe under water. It comes to the surface and fills its lungs with air by taking deep breaths, then it closes its nose tight and goes under, where it can stay many minutes without breathing.

“They love to crawl upon the pans of ice when the sun shines, warming themselves and sleeping for hours at a time. It is then the hunters go after them. The walrus are hunted with both gun and harpoon.

“Father sends out each boat with one or two white men and their rifles, and four Eskimos with harpoons and floats. They row toward the pan of ice where the walrus are asleep, coming up to them from the side where the wind blows from the walrus to the boat. If they came from the other side the walrus would smell them even in their sleep. When the boat is close enough each Eskimo throws his harpoon at a walrus, and all the walrus slide off the ice into the water. Those struck by the natives have the harpoon head fastened in their skin with a line to it. The other end of the line is fastened to a float. Now the boat follows them, and every time the walrus comes up to breathe one of the men with the rifles tries to shoot him. They are very hard to kill because the hide is so thick and tough and the fat is so thick under it. Sometimes if the walrus are full grown they get mad and make for the boat, which they try to upset with their ivory tusks. Even if they don’t upset the boat they often put their tusks right through it, and frighten the Eskimos very much; and I guess the white men are scared too, only they won’t say so. After a walrus is killed the float is left fastened to him and we come along in the ship and hoist him on board. He is not a pretty animal but very large, and the meat is the best food for the dogs. The walrus weighs more than a thousand pounds, but his ears are tiny holes in his head, so small I can just put my finger into one. But his mustache is terrible. I am glad father’s is not like it. The bristles are as big around as one of mother’s knitting needles, but only as long as my finger, and the ends are very sharp. I wonder if Mrs. Walrus kisses him sometimes. Mother said she thought not. After father gets about twenty-five walrus on board we steam alongside of some large ice floe and all the animals are put on the ice and cut up. This saves the mess on deck. The meat and skin and blubber are kept separate, and packed away for dog food in the winter when everything is frozen. When father has seventy-five walrus cut up he says, ‘We will go back to Cape Sabine, if we can, and land the meat and start all over again.’ I hope we won’t get caught in the ice if we go.”

About the middle of July there were nearly ten thousand pounds of clear meat on board, and as the weather was fine it was thought best to take the “Windward” back to her winter home and there land the meat.

This was done without meeting any ice; but after reaching the little harbour the wind blew a gale for several hours.

AH-NI-GHI´-TO was on shore during this time and wrote about it in her diary.