CHAPTER XI

SLEDGE JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF

The Start from Redcliffe—Our Team—Temporary Village on Northumberland Island—A Crazy Woman—A Never-to-be-forgotten Night in a Native Snow-igloo—From the Snow village to Keati—Across Whale Sound to Netchiolumy—An Eskimo Metropolis—Aged Dames—From Netchiolumy to Ittiblu—Midnight Glories—The Solitary Habitation at Ittiblu and its Inhabitants—My Coldest Sleep in Greenland—Nauyahleah, the Ancient Gossip—A Native Graveyard—From Ittiblu to the Head of Inglefield Gulf—Meeting with a Traveling-party.

Monday, April 18. Having completed our arrangements for a week’s exploration of Inglefield Gulf, we started from Redcliffe about noon with the large dog-sledge, drawn by six dogs and driven by Kyo.

The day was very bright, and the sun shone warm all the time. The traveling as far as Cape Cleveland was good, but then it began to grow heavy, and before we had gone half-way across there were places where the dogs sank in to their bellies and almost swam, while we sank down to our knees in a semi-slush; the sledges, however, went along nicely. Fortunately, there were only a few such places, and as we got near the west end of Herbert Island the ice became smoother and harder, and the dogs sped along, two of us riding at a time, and sometimes all three.

Our sledge reached the west end of Herbert Island at eight o’clock, and two hours later, having crossed over to Northumberland Island, we came upon a cantonment of four snow-igloos. These were occupied by families from different settlements, who congregated here to be near a patch of open water a short distance off, where they caught seal. The largest snow-igloo was occupied by Tahtara, his wife, his father and mother, and some small children. This was put at our disposal; another was occupied by Ikwa and family, together with Kyoshu and his son, while Myah and his wife were accommodated in a third. The mistress of the remaining igloo was making an awful noise and trying to come out of her habitation, while a man was holding her back and talking to her, but she screamed and struggled so long as we remained where she could see us. I asked Mané what was the nature of the trouble, and she told me that the woman was pi-blocto (mad).

As the wind was blowing fiercely and the air was thick with drifting snow, Mr. Peary urged me to come into the igloo, which I did, rather to please him than to get out of the storm. Now as long as I have been in this country I have never entered an Eskimo hut; hearing about the filth and vermin was quite enough for me. But Mr. Peary said the snow-house was much cleaner, etc., etc., and seeing that it really made him uncomfortable to have me stay outside, I yielded. Can I ever describe it? First I crawled through a hole and along a passage, about six feet, on my hands and knees; this was level with the snow outside. Then I came to a hole at the end of the passage and in the top of it, which seemed hardly large enough for me to get my head through, and through which I could see numberless legs. Mr. Peary called for me to come, so the legs moved to one side and I wedged myself into the aperture and climbed into a circular place about five feet high, the floor of which, all of snow, was about two feet higher than that of the tunnel. A platform one and a half feet above this floor, and perhaps four feet wide in the middle and two and a half feet at the sides, ran all around the walls of the igloo, except that part in which the aperture or door came up in the floor. The middle of this platform for about five feet was the bed, and it was covered with two or three tooktoo skins, which almost crawled away, they were so very much alive. On this bed sat Tahtara’s mother, tailor-fashion, with a child on her back; another woman, younger by far, and rather pretty, his wife; and two children, about six and eight years old; and on the edge, with his feet resting on a chunk of walrus, from which some hungry ones helped themselves whenever they wanted to, regardless of the fact that a number of feet had been wiped on it, and that it was not only frozen solid but perfectly raw, sat Tahtara himself, smiling and saying, “Yess, yess,” to everything that Mr. Peary said to him. Mr. Peary had also taken a seat on the edge of this bed, and the women immediately made room for me between them; but this was more than I could submit to, so, excusing myself by saying that my clothing was wet from the drifting snow and that I could not think of getting their bedding wet, I sat down, not without a shiver, on the edge beside Mr. Peary, selfishly keeping him between the half-naked women and myself.

The sides of this platform on either side of the doorway were devoted to two ikkimers (stoves), one of which was tended by Tahtara’s mother and the other by his wife. These stoves were very large and filled with chunks of blubber; over each hung a pan, made of soapstone, containing snow and water, and above these pans were racks or crates, fastened very securely, on which the inmates flung their wet kamiks, stockings, mittens, and birdskin shirts. The drippings of dirt, water, and insects fell invariably into the drinking-water. I say “drinking-water”; they have no water for any other purpose. Mr. Peary had put our Florence oil-stove on the side platform and was heating water for our tea. Fortunately our teapot had a cover on it, which I made my business to keep closed.

Besides the persons mentioned there were always as many husky visitors as could possibly pack in without standing on one another. These took turns with those unable to get in, so that after one had been in a while and gazed at the circus, he would lower himself through the trap and make way for a successor among the many crouching in the passageway behind him. This was kept up throughout the night. Of course the addition of our stove, together with the visitors, brought the temperature up rapidly, and to my dismay the Eskimo ladies belonging to the house took off all of their clothing except their necklaces of sinishaw, just as unconcernedly as though no one were present.

The odor of the place was indescribable. Our stove did not work properly and gave forth a pungent smell of kerosene; the blubber in the other stoves sizzled and sometimes smoked; and the huskies—well, suffice it to say that was a decidedly unpleasant atmosphere in which I spent the night.

I soon found that if I kept my feet on the floor they would freeze, and the only way I could keep them off the floor was to draw up my knees and rest the side of one foot on the edge of the platform and place the other upon it. In this way, and leaning on my elbow, I sat from ten at night until ten in the morning, dressed just as I was on the sledge. I made the best of the situation, and pretended to Mr. Peary that it was quite a lark.

Mr. Peary went out to look after the dogs several times during the night, and each time reported that the wind was still blowing fiercely and the snow drifting. In the morning the wind had subsided somewhat, and after coffee the dogs were hitched, and we resumed our journey, heading for Keati.

After traveling about an hour we came upon a single stone igloo, which proved to be Nipzangwa’s; he and his father, old Kulutunah, immediately came out to meet us. We reached Keati, the inhabitants of which had been apprised in advance of our coming by special messenger, about noon, and an hour later, reinforced with additional dogs, started across the Sound for the settlement on Barden Bay (Netchiolumy). Ikwa followed with his dogs and sledge. The traveling was fine, and the dogs took our sledge, with all three of us riding, along at a trot all the way. We arrived at our destination about six P. M., the odometer registering 14.4 miles from Keati.

Here we found a great many natives, probably sixty, most of whom we had already seen at Redcliffe during the winter. In addition to the regular inhabitants of the place there were a half-dozen families from Cape York and its vicinity, who were stopping in snow-igloos on their way home from Redcliffe. The winter is their visiting time, and only during this season do the inhabitants of one place see those of another; they travel for miles and miles over the ice, some with dogs and some without, but there is invariably at least one sledge with every party. This year the travel has been unusually brisk, owing to the American settlement, which all were anxious to visit. Where a family has a sledge and two or three dogs, they load it with a piece of raw walrus or seal (enough to last them from one village to the next), anything and everything that can be scraped together for trade, one or two deerskins for bedding, and the smallest child that has outgrown the mother’s hood. The rest of the family then take turns in riding, one at a time, while two push the sledge.

On our arrival at the igloos we were immediately surrounded by the natives; two very old women in particular were led to me, and one of them, putting her face close to mine—much closer than I relished—scrutinized me carefully from head to foot, and then said slowly, “Uwanga sukinuts amissuare, koona immartu ibly takoo nahme,” which means, “I have lived a great many suns, but have never seen anything like you.”

We had brought our things up to the igloos and intended to get our supper on the hill, but the native odor, together with that of _passé_ pussy (seal) and awick (walrus) lying about, was too strong, and I suggested that we return to the sledge. The two old women who first greeted us, despite the fact that they could not walk alone, were determined to accompany us, and they were helped down the hill to the sledge. They looked as old and feeble as women at home do between eighty and eighty-five. Never having seen such a sight, they could not let the chance go by, even at the expense of their little strength. Not being able to carry everything in one trip, I went back for the rest, preferring this to staying with the sledge, where the natives were now swarming, and wanting to handle everything they saw. When I came to the igloos again, Annowee, a Cape York woman, who had lately been to Redcliffe, began to beg me not to go down, but to have Mr. Peary come up to her; she had “ah-ah” (pain) in her knees and could not possibly make the descent. She wanted to see us as long as she could, as she would never see our like again. All this time she was not only talking loudly, but clutching at my arm whenever I turned to go, and when I said, “Utchow, utchow, wanga tigalay” (just wait, I am coming back), she said, “Peeuk,” but did not want me to take the things down for fear I should not come back. The other women now closed about me, and all begged me to stay. Mr. Peary, who remained with the sledge, was somewhat disturbed by my position, but it was all done in kindly feeling. In spite of the fact that Annowee “could not come down,” she was at the sledge almost as soon as I was.

We took our supper, after which we bartered for tanned oogzook-sinishaw (seal-thong), sealskins, bearskin trousers, and two dogs. Old Ahnahna gave me a scolding for the benefit of her companions because I would not give her a needle; she said Mr. Peary was “peudiochsoa” (very good) but “Mittie” Peary was “peeuk nahme”—that I used to give her needles, but now I would not do it, etc. While saying this she was laughing all the time, and when I gave her a cup of tea and a cracker she changed her opinion of me at once.

Mr. Peary walked to the Tyndall Glacier and took photos of it, and of the village and the natives. Kyo then hitched up the dogs, we said good-by all around, Ikwa included, and at eight o’clock left for Ittiblu.

To show how sharp these semi-savages are, I may mention the following incident: On the way from Keati to Netchiolumy we dropped at different times three snow-shoes from our sledge, but seeing Ikwa behind us pick them up, we did not stop for them. On reaching Netchiolumy he brought them to us, and said they were fine for us, were they not? We said yes. “Well,” he said, “if I had not picked them up you would not have them, and as my eyes hurt me very much, and I see you have them to spare, you should give me a pair of smoked glasses.” I thought so too, and he got what he asked for.

We had the perfection of traveling. The surface of Whale Sound was just rough enough to prevent it from being slippery, and yet so smooth that the sledge went along as if it were running on a track.

Mr. Peary, Kyo, the driver, and myself were all three seated upon the sledge, which in addition was heavily laden with our sleeping-bags, equipment, provisions, etc., and yet the nine handsome creatures, picked dogs of the tribe, who were pulling us, immediately broke into a run, and, with tails waving like plumes over their backs, kept up a brisk gait until we reached Ittiblu at two o’clock in the morning; the odometer registered 21.94 miles. The night was a beautiful one. The sun shone brightly until near midnight, when it went down like a ball of fire, tinging the sky with crimson, purple, and yellow lights, which gradually faded out and left a dull grayish blue, which in turn changed to a gray just dark enough to show us the numberless stars that studded the firmament. When we reached Ittiblu the sun came up from behind the dark cliffs of the eastern shore of Inglefield Gulf. We had been traveling sixteen hours, and were pretty well tired out. Our dogs, too, were glad to have a meal and rest.

We immediately set to work to build a snow-igloo of our own, on the icy floor of which we placed our sleeping-bags and everything that we did not wish handled by the inhabitants of the settlement. While still at work on this we were visited by two residents, Panikpah, a former visitor at Redcliffe, and Koomenahpik, his father; they showed a true native hospitality by asking us to share the comforts of their igloo—an invitation, however, which we politely declined.

Our igloo proved icy cold, and I shall never forget the difference of temperature between inside and outside. It was just like going from a cellar into a temperature of 90°, and we resolved that unless it was storming we would in future sleep without shelter. Among our breakfast callers was the wife of Koomenahpik, Nauyahleah, the most comical old soul I had yet seen. She evidently felt it her duty to entertain me, and began to tell me all about herself and her family; she let me know that I had already seen one of her sons at Redcliffe, whose name is Tawanah, and who lives still farther up Inglefield Gulf; he had stopped at Ittiblu, she said, on his return from the Peary igloo, and told her what a large koona Peary’s koona was, and how white her skin was, and that her hair was as long as she could stretch with her arms. She followed us wherever we went, and chatted incessantly—whether we were taking photographs or making observations for latitude and time, it made no difference to her. If we did not answer her she would sing at the top of her voice for a few minutes, and then chatter again. She showed us a number of graves, which are nothing but mounds of stones piled on the dead bodies, and told us who lay beneath the rocks.

At eight in the evening we left Ittiblu, with four additional dogs obtained from Panikpah. All night long we dashed on over the smooth surface of Whale Sound, except where we passed Academy Bay. Here from one cape to the other the snow was soft and several inches deep. Again the sun only left us for a short time, and in spite of a temperature of –35°, the ride was a delightful one.

About two A. M. we were abreast of another beautiful glacier, a great river of ice slowly making its way from the eternal inland ice to the sea. The smooth and even appearance of all the glaciers, Mr. Peary told me, was due to the blanket of snow which covered them.

It took us about an hour to pass the face of the ice-sheet, which in places towered above us to a height of one hundred feet and more. As we rounded the southwest corner Kyo sang out, “Inuits, Inuits,” and, looking ahead, we saw an Eskimo snow-igloo built up against the rocks on the shore. Scattered about on the ice-foot lay about a dozen seals, some whole, and some partially cut up; three or four young white seals, a number of sealskins, a large sledge and a small toy-sledge patterned exactly like the large one, and coils of sealskin and walrus lines. In the “tochsoo,” or entrance to the igloo, was tied a young dog, who had no idea of awakening his master, for he only looked at us and gave no sound.

In response to Kyo’s shouts a man came slowly crawling out, rubbing his eyes, and showing every evidence of having been suddenly awakened out of a sound sleep. This proved to be Kudlah, a young native whose home was at the head of Inglefield Gulf, and who on a visit to Redcliffe during the winter had been nicknamed by our boys “Misfortune.” Kudlah had a hang-dog sort of expression. We were told that a woman would only live with him a year and then leave him, it being the privilege of the Eskimo maiden to return to her parents’ roof at the end of a year, provided there is no family, if she finds that she has made a mistake. “Misfortune” had grown very fond of the “kabloonah’s kapah” (white man’s food), especially coffee and crackers, during his visit at Redcliffe, and he now came right to our sledge and asked if we had no “kapah” for him. He told us that he, with his wife, and Tawanah with his wife, a son twelve years of age, and three smaller children, were on their way to Redcliffe. They had left their home, Nunatochsoah, at the head of Inglefield Gulf, two days before, and had walked all day and until midnight, when they built the snow-house and camped. The women and children being very tired, and seal-holes, whence young seals are procured, being plentiful in this neighborhood, they decided to rest a few days and hunt seal. I asked him where they found the pretty little white creatures, and he told me that the mother seal crawls out on the ice through the cracks and hollows out a place for herself under the snow, not disturbing the surface at all, except perhaps by raising it a little, and thus giving it the appearance of a snow-drift or mound. Here she gives birth to her young, and stays with them until they are old enough to take to the water, leaving them only long enough to get food for herself.

To me these mounds did not seem different in appearance from the ordinary snow-mound, but the trained eye of the native immediately distinguishes the “pussy igloo” (seal-house); he walks softly up to it, and puts his ear close to the snow and listens. If he hears any sign of life he jumps on the mound as hard as he can, until it caves in, and then, with a kick in the head, he dispatches the young one. Then he lies in wait for the mother seal to return to her young, when she is promptly harpooned.

While Kudlah was entertaining us, Tawanah and the two women came out of the igloo. The latter were very much interested in me, and wanted to know if there were any more women like me at Redcliffe. When told that there were not, but that they were plentiful in the American country, they asked, “Are they all so tall, and so white, and have they all such long hair? We never have seen women like you.”

Our driver had been refreshing himself with seal and blubber, and Mr. Peary now called to him to untangle the dogs, as we wished to continue our journey. This he did not like, and said the people were all gone, and there was no use in going any farther up the gulf. The snow, he said, was very deep, and the dogs would not be able to pull the load; but Mr. Peary was firm in his decision to push on to the head of the gulf, if possible, in order to complete his surveys. Accordingly, at four A. M. we started again, and to our surprise Kudlah and Tawanah accompanied us. When questioned as to their destination, Tawanah said they had a lot of sealskins and young seals at Nanatochsuahmy which he wanted to give Mr. Peary, and they were going as far as his igloo with us.

In about three hours we came to a small island, and here we pitched camp. After a hearty supper of Boston baked beans, corned beef, and stewed tomatoes, with tea and crackers, we turned in, and what a delightful sleep we had! The sun shone warm, and that peculiar stillness which is found only in the Arctic regions was conducive to long sleep.

After supper we explored the little island and found the plateau covered with the tracks of deer and ptarmigan, but we could descry no living creature. The view from the summit was very fine. We could see down the sound as far as Herbert Island, and almost up to the head of Inglefield Gulf; on the right the eye took in the greater part of Academy Bay, and on the left in the distance towered Mts. Putnam, Daly, and Adams.

Arriving at Nunatochsoah, we spent about an hour in skirmishing about the place, Tawanah taking us to various caches containing sealskins, both tanned and untanned, and two caches containing young seals, about twenty-two in all. Kudlah, too, had a few seals and skins, and both men were anxious to barter their possessions with Mr. Peary for a knife and a saw.