a visit to the eskimos—wonderful doings—a mystery.
the proceedings of this sledge party were so interesting that i give them in the words of tom gregory’s journal:
“sunday.—we have indeed cause to rejoice and to thank god for his mercies this morning. last night we shot a bear, and the captain is away with the carcass of it to our poor scurvy-smitten friends in the hope. this sunday will be a real day of rest for me and sam baker, though our resting-place is a very queer one. after the captain left us, we looked about for a convenient place to encamp, and only a few yards from the spot where we killed the bear we found the ruins of an old eskimo hut made partly of stones, partly of ice. we set to work to patch it up with snow, and made it perfectly air-tight in about two hours.
“into this we carried our bear-skins and things, spread them on the snowy floor, put a lump of bear’s fat into our tin travelling lamp, and prepared supper. we were not particular about the cookery. we cut a couple of huge slices off our bear’s ham, half roasted them over the lamp, and began. it was cut, roast, and come again, for the next hour and a half. i positively never knew what hunger was until i came to this savage country! and i certainly never before had any idea of how much i could eat at one sitting!
“this hearty supper was washed down with a swig of melted snow-water. we had some coffee with us, but were too tired to infuse it. then we blocked up the door with snow, rolled our bear-skins round us, and were sound asleep in five minutes.
“lucky for us that we were so careful to stop up every hole with snow, for, during the night the wind rose and it became so intensely cold that baker and i could scarcely keep each other warm enough to sleep, tired though we were. at this moment my fingers are so stiff that they will hardly hold the pencil with which i write, and the gale is blowing so furiously outside that we dare not open the door. this door, by the way, is only a hole big enough to creep through. the captain cannot travel to-day. he knows we are safe, so i will not expect him. i have brought my small testament with me. it has hitherto been my constant travelling companion. i am thus provided with mental food. but, in truth, i shall not want much of that for the next twelve hours. rest! rest! rest! is what we require. no one can imagine how a man can enjoy rest, after he has been for many months exposed to constant, exhausting, heart-breaking toil, with the thermometer always below zero, and with nothing but salt food to keep him alive.
“tuesday night.—here we are at last—among the eskimos! and what a queer set they are, to be sure. all fat and fur! they look as broad as they are long. they wear short fox and seal-skin coats, or shirts, with hoods to then; no trousers, but long boots, that come up and meet the coats. women, men, and babies, all dressed alike, or nearly so. the only difference is that the women’s boots are longer and wider than those of the men. but i forgot—yes, there is one other difference; the women have tails to their coats; the men have none! real tails—not like the broad skirts of our dress-coats, but long, narrow tails, something like the tail of a cow, with a broadish flap at the end of it. this they evidently look upon as a handsome ornament, for i observe that when they go off on a journey, each woman buttons her tail up to her waist, to keep it out of the way, and when she returns she unbuttons it, and comes into camp with her tail flowing gracefully behind her!
“we had a terrible journey of it down here. the captain returned to us on monday morning early, and the next two days we spent struggling over the hummocks and out upon the floes. it was so cold that the wind cut into our very marrow. we have all had our faces frozen, more or less, but not badly. baker will have an ugly spot on the end of his nose for some weeks to come. it is getting black now, and as the nose itself is bright red and much swelled, his appearance is not improved. i foolishly tried to eat a little snow yesterday morning, and the consequence is that my lips are sore and bloody. on monday afternoon the dogs and sledge went head over heels into a deep rut in the ice, and it cost us two hours to get them out again. luckily no damage was done, although the captain was on the sledge at the time.
“we had almost despaired of finding the village when we came upon a sledge track that led us straight up to it. i shall never forget the beauty of the scene on our arrival. the sky was lighted up with the most beautiful aurora i have yet seen in these regions. stars spangled the sky in millions. great ice-bergs rose in wild confusion in the distance, and all along the shore for a few hundred yards were clusters of snow-huts. they looked exactly like bee-hives. i have seen many a strange house, but the strangest of all is certainly a house of snow! to-day i was fortunate enough to see one built. it was done very neatly. the hard snow was cut into slabs with a wooden knife. these were piled one above another in regular order, and cemented with snow—as bricks are with lime. the form of the wall was circular, and the slabs were so shaped that they sloped inwards, thus forming a dome, or large bee-hive, with a key-stone slab in the top to keep all firm. a hole was then cut in the side for a door—just large enough to admit of a man creeping through. in front of this door a porch or passage of snow was built. the only way of getting into the hut is by creeping on hands and knees along the passage. a hole was also cut in the roof, into which was inserted a piece of clear ice, to serve for a window.
“the natives received us with wild surprise, and i found my old friends, the walrus-hunters, among them. they were remarkably friendly. one stout, middle-aged fellow invited us to his hut. i am now seated in it beside the eskimo’s wife, who would be a good-looking woman if she were not so fat, dirty, and oily! but we cannot expect people living in this fashion, and in such a country, to be very clean. although the hut is white outside, it is by no means white inside. they cook all their food over an oil-lamp, which also serves to heat the place; and it is wonderful how warm a house of snow becomes. the cold outside is so great as to prevent the walls melting inside. besides myouk, our host, and his wife, there are two of the man’s sisters, two lads, two girls, and a baby in the hut. also six dogs. the whole of them—men, women, children, and dogs, are as fat as they can be, for they have been successful in walrus-hunting of late. no wonder that the perspiration is running down my face! the natives feel the heat, too, for they are all half-naked—the baby entirely so; but they seem to like it!
“what a chattering, to be sure! i am trying to take notes, and myouk’s wife is staring at me with her mouth wide open. it is a wonder she can open her eyes at all, her cheeks are so fat. the captain is trying, by the language of signs, to get our host to understand that we are much in want of fresh meat. sam baker is making himself agreeable to the young people, and the plan he has hit upon to amuse them is to show them his watch, and let them hear it tick. truly, i have seldom seen a happier family group than this eskimo household, under their snowy roof!
“there is to be a grand walrus-hunt to-morrow. we shall accompany them, and see whether our endurance on a long march, and our powers with the rifle, cannot impress them with some respect for us. at present they have not much. they seem to think us a pale-faced set of helpless creatures.
“wednesday night.—we have just returned from the hunt; and a tremendous hunt it was! six walrus and two bears have been killed, and the whole village is wild with delight. cooking is going on in every hut. but they have no patience. nearly everyone is munching away at a lump of raw walrus flesh. all their faces are more or less greasy and bloody. even myouk’s baby—though not able to speak—is choking itself with a long, stringy piece of blubber. the dogs, too, have got their share. an eskimo’s chief happiness seems to be in eating, and i cannot wonder at it, for the poor creatures have hard work to get food, and they are often on the verge of starvation.
“what a dirty set they are! i shall never forget the appearance of myouk’s hut when we entered it this evening after returning from the hunt. the man’s wife had made the wick of her stone lamp as long as possible in order to cook a large supper. there were fifteen people crowded together in this hive of snow, and the heat had induced them to throw off the greater part of their clothing. every hand had a greasy lump of bear or walrus meat in it; every mouth was in full occupation, and every fat face, of man, woman, and child, was beaming with delight and covered with dirt and oil!
“the captain and i looked at each other and smiled as we entered, and sam baker laughed outright. this set all the natives laughing, too. we did not much relish the idea of supping and sleeping in such a place—but necessity has no law. we were hungry as hawks, desperately tired, and the temperature outside is 35 degrees below zero. the first duty of the night is now over. we have supped. the natives will continue to eat the greater part of the night. they eat till they fall asleep; if they chance to awake they eat again. half of them are asleep now, and snoring. the other half are eating slowly, for they are nearly full. the heat and smell are awful! i am perspiring at every pore. we have taken off as much of our clothes as decency will permit. sam has on a pair of trousers—nothing more. i am in the same state! there is little room, as may be supposed. we have to lie huddled up as we best can, and a strange sight we are as the red light of the flaring lamp falls on us. at this moment myouk’s wife is cutting a fresh steak. the youngest boy is sound asleep with a lump of fat between his teeth. the captain is also sound, with his legs sprawling over the limbs of half a dozen slumbering natives. he is using the baby as a pillow. it is curious to think that these poor creatures always live in this way. sometimes feasting, sometimes starving. freezing out on the floes; stewing under their roofs of snow. usually fat; for the most part jolly; always dirty!
“it is sad, too, to think of this; for it is a low condition for human beings to live in. they seem to have no religion at all. certainly none that is worthy of the name. i am much puzzled when i think of the difficulties in the way of introducing christianity among these northern eskimos. no missionary could exist in such a climate and in such circumstances. it is with the utmost difficulty that hardy seamen can hold out for a year, even with a ship-load of comforts. but this is too deep a subject to write about to-night! i can’t keep my eyes open. i will, therefore, close my note-book and lie down to sleep—perhaps to be suffocated! i hope not!”
accordingly, our young friend the doctor did lie down to sleep, and got through the night without being suffocated. indeed, he slept so soundly that captain harvey could scarcely rouse him next morning.
“hallo! tom! tom!” cried he loudly, at the same time shaking his nephew’s arm violently.
“aye, eh!” and a tremendous yawn from tom. “what now, uncle? time to rise, is it? where am i?”
“time to rise!” replied the captain, laughing. “i should think it is. why, it’s past eleven in the forenoon. the stars are bright and the sky clear. the aurora, too, is shining. come, get up! the natives are all outside watching sam while he packs our sledge. the ladies are going about the camp whisking their tails and whacking their babies in great glee, for it is not every day they enjoy such a feed as they had last night.”
in half an hour they were ready. the whole village turned out to see them start. myouk, with his wife oomia, and the baby, and his son meetek, accompanied them to refuge harbour. oomia’s baby was part of herself. she could not move without it! it was always naked, but being stuffed into the hood of its mother’s fur-coat, it seemed always warm.
“i say, tom, what’s that up in the sky?” said captain harvey suddenly, after they had been driving for a couple of hours. “it’s the strangest looking thing i ever did see.”
“so it is,” replied gregory, gazing intently at the object in question, which seemed high up in the air. “it can’t be a comet, because it gives no light.”
“perhaps not, but it has got a tail, that’s a fact,” said baker, in a voice of surprise. “who ever heard of a dark, four-cornered star with a tail? if i had seen it in daylight, and in merry england, i would have said it was a kite!”
“a kite! nonsense,” cried the captain; “what in the world can it be?”
reader, you shall find that out in the next chapter.
