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North-Pole Voyages

<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>NETLIK.</div> <div class='cap'>WE were unwillingly detained on the island several days more. During the detention we were visited by an Esquimo, who came most unexpectedly upon us. His name was Amalatok. He had been at the ship last winter, and had seen Dr. Kane in his August trip. His dress was strikingly arctic—a bird-skin coat, feathers turned in; bear-skin pants, hair outward; seal-skin boots; and dog-skin stockings. He carried in his hand two sea birds, a bladder filled with oil, some half-putrid walrus flesh, and a seal thong. He sat down on a rock and talked with animation. While thus engaged he twisted the neck from one of the birds, inserted the fore-finger of his right hand under the skin of its neck, drew it down its back, and thus instantly skinned it. Then running his long thumb nail along the breastbone, he produced two fine fat lumps of flesh, which he offered in turn to each of our company. These were politely declined, to his great disgust, and he bolted them down himself, sending after them a hearty draught of oil from the bladder. The other bird, the remaining oil, and the coil of seal-hide we purchased of him for three needles.</div> Soon after Amalatok's wife came up with a boy—her [110] nephew. The woman was old, and exceedingly ugly looking; the boy was fine looking, wide-awake, and thievish—we watched him narrowly. In the evening the Esquimo left for their home on the easternly side of the island. In the afternoon of the fourteenth of September we left the island, and set our course toward Cape Parry. The sky had been clear, the air soft and balmy, and the open sea invited us onward. But a cold mist soon settled down upon us, succeeded by a curtain of snow, shutting out all landmarks, and leaving us in great doubt as to our course. The compass refused to do its office, the needle remaining where it was placed. We struck into an ice-field and became perfectly bewildered. As we groped about we struck an old floating ice-island, about twelve feet square. On this we crawled and pitched our tent. The cook contrived, with much perseverance and delay, to light the lamp, melt some snow, and make a pot of coffee. This warmed and encouraged us. But as the snow fell faster and faster, we could not unwrap our bedding without getting it wet; so we huddled together under the tent to keep each other warm. None slept, and the night wore slowly away as our ice-island floated we knew not whither. There was great occasion for despondency, but the men were wonderfully cheerful. Godfrey sung negro melodies with a gusto; Petersen told the stories of his boyhood life in Copenhagen and Iceland; John gave items of a "runner's" life in San Francisco; Whipple related the horrors of the forecastle[111] of a Liverpool packet; and Bonsall "brought down the house" by striking up, <div class='center'> "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" </div> During this merriment a piece of our raft broke off, and came near plunging two of the men into the sea. The morning dawned and showed the dim outlines of some large object near us, whether iceberg or land we could not tell. Before we could well make it out we were near a sandy beach covered with bowlders. We tumbled into the boats and were soon ashore. As we landed, Petersen's gun brought down two large sea-fowl. We were in a little time high on the land, our tent pitched, and all but John, the cook, lay down in the dry, warm buffalo-skins and slept away our weariness. John in the meantime contended through six long hours with the wind, which put out his lamp, the snow, which wet his tinder when he attempted to relight it, and the cold, which froze the water in the kettle during the delay, as well as chilled his fingers and face, and cooked us at last a supper of sea-fowl and fox. As we ate with appetites sharpened by a fast of twenty-four hours, we heard the storm, which raged fearfully, with thankfulness for our timely covert. God, and not our wisdom, had brought us hither. When the morning broke we learned that we had drifted far up Whale Sound, and were camped on Herbert Island. After a little delay we entered our boats, rowed for several hours through "the[112] slush" the snow had created near the shore, and then spreading our canvas, we sailed for the mainland. We struck the coast twenty miles above Cape Parry. We had scarcely time to glance at our situation before we heard the "Huk! Huk! Huk!" of Esquimo voices. It was the hailing cry of a man and a boy who came running to the shore. While Petersen talked with the man, the boy scampered off. The man was Kalutunah, "the Angekok" or priest of his tribe. He had been, as will be recollected, at the ship in the winter. He said the village was only a short distance up the bay, where was plenty of blubber and meat, which we might have if we would allow him to enter our "oomiak" and pilot us there! While we were talking with Kalutunah, the boy had spread the news of our visit through the village. On came a troop of men, women, and children, rushing along the shore, and throwing their arms about, and shouting merrily, with howling dogs at their heels. The "Kablunah" and "Oomiak"—white men and ship—had come and they were happy. We took on board Kalutunah from a rocky point, before the crowd could reach it, and pushed off and rowed up the bay. Our passenger was delighted, having never before voyaged in this wise. He stood up in the boat and called to his envious countrymen who ran abreast of us along the shore, exclaiming, "See me! See me!" We landed in a little cove, at the head of which[113] we pitched our tent. The sailors drew up the boat over the gentle slope, shouting, "Heave-oh!" At this the natives broke out into uproarious laughter. Nothing of all the strange shouts and sights brought to their notice so pleased them. They took hold of the ropes and sides of the boats, and tugged away shouting, "I-e-u! I-e-u! I-e-u!" the nearest approach they could make to the strange sound of the white faces. A short distance from the beach, on the slope, stood the settlement—two stone huts twenty yards apart. They were surrounded by rocks and bowlders, looking more like the lurking places of wild beasts than the abodes of men. The entertainment given us by our new friends was most cordial. A young woman ran off to the valley with a troop of boys and girls at her heels, and filled our kettles with water. Kalutunah's wife brought us a steak of seal and a goodly piece of liver. The lookers-on laughed at our canvas-wick lamp, as it sputtered and slowly burned, and the chief's daughter ran off and brought their lamp of dried moss and seal fat. We gave them some of our supper, as they expected of course that we would. They made wry faces at the coffee, and only sipped a little; but Kalutunah with more dignity persevered and drank freely of it. We passed round some hard biscuit, which they did not regard as food until they saw us eat them. They then nibbled away, laughing and nibbling awhile until their teeth seemed to be sore. They then thrust them into[114] their boots, the general receptacles of curious things. After supper the white men lighted their pipes. This to the natives was the crowning wonder. They stared at the strangers, and then looked knowingly at each other. The solemn faces of the smokers, the devout look which they gave at the ascending smoke from their mouths as it curled upward, impressed the Esquimo that this was a religious ceremony. They, too, preserved a becoming gravity. But the ludicrous scene was too much for our men, and their faces relaxed into smiles. This was a signal for a general explosion. The Esquimo burst into loud laughter, springing to their feet and clapping their hands. The religious meeting was over. The "Angekok," who seemed desirous to show his people that he could do any thing which the strangers could, desired to be allowed to smoke. We gave him a pipe, and directed him to draw in his breath with all his might. He did so, and was fully satisfied to lay the pipe down. His awful grimaces brought down upon him shouts and laughter from his people. The mimic puffs, and the poorly executed echoes of the sailors' "Heave-oh," went merrily round the village. Having established good feeling between ourselves and the Esquimo, we entered upon negotiations for such articles of food as they could spare. But they in fact had only a small supply. They wanted, of course, our needles, knives, wood,[115] and iron, and were profuse in their promises of what they would do, but their game was in the sea. It was midnight before the Esquimo retired and we lay down to sleep. Dr. Hayes and Stephenson remained on guard, for our very plausible friends were not to be trusted where any thing could be stolen. The stars twinkled in the clear atmosphere while yet the twilight hung upon the mountain, and all nature was hushed to an oppressive silence, save when it was broken by the sudden outburst of laughter from the Esquimo, or the cawing of a solitary raven. Leaving Stephenson on guard, Dr. Hayes walked toward the huts. Kalutunah hearing his footsteps came out to meet him, expressing his welcome by grinning in his face and patting his back. The huts were square in front and sloped back into the hill. They were entered by a long passage-way—tossut—of twelve feet, at the end of which was an ascent into the hut through an opening in the floor near the front. Into this the chief led the way, creeping on all fours, with a lighted torch of moss saturated with fat. Snarling dogs and half-grown puppies were sleeping in this narrow way, who naturally resented in their own amiable way this midnight disturbance. Arriving at the upright shaft, the chief crowded himself aside to let his visitor pass in. A glare of light, suffocating odors, and a motley sight, greeted the doctor. Crowded into the den, on a raised stone bench around three sides, were human beings of both[116] sexes, and of all ages. They huddled together still closer to make room for the stranger, whom they greeted with an uproarious laugh. In one of the front corners, on a raised stone bench, was a mother-dog with a family of puppies. In the other corner was a joint of meat. The whole interior was about ten feet in diameter, and five and a half high. The walls were made of stone and the bones of animals, and chinked with moss. They were not arched, but drawn in from the foundation, and capped above with slabs of slate-stone. The doctor's visit was one of curiosity, but the curiosity of the Esquimo in reference to him was more intense and must first be gratified. They hung upon his arms and legs and shoulders; they patted him on the back, and stroked his long beard, which to these beardless people was a wonder. The woolen clothes puzzled them, and their profoundest thought was at fault in deciding the question of the kind of animal from whose body the material was taken. They had no conception of clothing not made of skins. The boys' hands soon found their way into the doctor's pockets, and they drew out a pipe, which passed with much merriment from hand to hand, and mouth to mouth. Kalutunah drew the doctor's knife from its sheath, pressed it fondly to his heart, and then with a mischievous side glance stuck it into his own boot. The doctor shook his head, and it was returned with a laugh to its place. A dozen times he took it out, hugged it, and returned it to its[117] place, saying beseechingly, "Me! me! give me!" He did want it so much! The visitor's pistol was handled with great caution and seriousness. They had been given a hint of its power at the sea-shore, where Bonsall had brought a large sea-fowl down into their midst by a shot from his gun. While this examination of the doctor was going on he examined more closely the objects about him. There was a window, or opening, above the entrance, over which dried intestines, sewed together, were stretched to let in light. The wall was covered with seal and fox skins stretched to dry. There were in the hut three families and one or two visitors, in all eighteen or twenty persons. The female head of each family was attending in different parts of the hut, to her family cooking. They had each a stone, scooped out like a clam shell, in which was put a piece of moss soaked in blubber. This was both lamp and stove, and was kept burning by feeding with fat. Over this a stone pot was hung from the ceiling, in which the food was kept simmering. These, and the animal heat of the inmates, made the hut intensely warm. Seeing the white man panting for breath, some boys and girls laid hold of his clothes to strip him, after their own fashion. This act of Esquimo courtesy he declined. They then urged him to eat, and he answered, "Koyenuck"—I thank you—at which they all laughed. Though he had dreaded this invitation, he did not think it good policy to declare it. A young girl brought him the contents[118] of one of the stone pots in a skin dish, first tasting it herself to see if it was too hot. All eyes were upon the visitor. Not to take their proffered pottage would be a great affront. To him the dose seemed insufferable, though of necessity to be taken. Shutting his eyes, and holding his nose, he bolted it down. He was afterward informed that it was one of the delicacies of their table, made by boiling together blood, oil, and seal intestines! After thus partaking of their hospitality, the doctor left the Esquimo quarters, escorted by "the Angekok" and his daughter. We were astir at dawn, preparing to leave this little village known as Netlik. We had obtained a valuable addition to our slender store of blubber, and a few pairs of fur boots and mittens, for which we amply paid them. Knowing that the Esquimo had never heard of the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet," and that they did not understand well the law of "mine" and "thine," we watched them closely as our stores were being passed into the boat. When we were ready to push off it was ascertained that the hatchet was missing. Petersen openly charged them, as they stood upon the shore, with the theft. They all threw up their hands with expressions of injured innocence. "My people never steal!" exclaimed the affronted chief. One fellow was so loud in his protestations of innocence that Petersen suspected him. The Dane approached him with a flash of anger in his[119] eye, which told its own story. The Esquimo stepped back, stooped, picked up the hatchet, on which he had been standing, and gave it to Petersen with one hand, and with the other presented him a pair of mittens as a peace-offering. We pushed off, and they stood shouting upon the beach until their voices died away in the distance as we pulled across the bay. <hr style="width: 65%;" />[120] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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