CHAPTER IX—A GREENLAND SETTLEMENT
"The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly proclaims the happiest spot his own;
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And his long nights of revelry and ease."
We were now crossing Davis Straits and felt that the whaling voyage had fairly begun. Reference was seldom made to the places already visited, but those we expected to see were discussed, and stories told of previous experiences there. Nothing was spoken of but Greenland and its settlements.
The weather was very cold and on Thursday, May 15th, snow squalls reminded us of our latitude. The wind was fair, however, and the ship made good time under steam and some canvas.
Friday, May 16th. The morning was fine and the men of the watch were employed coaling the bunkers; coal dust was thick in the 'tween-decks and the tarts we had for tea were black with it as the galley opened oft the Tween-decks. In spite of their color, however, they were better tarts than any I ever tasted on shore.
As we expected to be on the Greenland coast the following day, a few remarks about the country may not be out of place.
The west coast settlements had prospered under the fostering care of the Moravian missionaries and the Danish Government and were divided into two districts, the northern and the southern, Holstenborg, to which we were bound, being the northern settlement of the southern district. The most northern settlements of the northern district had native governors, but the southern had Danish, and inspectors supervised the work of these.
One or two ships from Copenhagen visited the coast every year with supplies, taking back oil and skins.
We have all sung about the icy mountains of Greenland, and most of us have in a vague way connected the country with whales, without having any idea of how great this whaling industry was some years ago. In the appendix it will be seen that Great Britain alone sent one hundred and fifty-nine ships to Greenland waters in 1819, and, of course, the Norwegians and Dutch, the Danes, Germans and others also profited by the fisheries. Many words in the modern whaler's vocabulary are of Dutch origin, as these hardy people were conspicuous among the most daring followers of this dangerous trade.
Greenland has a past, but its history, viewed through the mists of centuries, and always more or less traditional, is anything but distinct.
The country was discovered toward the end of the tenth century; and a banished Norwegian, called Erick, wintered at what is now called Erick Sound, shortly after. The unscrupulous Erick, in order to promote colonization, called the new country Greenland. A fleet of twenty-five sail started for the country with colonists. Many were lost, but about half of them settled there and were joined by others, forming quite a colony.
Christianity was introduced about 1121 and a bishop was appointed. By degrees the colonists in the south formed other colonies, churches were built, and the people prospered for a time.
Grant tells us in his history of Greenland that there were about one hundred hamlets on these coasts. The colonies on the east coast have disappeared. Some ruins have been found, but where are the people? Nothing has been heard definitely from them since 1408, when the east Greenland trade ceased. Some think that black death destroyed them, others say that polar ice, coming down, closed the coast from intercourse with the parent country, so that they starved. According to one Kojake, who has written on the subject, they became eaters of human flesh, owing to a famine, but afterwards they are said to have relished it. That they were nice about it is evident when we read that they only consumed old people, forsaken orphans and unnecessary persons. A rumor reached Norway in 1718 about a vessel having been wrecked oft the coast of Greenland and of the crew having been eaten voraciously by savages. The word voracious suggests relish, and possibly these savages were descendants from the good, old Norwegian stock, who ate unnecessary persons only a few hundred years before and who had a bishop in 1121.
May 17th. Saturday. We expected to sight the land, so were on the lookout. The weather was cloudy and there was a southeast breeze, so everything was set and drawing. The clouds lifted about noon and in the distance the snow-covered mountains of Greenland could be seen. At first it was difficult to tell which was mountain and which cloud. By and by, however, the forbidding coast grew distinct.
Our objective point was Holstenborg and the mate was in the crow's-nest examining the shore for the Danish colors. Some small bergs were scattered over the water and a narrow shore floe was fast to the coast.
To the north of us the Knights Reefs ran far out to sea and on these some larger bergs had grounded. The ship was slowed down and all her canvas stowed. Finally the engines were stopped, and after a little while, the captain ordered the ship put about as he could not pick up the settlement. I heard the order given and was greatly disappointed as I longed to see an Eskimo.
Just then the mate called out that he saw a kayak coming off, so the ship lay to and waited. I repaired to the fore top and presently saw two kayaks coming toward us. There was quite a splash on, but the sun had now come out and the scene interested me intensely.
The little boats were almost submerged and the occupants were wet and glistened in the sunlight.
When they came alongside, I saw that the kayaks were about 15 feet long, with little knobs of ivory decorating bow and stern, and were about 18 inches wide at the widest part and covered with skin.
One Eskimo sat in each. The edge of the hole in which he sat was raised a couple of inches and over this he had pulled his skin coat, wrapped a lash around it and made it water-tight. The paddle was trimmed with ivory and the dusky faces of the almond-eyed navigators were all smiles as they looked at us and showed their white teeth. A whale boat was lowered and each canoe lifted in, Eskimo and all, then they left their boats, shook hands with every one around and went on to the bridge, where they remained until the ship was at anchor off the village.
Holstenborg consisted of a church, which was also a schoolhouse, a shop where the deputy governor lived, and the governor's house. There were a number of native houses—awful places, built of turf. A long low passage led to the door of each. As the weather was comparatively warm, this passage was generally very wet, and when the door of the house opened, the smell was overpowering. Inside sat women at work with their needles, or dressing skins. When the ship came to anchor off the shore floe, a boat-load of ladies came on board. A Greenland belle was a well dressed person. Her hair was folded several times and then wound about with a ribbon, so that it stood up upon the top of the head; the fold of the hair above the ribbon was rather fanshaped, and the color of the ribbon indicated whether the lady was married, single, or a widow. Possibly there were degrees of wrapping, and shades of the color, indicating the number of times she had been married, and the depths of despair into which her various bereavements had reduced her. This simple record of her past was an excellent arrangement in a country where there were no society papers,—a sort of personal totem carried on the head, so that he or she who ran might read. Of course, in lower latitudes, where high civilization and divorce courts exist, shortness of hair would render some records so incomplete that the Greenland method is never likely to supplant the present ready references to be found amongst interested and observing neighbors. A bodice was worn, made of some cheerful colored stuff procured at the shop or from whalers. Tight fitting trousers, made of bay seal skin and extending down to the knees, came next, and very gaudy boots of colored skin. Down the front of each leg of the trousers was a stripe 1 1/2 inches wide, of colored skin, and the boots, especially around the tops, were very ornate. Many of the girls were good-looking, and on their arrival a ball commenced in the 'tween-decks which lasted while they were there; fiddles and concertinas supplying the music. These instruments were played by whalers and Eskimos equally well, and they knew the same airs. Most of our visitors had articles to barter and they wanted bread in return more than anything else, but accepted colored handkerchiefs and other trifles.
Slippers and tobacco pouches were their principal stock in trade, but there were some down quilts, prettily bordered with the green necks of the eider duck. Captain Fairweather and myself spent a pleasant evening with the governor and his deputy, and it was interesting to hear the music of civilization played on a piano by the wife of the latter.
Coming away, they gave us a lot of quaint ivories made by the natives, from walrus tusks, such as brooches, pipes, paper knives, etc., etc.
May 18th. Sunday. I went on shore early, and seeing a lot of snow buntings, spent some time looking for their nests, but without result. On the sunny sides of the rocks the snow had gone; there was some dead grass, but indeed the country was, for the most part, covered with it. There were several pairs of ravens about, but I could not find their nests, so I borrowed a pair of skies, and ascending a hill close by, enjoyed the exhilarating sport of sliding down its snowy slope. During the afternoon I made a house-to-house visitation in the native quarter and saw much of interest. The older portion of the population I found at home, but the youth and beauty of the place had gone on board the Aurora. About dinner time I came on board and acquired a further collection of Eskimo ware, including ladies' clothing, for which even my bed curtains were bartered. It was late when I retired for the night, surfeited with the pleasure of my first long day in Greenland.
May 19th. Monday. I wrote letters home this morning and sent them on shore. During the summer they arrived via Copenhagen, having gone by the Danish mail ship which visited the settlement every year.
By breakfast time we were under way. It was a beautiful day. There was a breeze from the southwest, so the ship soon had all her canvas set and we stood away, clear of the land.
The Knights Reef, running out to sea north of Holstenborg, had to be weathered. On the heavy ice around there, we saw a number of walrus, but did not disturb them. By noon we were sailing up the coast amid floe ice, so the canvas was taken off and we steamed slowly through it. A sharp lookout was kept for whales, as we were then on a very good ground for spring fishing, sixty miles from Disco and sixty miles from Riffkol being the neighborhood where the ships in olden times killed fine cargoes.
"With Riffkol hill and Disco Dipping,
There you will find the whale fish skipping,"
is an old saying amongst whalers.
