Card.
"The undersigned, late master of the whale ship Citizen, of New Bedford, feels it a duty he owes alike to the living and the dead to make known the following circumstances.
"On the 25th of September, 1852, in the Arctic Ocean, in lat. 68° 10´ N., the ship Citizen was wrecked, and five men were lost; himself and the balance of the crew reached the shore, without any thing but the clothes they stood in. It was very cold, and they kept alive by burning casks of oil that had floated ashore from the wreck; that they lived near the wreck until October 3, when the whale ship Citizen, of Nantucket, Captain Bailey, hove in sight; they immediately hoisted a flag upon a pole thirty feet high, and made every signal they could of distress; that the ship at first stood in as though she saw them, then hauled up and shivered in the wind, and afterwards filled away and left them. She was so close at one time that those on shore could see her davits. The feelings with which they saw the vessel leave them are indescribable, as no hope was left them but to endure the rigors of a winter's residence in that cold, bleak, and desolate region, if they should escape the tomahawk of the savage. That their signals were seen by Captain Bailey there can be no doubt, as Captain B. reported seeing his signals last fall. The mate of Captain Bailey's vessel reported to Captain B. that he could see sailors on shore, and requested a boat to go to their relief, which Captain B. refused.
"Through the inhumanity of Captain Bailey, we were compelled to remain nine months in that barren region, destitute of clothing and food, other than the natives could supply us from their scanty stores of blubber and furs. During this time, two of the crew perished from cold, and left their bones to bleach among the snows of the north, as a monument of 'man's inhumanity to man.'
"The natives were humane, kind, and hospitable to us, though wretchedly poor.
Thomas H. Norton."
Hunting the Polar Bear.
[CHAPTER VI.]
Our sad and desolate Feelings after the Departure of the Ship.—What we should soon witness of Arctic Winter.—The Wreck visited from Time to Time.—Provisions transported to the Settlement.—The Weather.—Whales near Shore.—Severe Gale of Wind.—Fall of Snow.—Ocean frozen over.—Sudden Introduction of Winter, and its Dreariness.—Not to be described.—The Sun falling, Nights lengthening.—Disappearance of the Sun.—Long Night.—How we passed our Time.—Confined to the Huts.—Singing.—Neither Book nor Chart, nor Writing Materials, except Pieces of Copper.—Hope of Liberation another Year.—Captain Norton's Method of keeping Time.—The Razor.—Our Clothing.—Provisions getting low.—Natives both eating and stealing ours.—A new Chapter.—Commenced living on Blubber with the Natives.—Native Stock diminishing.—Winters in the Arctic vary.—The native Manner of capturing the Whale.—Preparing their Food.—Native Bread.—Description of their Huts.—Their peculiar Locality.—Their Method of lighting and warming them.—The Filthiness of the Natives.
The next day after the departure of the ship, as well as the departure of our highest earthly hopes,—hopes which had been excited in us immeasurably beyond any former experience,—we remained principally in our huts, having neither desire nor energy, heart nor hope, to go abroad, but what was most fitting in our present condition, and future prospects, to indulge in sad and melancholy reflections upon the few past hours. There was a singular solitariness pervading all our minds, such as we never felt before. We were now painfully sensible that the ice, snow, and cold, peculiar to this region of the north, such as we never witnessed before, would ere long form around us an impassable barrier, frightful even to contemplate, and through which there would be to us no present egress.
What remained of provisions still at the wreck, and other articles which may have washed ashore, reason and the instinct of self-preservation taught us, it was our duty at once to secure. Accordingly, the day following, the whole company were again assembled, and went to the wreck. We made a division of the provisions, especially of bread, between the different parties occupying different huts, and each party transported its respective share to the settlement. The natives were present with the crew during the day, and ever ready to appropriate to their own benefit whatever they saw fit to take, or were disposed to lay hold of.
There were several casks of molasses which came ashore; and since these could not be very well divided at the wreck, it was resolved to construct a species of sled, upon which a whole cask could be drawn to the settlement at one time. This we did, though it required many tedious hours and severe labor. By the aid of ropes, and a combination of all our efforts, we succeeded in getting all the molasses to the huts. We managed in the same way with a number of barrels of flour which came ashore about this time. Several tin plates and basins were also found on the beach, and these answered an excellent purpose, as they afterwards proved; because in them we mixed our flour and molasses together, and thus made very luscious pancakes. We usually baked them outside of the huts, as no fire was allowed within, except very rarely; nor were we permitted to make any outside when the wind was in a northerly direction, lest the smoke should frighten away the seals from the shore and region. So reasoned the natives.
We continued to visit the wreck and obtain whatever we could, until the weather became so severe, and the traveling so bad, that it was no longer safe to expose ourselves.
After having gathered all the provisions we could find at the wreck, such as bread, flour, and molasses, we judged that with economy, and with ordinary allowance, it would last the ship's company three or four months. But the great drawback which we apprehended, and which we found to be true, was, the natives acted as if they had as good a right to our provisions as we had ourselves. They not only joined us in eating what belonged to us, but they took what they wanted, both openly and secretly.
The weather continued quite moderate, we should judge, for this region of the north, not intensely cold, still gradually increasing, until the 17th of November. While the sea was open, whales were very plenty. They came near the shore where our settlement was located, and sported among the breakers, and in some instances, would rest their huge heads upon the rocks, just on the surface of the water.
About this time, a very severe gale of wind blew from the north, more furious and winterish than had occurred since our abode in this region, accompanied with a heavy fall of snow. The wind was so violent that it prostrated several native huts. This storm was doubtless a forerunner of winter indeed, and which brought from the remote wastes of the Northern Sea vast quantities of ice, which, in connection with that which had been forming along the coast, closed up the whole ocean as far as the eye could reach. Indeed, all water entirely disappeared.
This was an uncommon and singular feature in our experience of an arctic winter. It thus began in earnest to put on the sterner and more terrible attributes of dreariness and desolation. There was something profoundly dreadful and awe-inspiring in the giant march of a polar winter, prodigious in its increase of snow and the vast accumulation of ice. It was upon a scale of operation so sublime and awful as to baffle all human description, and throw wholly into the shade, as absolutely insignificant, the intensest winter ever experienced in our native country. It is utterly impossible to give to any one who has not shared somewhat in the tremendous reality of the scene a just conception of it.
The sun was now falling rapidly, and showing its bright disk only a few hours above the horizon. The nights were very long, and the days were becoming shorter and shorter. It seemed as if the luminary of day was indisposed to throw abroad his own rays upon a region of the earth's surface where either human or animal life could with so much difficulty exist. In a few weeks, the sun had wholly disappeared, though his track of light could be distinctly traced in his course below a section of the horizon; but still it was becoming fainter and fainter, until total darkness and a long night of nearly a month enveloped the outward world, as well as enshrouded our own minds in indescribable gloom and sadness.
Our readers may inquire how we passed our time during our detention among the natives, and especially during the coldest of the weather, or during the long night of polar darkness. When the thermometer, during the depth of winter, would doubtless have indicated scores of degrees less than zero, we rarely ventured forth out of the huts. But far otherwise with the natives. They would go out and travel from settlement to settlement, even in the coldest weather. At times, however, they would return from their winter excursions somewhat frost-bitten. We also became, in a measure, accustomed to the intense cold, and being clothed in the garments of the natives, consisting wholly of skins and furs, we could endure a great degree of cold.
If there was any outward relief to be found to our minds during the long nights of the arctic, and the entire absence of the sun for several weeks, it consisted in the peculiar and uncommon brilliancy which marked the course of the moon in those clear skies.
Nor was this all. The aurora borealis there is seen in all its native beauty and grandeur. It illumined the sky with a light but little inferior to that of moonlight. It would from time to time shoot up and spread itself over the whole northern horizon, and with its sparkling scintillations and brightly-colored coruscations, it would form a splendid arch over our heads. And then, again, as the advancing column of warriors rushes into battle, so the bright line above us, with its moving front and wheeling battalions, would seem to change its hue and position, and thus prepare for a fresh onset.
The aurora borealis of the arctic and polar region is one of nature's grandest and most sublime scenes ever beheld by mortals.
As we were confined within the huts of the natives during a greater part of our abode with them, and as nothing particular occurred demanding our exposure out of doors, we had sufficient time to sleep, if sleep we could. To pass away time was extremely hard and irksome. Its wheels rolled slowly and heavily along. Some of us would sing to the natives, which tended not only to divert and encourage our own minds, but to please them. We found, however, they were wonderfully pleased with our singing, and so much interested were they in it, that nothing would satisfy them unless some one of us was singing to them. Thus they laid an oppressive task upon us, which we were not able to perform. What we commenced, therefore, as a sort of pastime, in order to while away tedious hours, days, and months, finally became, through the constant importunity of the natives, a grievous burden to us.
We had neither book nor chart of any description in our possession, with which to divert or instruct our minds. We had nothing upon which to write any event or fact, except small pieces of copper, and a few stray leaves which we happened to find in the huts of the natives. Our time, as all must see, was spent comparatively in a most listless and unprofitable manner; it was simply the endurance of life, and the prolonged hope that another year, if we should live to see it, would bring to us the day of deliverance.
Captain Norton kept, by the aid of a piece of twine, in which he tied knots, an account of every day, from the time of the wreck until our rescue at East Cape, with the single exception of only one knot too many, which he supposed he must have added during the long night.
The only razor, which was a great favorite with the company, and which we frequently used to the best of our ability, without either soap or brush, was an ordinary jackknife. It was necessary to keep our beards trimmed within proper limits; otherwise our breath, even in the huts, and especially when exposed to the air outside, would reduce them to a mass of solid ice.
These two articles, viz., the twine and the knife, were about all the significant and expressive mementoes which we brought with us from our arctic quarters. These, however, were sufficient to bring most distinctly and vividly to our minds a painful episode in our ocean life.
The clothing with which we were furnished by the natives, and without which we must have perished, was composed of skins and furs. We dressed as the natives did. An observer could have seen no difference in this respect between us and them. Our shoes, pants, and a kind of jacket, and caps, were wholly of skins, with the hair inside, and then over these another dress, with the hair outside. Thus clothed, we were protected from the keen, piercing air—a protection secured to us which no other substitute could provide.
About the 1st of January, in the depth of winter, we began to perceive that nearly all the provisions we obtained from the wreck were about gone. The natives had shared with us in the several huts to a considerable extent in consuming what belonged to us. They were very fond of our flour, molasses, and bread. They wanted to eat what we ate, and when they could not get it by fair play, they would indulge in their natural propensity, and steal it.
What we greatly feared was now coming upon us. A new chapter in our history began to open. The food of the natives must henceforth be for our support. To their credit, however, be it said, there appeared no disposition on their part to confine us down to a mere pittance, while they themselves had their usual allowance. What they had was freely offered to us, and both parties fared about the same while food lasted. Their supply of provisions for the winter, so far as we could judge, was not large; but now the addition of thirty-three persons to their number soon diminished their usual stock.
Winters even in the arctic are variable, as we learned from the natives; some were very severe, and other less so. We ascertained that an entire settlement to the north of the one in which we lived, and north of the wreck, perished a few years before in consequence of the intense cold, and the want of provisions.
Some idea perhaps may be entertained by the reader of the principal kind of food the natives eat, and what we lived upon for months while with them.