CHAPTER XIV.
ESQUIMO TREACHERY.
THE kind Providence which had interfered for us in so many cases came with timely help. October twenty-sixth, Kalutunah and his companion returned. They had been south to Cape York, nearly a hundred miles, calling on their way at the village called Akbat, thirty miles off. They had killed three bears, the most of which they had upon their sledges. They sold us, reluctantly, enough for a few days. We ate of the refreshing meat like starving men, as we really were. Our sunken eyes and hollow cheeks seemed to leave us at a single meal. The faint revived, and our despondency departed. Our past sufferings were for the moment at least forgotten, and we looked hopefully upon the future.
The next day the Esquimo called and left a little more meat and blubber. We caught two small foxes, one of them in a trap, and the other was arrested by a shot from Dr. Hayes's gun. The audacious little fellow run over the roof of our hut and awoke the doctor, who, without dressing, seized his double-barreled gun, and bolted into the cold without. It was dark, and he fired at random. The first shot missed, but the second wounded him, and he went limping down the hill. The doctor gave chase and returned with the game, but came near paying dear for his prize, barely escaping without frozen feet.
On Sunday, the twenty-ninth, in the midst of pensive allusions, and more pensive thoughts, concerning home, in which even Petersen's weather-beaten face betrayed a tear, an Esquimo boy came in from Akbat. His bearing was manly, his countenance fresh and agreeable, if not handsome, and his dress, of the usual material, was new. He drove a fine team with decided spirit. He was evidently somebody's pet, and we thought we saw a mother's partial stamp upon him. He was on his way to Netlik, and our curious inquiries brought from him the blushing acknowledgment that he was going "a courting!" He was nothing loath to talk of his sweetheart, and he bore her a bundle of bird-skins to make her an under garment as love-token. We gave him a pocket-knife and a piece of wood, to which we added two needles for his lady-love. He was full of joy at this good fortune, but when Sontag added a string of beads for her his cup run over. He had on his sledge two small pieces of blubber, a pound of bear's meat, a bit of bear's skin. These he laid at our feet, and dashed off toward Netlik in fine spirits.
When he was gone we renewed our ever-returning, perplexing, never-settled question, What shall we do? We could agree on no plans of escape, for all seemed impossible of execution. Yet we did agree in the expediency of opening a communication with the brig. But how to do it was the question.
Our dependence upon the Esquimo growing more humiliatingly absolute every day, pained us. We feared their treachery, of which we already saw some signs. "What shall we do?" was ever repeated.
While thus perplexed, Kalutunah made his appearance. With him were a young hunter, and a woman with a six months' old baby. The little one was wrapped in fox-skin, and thrust into its mother's hood, which hung on her neck behind. It peered out of its hiding-place with a contented and curious expression of face. Its mother had come forty miles, sometimes walking over the hummocky way, with the thermometer thirty-eight degrees below zero, with a liability of encountering terrific storms, and all to see the white men and their igloë. Mother and child arrived in good condition.
We conversed with the chief about our plan of going to Upernavik on sledges, and proposed to buy teams of his people, or hire them to drive us there. He received the proposal with a decided dissent, amounting almost to resentment. His people, he said, would not sell dogs at any price; they had only enough to preserve their own lives.
This we knew to be false. We offered a great price, but he scorned the bribe, and talked with an expression of horror about our plan of passing with sledges over the Frozen Sea, as he called Melville Bay.
While we were urging the sale by him of dogs and sledges he looked quizzically at our emaciated forms and sunken cheeks, and turning to the woman with a significant twinkle in his eye, he sucked in his cheeks. She returned the knowing glance, and sucked in her cheeks. This meant: We shall get all the white men's coveted things without paying when we find them starved and dead. This was a comforting view of the case—for them.
We dropped the plan of going south, and proposed to the chief to carry some of our party to the ship. This he readily assented to, and said at least four sledges should go with Petersen, if to each driver should be given a knife and piece of wood. We closed the bargain gladly, and Petersen was to start in the morning.
Guests and entertainers now sought rest. We gave the mother and child our bed in the corner. This was to us a self-denying act of courtesy, compelled by policy. We had usually given a good distance between us and such lodgers on account of certain specimens of natural history which swarmed upon their bodies, which, though starving, we did not desire. But to put her in a meaner place would be a serious affront, for which we might be obliged to pay dearly.
About midnight voices were heard outside, and soon our young lover, the boy-hunter, entered, accompanied by a widow who was neither young, nor beautiful. The hut was in instant confusion. There was but little more sleep for the night, which was peculiarly hard on Petersen, who was to start in the morning on his long journey.
We had no food with which to treat our guests, which they saw, and so supped upon the provisions which they brought. The widow ate raw young birds, of which she brought a supply saved over from the summer. The Angekok had decided that her husband's spirit had taken temporary residence in a walrus, so she was forbidden that animal. She chewed choice bits of her bird and offered them to us. We tried politely to decline the kindness, but our refusal plainly offended her.
The widow's husband had been carried out to sea on an ice-raft on the sudden breaking up of the floe, and had never been heard from. Whenever his name was mentioned she burst into tears. Petersen told us that, according to Esquimo custom in such cases, we were expected to join in the weeping.
At the first attempt our success was very indifferent. On the next occasion we equaled in sincerity and naturalness the expressed sorrow of the heirs of a rich miser over his mortal remains. Even the tears we managed so well that the widow, charitably forgetting our former affront, offered us more chewed meat.
In the morning Petersen was off, Godfrey accompanying him at his own option.
The same evening John and Sontag went south with the widow and young hunter. Thus four of us only were left in the hut, and of these, one, Stephenson, was seriously sick. His death at any time would not have been a surprise to us. The hut was colder than ever, and our food nearly gone. A few books, among which was a little Bible, the gift of a friend, were a great source of comfort.
In a few days John and Sontag returned. They had fared well during their absence. They were accompanied by two Esquimo, who brought us food for a few days, for which they demanded an exorbitant price. They, like people claiming a higher civilization, took advantage of our necessity. When they were about to depart on a bear hunt, Dr. Hayes proposed that two of us accompany them with our guns, but they declined. We went with them to the beach, saw them start, watched them as they swiftly glided over the ice, and, dodging skillfully around the hummocks, faded into a black speck in the distance.
The day was spent as one of rest by four of our number, while two of us visited the traps, returning as usual with nothing. The evening came. A cup of good coffee revived us. The temperature of our den came up to the freezing point. We were in the midst of this feast of hot coffee and increased warmth, when we heard a footfall. We hailed in Esquimo, but no answer. Soon the outer door of our passage way opened, a man entered and fell prostrate with a deep moan. It was Petersen. He crept slowly in as we opened the door, staggered across the hut, and fell exhausted on the breck.
Godfrey soon followed, even more exhausted. They both called piteously for "water! water!"
They were in no condition to explain what had happened. We stripped them of their frozen garments, rubbed their stiffened limbs, and rolled them in warm blankets. We gave them of our hot coffee, and the warmth of the hut and dry clothes revived them, but the sudden and great change was followed by a brief cloud over their minds. They fell into a disturbed sleep, and their sudden starts, groans, and mutterings, told of some terrible distress.
Petersen, while sipping his coffee, had told us that the Esquimo had thrown off their disguise and had attempted to murder them; that he and Godfrey had walked all the way from Netlik with the Esquimo in hot pursuit. We must watch, he said, for if off our guard they might overwhelm us with numbers.
This much it was necessary for us to know; the details of their terrible experience he was in no mood to give.
We immediately set a watch outside, who was relieved every hour; he was armed with Bonsall's rifle. Our other guns we fired off and carefully reloaded, hanging them upon their pegs for instant use.
Petersen and Godfrey awoke once, ate, and lay down to their agitated sleep. No others slept, or even made the attempt. The creak of the boots of the sentinel as he tramped his beat near the hut, on a little plain cleared of snow by the wind, was the only sound which broke the solemn silence. The enemy would not dare attack us except unawares, knowing, as they did, that there were eight of us, armed with guns. At midnight noises were heard about the rocks of the coast. They were watching, but seeing the sentinel, and finding it a chilling business to wait for our cessation of vigilance, they sneaked away. In the morning one of our men visited the rocky coverts and found their fresh tracks.
We received at the earliest opportunity the details of Petersen's story. They left us on the third of November, and were gone four days. They arrived in Netlik in nine hours, and were lodged one in each of the two igloës. Their welcome had a seeming heartiness. They had a full supply set before them of tender young bear-steak and choice puppy stew. Many strangers were present, and they continued to come until the huts were crowded.
The next day the hunters all started early on the chase, to get, as Kalutunah said, a good supply for their excursion to the ship, as well as a store for their families. This looked reasonable, but when night came the chief and a majority of the men returned not, nor did they appear the next day. The moon had just passed its full, no time could be spared for trifling, and Petersen grew uneasy. This feeling was increased by the strangers which continued to come, the running to and fro of the women, the side glances, and the covert laugh among the crowd.
Kalutunah returned on the evening of the third day of our men at the hut. Several sledges accompanied him, and one of them was driven by a brawny savage by the name of Sipsu. He had shown his ugly face once at our hut. He was above the usual height, broad-chested and strong limbed. He had a few bristly hairs upon his chin and upper lip, and dark, heavy eyebrows overshadowed his well set, evil-looking eyes. He was every inch a savage. While the crowd laughed, joked, and fluttered curiously about the strangers, Sipsu was dignified, sullen, or full of dismal stories. He had, he said, killed two men of his tribe. They were poor hunters, so he stole upon them from behind a hummock, and harpooned them in the back.
Whatever shrewdness Sipsu possessed, he did not have wit enough to hide his true character from his intended victims.
About twelve sledges were now collected, and Petersen supposed they would start early in the morning for the "Advance," so he ventured to try to hurry them a few hours by suggesting midnight for the departure. To this suggestion they replied that they would not go at all, and that they never intended to go. The crowd in the hut greeted this announcement with uproarious laughter.
Petersen maintained a bold bearing. He rose and went to the other hut and put Godfrey upon the watch, telling him what had happened. He then returned and demanded good faith from the chiefs. They only muttered that they could not go north; they could not pass that "blowing place"—Cape Alexander. He then asked them to sell him a dog-team; he would pay them well. They evaded this question, and Sipsu said to Kalutunah, in a side whisper, "We can get his things in a cheaper way."
Now commenced the game of wait and watch between the two parties; the chiefs waited and watched to kill Petersen, and he waited and watched not to be killed. He had his gun outside, because the moisture of the hut condensing on the lock might prevent it from going off. He had told the crowd that if they touched it it might kill them, and this fear was its safety. Those inside thought he had a pistol concealed under his garments. They had seen such articles, and witnessed their deadly power. Their purpose now was to get possession of this weapon, and Sipsu was the man to do it.
Petersen, cool as he was prompt and skillful, had not betrayed his suspicions of them; so he threw himself upon the breck and feigned himself asleep, to draw out their plans.
The strategy worked well. The gossiping tongues of men, women, and children loosened when they thought him asleep, and they revealed all their secrets. Petersen and Godfrey were to be killed on the spot, and our hut was to be surprised before Sontag and John returned from the south. Sipsu the while moved softly toward Petersen to search for the pistol. Just at this moment Godfrey came to the window and hallooed to learn if his chief was alive. Petersen rose from his sham sleep and went out. A crowd were at the door and about the gun, but they dared not touch it. The intended victims kept a bold front, and coolly proposed a hunt. This the natives declined, and they declared they would go alone.
It was late in the night when our beset and worried men started. They were watched sullenly until they were two miles away, and then the sledges were harnessed for the pursuit. Fifty yelping dogs mingled their cries with those of the men, and made a fiendish din in the ears of the flying fugitives. What could they do if the dogs were let loose upon them, having only a single rifle! One thing they intended should be sure; Sipsu or Kalutunah should die in the attack.
When the pursuers seemed at the very heels of our men, that one gun made cowards of the Esquimo chiefs. They seemed to understand their danger. The whole pack of dogs and men turned seaward, and disappeared among the hummocks. They meant a covert attack.
Keeping the shore and avoiding the hiding-places, Petersen and Godfrey pressed on. The night was calm and clear, but the cold was over fifty degrees below zero. When half way, at Cape Parry, they well-nigh fainted and fell. But encouraging each other, they still hurried onward, and made the fifty miles (it was forty in a straight line) in twenty-four hours. The reader understands why they arrived in such distress and exhaustion.