Thursday, July 29. In anticipation of being called up again during the night, at Point Hope, which is evidently another important spot for archeological exploration, for the natives are said to bring many old articles for sale each year, I do not undress and go to bed earlier, but have, because of the anticipation, closeness of air, and a cat jumping on my face just as I am dozing off, a very poor night; and no call came after all. In the morning there are cold showers, the sky is much clouded, and the wind keeps on blowing from the north-northwest, threatening, the officers say, to drive the ice toward this shore, which would be bad for us. It is cool and disagreeable. We have anchored to the south of the spit on which stands the village and can not unload or get ashore. Nor can the natives come here to us.
The village consists of a schoolhouse, a little mission (Rev. F. W. Goodman), an accumulation of houses, semi-subterraneans, and tents. A few tents are also seen a good distance to the right—a reindeer camp. Otherwise there is nothing but the long, low, sandy, and grassy spit projecting far out into the ocean.
Later. The north-northwest still blows, and so the ship has to anchor to the south of the long spit on the point of which is the village. Of this but little can be seen, just a few houses, and it seems near and insignificant.
The captain is evidently waiting again for the natives to come out, and I am helpless. Finally, however, a boat is made ready and I am taken to the shore with the mail. This is piled on the beach, and with two officers we start to walk toward the dwellings opposite to us, which are the mission. Heavy walking in the loose sand and gravel of the steep beach, and as we ascend it is seen the buildings which seemed so near to the shore are about a mile or more away.
A man coming toward us—the missionary, Archdeacon Goodman. Tell him my mission; says he has some business on the ship, but will come, and there will be no trouble in helping me to a "good deal of what I want," which sounds fine.
In the absence of the missionary, go to see the teacher. The school is over a mile in the direction toward the point. Find him at home and helpful. In 15 minutes, with his aid, engage two native boys, give two sacks to each, and send them out over the long flats (old beaches) to pick up every skull and jaw they can find. They go cheerfully, and we depart shortly after to see Mr. La Voy, a movie-picture man, who has been staying here for some time making movie pictures of the natives, and at the same time collecting all the antiquities they could bring him. We go to see his collection, but find him not home; has gone for mail. The rare mail in these regions is, of course, the most important of events. So back to the school (a good many rods from the sod house part of the native village to the left), and then—it is now near noon—to the mission, a good mile from the school and more from the village.
Road staked on one side with whale ribs about 2 rods distance. Flats on both sides show many parts of bleached human bones. They are a part of the old extensive burial grounds. Unfortunately, about two years ago the predecessor of the present missionary had most of the skulls and bones collected and put in a hole in the new cemetery, now seen in the distance to the right of the mission. This new burial place is surrounded by a unique whale-rib fence. Reach mission, but no one there. Does not look good. Try one building and door after another—no one—learn later that the missionary has no family. Twenty minutes to 1. Nothing remains but to go back to the school for some lunch. So leave my raincoat, camera, and remaining bags (expecting to do main work on the buried bones) and hurry back to the school, which I reach just after 1, and, thanks to their late clock, just in time for a modest lunch, but with a real hot cup of coffee. Queer that the only genuinely hot cups of coffee I got on this journey were furnished by Eskimo—for Mrs. Moyer, the wife of the teacher, is an Eskimo.
Then comes the mail and Mr. La Voy, and I go to see the latter's collection.
Find a mass of old and modern material, of stone, bone, and wood. All the older things are from an old site on the point. It is an important and large site, as found later (at least 50 houses), which the natives (getting coffee, tea, chewing gum, chocolate, candy, etc., for what they find) are now busy digging over and ruining for scientific exploration. Women dig as well as men, confining themselves to from 2 to 3 uppermost feet that have thawed; but even thus finding a lot of specimens. Bones, of course, and other things are left and no observation whatever on the site is made. It is a pity.
Mr. La Voy donates some stone objects, mainly scrapers, and then I go with a native he employs to the "diggings." Find much already turned over—one woman actually digging—but very much more still remaining. Examine everything—site evidently not ancient but of the richest—and then return with the woman to get some of her "cullings."