Village site small, along the edge of the low (about 10 feet) bluff. Count remains of eight dwellings. Some animal bones, but nothing else on surface or in vicinity. Burial place not seen. Companion says there is nothing.
A simple supper at the trader's, prepared by his Eskimo wife, and good company: Doctor Smith, of the Geological Survey, with two of his men; Jim Allen, the storekeeper, a big, good-hearted fellow; La Voy, the big, active movie man, who knows all the gossip and enjoys telling it with embellishment; and two men of the trader. Menu: Soup, boiled reindeer meat, underdone biscuits, coffee.
After supper go to a meeting at the school, where our missionary, Doctor Goodman, is to talk to the natives. Large schoolroom crowded. I talk through an interpreter—a serious disadvantage—on cleanliness. Fine study for me on the many present, though like elsewhere on such occasions they are mainly women and children. Good many Indianlike faces, though cheekbones more prominent and more flatness between them. But hair, low foreheads, eyes (except in children where they are more superficial, less sunken, and with more epicanthus than in Indians), lips, and other characteristics the same as in Indians. Some of the faces are strong, many among the younger pleasant, some of the young women handsome. A moderate number of mix bloods, even among the adults. Color of skin in full bloods medium to submedium brown, exactly as in full-blood Indians along the Yukon, but cheeks more dusky red.
The behavior of these people is in all important points radically that of the Indian, but they are more approachable and open and matter-of-fact people. More easily civilized. Good mechanics. Less superstitious, more easily converted to white man's religion. And good singers. Their singing at the meeting in the schoolhouse would have shamed a good many whites in this respect.
Except for epidemics, I am told, these natives would more than hold their own in numbers. They are fecund, if conditions are right. Sterility is rare. They marry fairly young.
August 3. Still standing, though we had to pull out farther south and away from the shore. The water was pretty rough and I had to go to bed again, but weather moderated.
We are in touch with the world through the ship's radio, but get more trash—same all through the radio service in Alaska—than serious news. Spend time in reading, talking; some play solitaire games; captain and Allen play cribbage. Deck too small for any outside games, even if it were not so cold.
Ice floes floating about us, now scarce, now thicker; water splashing against them and wearing them out into pillared halls, mushrooms, and other strange forms. Due to their snow covering, the water upon them, so far as it results from melting, is sweet, and in it swim many small fishes. It snowed a bit again to-day.
August 4. No change, except that the sea is somewhat calmer, and for a while we have once more seen the sun, but it was hazy and just mildly warm, while the same wind, from the sea, even though now subdued, has an icy undertone. It snowed a little this morning.
Thursday, August 5. Sea calm, atmosphere hazy, but the wind has turned at last slightly offshore and the sun penetrates through the mists, until it conquers and shines, warm and bright if not wholly clear, once more. Ice visible only on the horizon. At 7.15 we start on another effort to reach Barrow.