Monday, August 9. At 12.30 a. m., unexpectedly, a new start. The wind has turned at last (new moon!) to northeast, but is mild. Soon in ice. Many bumps and much creaking and shaking. Captain's collie gets scared and tries to get into our beds, one after another. But very little sleep under these conditions.
In the morning we find ourselves in a thicker ice field than any before, with floes on all sides. Boat barely creeps. Toward 10 a. m. further progress found almost impossible, and so forced to turn backward once more. However, can not even go back and so, near 12, anchor about a mile offshore opposite a small river with lagoon-like mouth and two tents of natives—"Shinara," or "Shinerara."
Ask captain for a boat to visit and explore the coast. Consents, and so at 1 we go forth, about eight of us, with the captain's dog. Reach Eskimo, photograph the group. All look remarkably Indianlike. Then go to look for skeletal material. Nothing near, so return for the Eskimo boy. He leads me about a mile over the highland tundra to two burials in boxes—not old. Look through crevices shows in one an adolescent, in the other a female (or a boy) with hair and skin still on. Leave both.
Then into the boat once more after buying some fossil teeth, and with the boy Isaac—his father is Abraham—try to go into the river, and soon get stuck in the stickiest mud (oily shale) imaginable—great work to clean even the oar with which we had to push ourselves off. Land then on the beach and for the next two hours explore that side of the basin. Find remains of two small settlements—seven huts in all, none very old.
Gather five skulls with parts of four skeletons, most bones missing; also some mushrooms, several interesting humeri of seals, and a piece of pumice-like fossil bone. Near 4.30 begins to rain a bit so we hurry to boat, and in a little while, after depositing Isaac near his camp, reach the Bear.
Eskimo on shore had two skinned seal lying on the ground, and there were many reindeer horns. A pile of them was over a fire, being smoked.
The wind has been the whole day from the northeast, the long-wished-for wind, and the ice has moved out sufficiently to induce the captain to make another start. So at 5 p. m. off we go again, and for quite a while the screw sings merrily, until we reach some remaining ice, when there are more bumps and staggers.
The waters about the ship show, whenever calmer, the heads of swimming seal, grown and little. But they are wary and keep at a distance. Otherwise the only live things are an occasional gull, and rarely a couple of ducks. In the icy water, however, on and about the floes, are seen again numerous small, dark fish (from the size of a big minnow to that of a tomcod); and along the shore swim merrily hundreds of very tame and graceful little snipes, lovely small birds, too little, luckily, to be hunted.
Little enthusiasm about my collecting, but the boatswain and some at least of the men are genuinely helpful. I believe some of the others are a bit superstitious. But I get some chance at least, and that is precious.
Expect to reach Barrow before 12 p. m., and to start back before morning—a big chance for some sleep again if I want to do some collecting. Sleep, through the frequent lack of it, has become a kind of obsession in one's thoughts, yet when there were chances during the days of waiting it would not come.