The movie man from Point Hope is a somewhat spoiled, gossipy, and roughshod, but otherwise, a good-hearted big kid—not very wise, but not mischievous, and more than efficient in his own calling. Is 40, but already aging, like a weather-beaten poplar—not pine or oak. Is violently against all "kikes," or eastern money-lending Jews, from whom he used to borrow at usurious interest and who sold him out once or twice when he could not pay.
Lost Jim Allen and dropped the nurse, but are still too many. At 10 p. m., just as the minister and I have retired, there comes a call for the former to go up. A couple of Eskimos have arrived, with their friends, to be married. So he dresses and performs the function. I am too weary to rise and dress to go and look at it. He says it was quite tame. Then the anchor, and once more we are off. No ice any more, and the sea has again a swell, which was absent in the ice-covered waters.
Wednesday, August 11. Swell, but not bad, though one of the women, another nurse, is ill, and the other, a "writer," etc., will not get up for breakfast. Quite a problem now to get washed and shaved. Both the minister (archdeacon) and the movie man like to use perfumed things, and the former takes much time with his toilet, so I endeavor as before to be first up.
August 12. A great day. Was called a little after 12.30 a. m., after but little sleep (through anticipation), to examine a site ashore—a coal mine, a water source, and possibly something human. Two miles to shore, in semidarkness; no night yet in these regions. A long tramp over the mossy and grassy tundra; mosquitoes. One native igloo, and on a little elevation some distance off a grave of a child; otherwise nothing. After examination of the coal strata, a curious secondary inclusion in sand and gravel, and the stream of water (good to drink, even if not clear), we depart and reach ship again after 4 a. m.
Beginning to be—in fact am already—a "night doctor," for sure. Never thought I could stand such doings, but am standing it, and that even with some cold and bothersome night cough. But am sure short on sleeping, for it is impossible for me to catch up during the days; am not a day sleeper. I suppose when one is most of the time half hungry his mind naturally reverts to hunger, as mine does to sleep.
We are due to-day again at Point Hope, and I am anxious for a little time there.
At night. This was a day of harvest. Reached Point Hope about 3 p. m., but had to go around again to the other side, due to the swell and surf on the north. I went to shore in the first boat, about 4 p. m. Doctor Goodman, with whom we are very friendly, was with me and promised to go over and help me get some men with whom I want to excavate the burial hole of his predecessor. But when on the shore stays behind and remains. So we go on with my man from the ship to the whalebone graveyard. Near there see two Eskimo men with some dogs. They smile; so I tell them what I want; in two minutes have engaged them; in about three more we begin to dig, and in about five minutes after strike first bones.
My good friend the boatswain, Mr. Berg, comes to help, and as I now have four to work I take a bag and go on collecting a little more over the plains beyond where we are. Get a good bag. Find another good-natured Eskimo, Frank, coming from fishing, engage him to help carrying and eventually to take place of one of my first workers, who is an old man. Then we see Doctor Goodman, far away, coming to the mission. Borrow two more shovels from his stock and a few coal bags. Meanwhile bone and skull pile is fairly exposed from one side and top gravel partly removed, so I give up intended trip to old village site and, as we were given only to 9.30 p. m., go to work on the pile.
A great deal here. More than anticipated, though all is a jumble, with the long and other bones of the skeleton on the top. The work is to get down in the moist gravel, disengage one bone and skull after another as rapidly as possible, give it a rapid look-over, and either save, if fairly well preserved or showing some special feature, or discard. If saved, the specimen is handed to one of the Eskimo, who cleans it of gravel, lays it out to dry a little, and then places it gently in a bag.
Many of the bones and skulls were found so damaged that they had to be left. But much was also good. The strenuous work, however, had to go on without interruption and at the fullest possible speed, if the main part of what was there was to be saved. So no supper, no stop for even a minute, until after 8 p. m. Sixteen bags full, and some of the sacks quite spacious. At last had to give up—no more time, no sacks, and lower down everything frozen as hard as flint. The main part, however, secured—183 good skulls, several hundred lower jaws, and a lot of long and other bones. This, together with the rest of the material from this place, ought to give us data of much value.