The last voyage of the Karluk

by Bob Bartlett; Ralph T. Hale

Turning to the boy, I took a dog with one hand and the revolver with the other and made signs that if I could have the dog, the revolver was his. The old man demurred, but the boy took him off where they could talk the matter over and presently the old man came back and signified that he would agree to the bargain. Kataktovick looked over the dog he offered us and we agreed that it was not much good, so I pointed to a better dog and indicated that he was my choice. The old man shook his head but offered to let me have the dog if I would add the binoculars to the revolver. I in turn shook my head, took the revolver and the cartridges from the boy and prepared to leave. At that the old man gave in and handed over the dog and a harness; so I gave the revolver and the cartridges back to the boy, hitched up the dog and we were soon on our way again. The dog was a strong, little, white fellow, and worked well. Our old Whitey was well enough now to trot along behind the sledge, but could do no work yet. Including Whitey we now had six dogs.

It was about three o’clock when we left the old man’s aranga. About sunset, which now came at seven o’clock, we met a party of Chukches, with three teams of dogs, bound westward towards Cape North. We stopped for a few minutes’ conversation and I found that they had come from Cape Onman at the mouth of Koliuchin Bay. They told me that they would reach the aranga which we had last left by the time it was dark, which would be in about an hour and a half. It had taken us four hours to cover the distance but we were walking whereas the Siberians had from sixteen to twenty-two dogs to each team and could therefore ride on the sledges and travel at good speed.

Shortly after we passed these men, we stopped and built our igloo for the night. We debated how we should manage about the two new dogs that we had acquired that day, whether we should tether them outside or take them into the igloo with us. I did not feel like taking any chances on leaving them outside so we brought them in, with their harness still on. When we lay down to sleep we tied their traces together and lay on the traces.

We had had a long and active day and soon fell fast asleep. The temperature outside was about fifty below zero. Sometime during the night I woke up, feeling pretty cold. There was a big hole in the side of the igloo. The dogs had worked their way out of the harness and got away. We had some tea and as soon as it became light enough I sent Kataktovick back to the aranga where we had obtained the last dog, which we called Colt; I thought it likely that the other dog would stop there, too. I told Kataktovick to get the man to harness up his sledge and ride back with him to save time. Several hours later Kataktovick came back with Colt and his late owner and we put Colt into our team again. The other dog, however, they had not seen; evidently he had gone right on. I gave the man a tin of pemmican for his trouble and we went on our way again.

It was long after sunset when we built our igloo for the night. I determined that Colt should not get away again, so we tied his mouth to prevent him from chewing his harness and took him into the igloo with us. In some way, however, he chewed himself free, broke out of the igloo and escaped. The distance was now too great to send back for him and I gave up all hope of ever seeing him again.

With our dogs again reduced to four, two of which were of little use, we got away at five o’clock the next morning. Early in the afternoon we came upon an old man and a boy, collecting big logs of driftwood. I asked the old man what he was going to do with the logs, but could not understand his reply. Perhaps he planned to build a house or a boat. He had a tent in which he was living and I gathered he was going to move eastward that afternoon. We made a fire of driftwood and had some tea and then went on. Kataktovick told me that he understood from the old man that he would probably overtake us later on and give us a lift with his sledge. Sure enough, a couple of hours before sunset, he came up with us and invited us to ride. The snow was light and powdery and I had been wearing my snowshoes all day. The dogs, too, had made hard going of it on account of the condition of the snow. I accepted the old man’s invitation, therefore, to ride on the sledge but after about ten minutes found it so cold sitting still that I got off, resumed my snowshoes and walked.

When it was nearly dark we stopped and set up the old man’s big tent. The northwest wind was growing stronger and the snow was drifting. I got the Primus stove going and made tea for all four of us and we all had pemmican. The old man and his son had nothing much of their own to eat.

We were just finishing our supper when the men with the three dog-teams, whom we had passed three days before, came up; they had been to Cape North and were now returning. We filled the Primus stove again, made them some tea and gave them some pemmican to eat. After a while they informed me that they had the white dog Colt that had got away from us. The old man had sent him back by them. I was taken completely by surprise and to say that I was glad to see him would be putting it mildly. Nothing could have exceeded that old man’s honesty and generosity; once he had gone to the trouble of bringing Colt back himself, and now he had sent him back. It was simply one of the many instances of fine humanity which I met with among these Chukches. All honor and gratitude to them!

The new arrivals and ourselves sat in the tent and attempted conversation. They were sociable and friendly, like all the others whom we met, but Kataktovick, as I afterwards learned, never quite succeeded in conquering his misgivings. It was difficult to make them understand and sometimes I would get excited and talk in loud and emphatic tones. This would arouse Kataktovick’s fears and he would say: “You must not talk that way.” He was afraid they would misunderstand my earnestness and take offense. The same thing had happened before and Kataktovick was always afraid of the consequences.

On the fourteenth we had a high westerly gale. The men with the three dog teams got away before we did. They said our dogs were slow and they were in a hurry. I tried to buy a dog from them with my binoculars but could not tempt them.