Finally, at four o’clock on the morning of July 30, the fog began to lift and by eleven it was fine and clear again, with a strong north-northeast wind. The Sachs was nowhere to be seen; in fact the Karluk did not see her again. We were now close to Cape Thompson, steaming towards Point Hope. At ten o’clock in the evening we dropped anchor off Point Hope, near the Eskimo village. The Eskimo in their skin-boats and whaleboats came out to meet us, to trade dogs, boats, furs and sealskins. About midnight we moved nearer to the land, and early in the morning Stefansson went ashore to continue the trading and make arrangements for the services of Panyurak and Asatshak, two Eskimo boys eighteen or twenty years old, who also went by the names of Jerry and Jimmy and were good dog-drivers and hunters. Stefansson had lived so many years with the Eskimo of Alaska and the Mackenzie River region, that he knew them personally, men, women and children, from Point Barrow east along the northern coast, as well as I knew the Eskimo of Whale Sound on the Greenland coast, that little tribe of Arctic Highlanders, numbering only about two hundred and forty, from whom we chose the Eskimo that accompanied us on the Roosevelt to Cape Sheridan and played so important a part in the attainment of the North Pole. Later in the morning of the thirty-first, we weighed anchor and steamed around to the north side of Point Hope, where we did more trading, and then proceeded on our way up the coast. By noon we had Cape Lisburne a-beam and shaped our course for Icy Cape, to go about ten miles outside of Blossom Shoals, a dangerous reef off Blossom Point, which has always been dreaded by mariners. Our scientists were busily engaged in writing letters, to be mailed at Point Barrow and taken back on the Bear which calls there once a year, usually in August.
Thus far our progress all along had been satisfactory. Early on the morning of August 1, however, we began to note indications of the presence of ice on our weather side. The water began to get smoother, and when we tested its temperature by hauling up a bucketful at intervals, as the day wore on, we found it dropping steadily, until it reached thirty-nine degrees; the water changed color, too, becoming dirtier. Finally in the afternoon we could see the ice plainly on our port bow. We had seen the “ice-blink” for some time before; now the ice itself hove in sight about two miles away, with some larger pieces scattered here and there among the floes. I learned afterwards that up to a few days before we should have had clear water all the way to Point Barrow. The ice curved in towards the shore, so that we had to change our course; we had been steaming parallel with the land but now we had to head towards shore or else run the danger of being caught in the ice. About midnight our progress was still further barred and we had to turn around and steam back to windward for a mile or so to keep in the open water, for the strong north wind was driving the ice towards the land. The next day the wind changed and blew off the land; this started the ice off shore and we were able to move eastward, but soon the offshore breeze died down and we had to turn back again. Finally in the afternoon we made another attempt, with some success; we were gradually nearing Point Barrow.
CHAPTER III
WE MEET THE ICE AND GET A POLAR BEAR
While we were steaming along off Point Belcher, about seventy-five miles to the southwest of Point Barrow, I was in the crow’s nest, which on the Karluk was situated at the foretopgallant-mast, conning the ship through the broken ice, when through my binoculars I saw a polar bear about three miles away on the level floe. This was a welcome sight, for the meat would be an addition to our current food supply and the hide useful in several ways. There was no wind, so the bear did not scent us. At first we could not go towards him because the ice was too closely packed,—in fact at times we had to steam away from him to follow the open lanes of water—but finally we managed to get headed in the right direction. When we got within a few hundred yards of him he spied us and promptly went into the water. That was just what I wanted; if he had stayed on the ice he would probably have started to run and as he could run much faster than the ship could steam he would probably have got away from us.
With the bear in the water I now worked the ship to keep between him and the ice and as polar bears, though they are good swimmers, do not often dive, I knew that with ordinary luck we should get him. Shouting to the mate to keep an eye on him I ran down the rope-ladder from the barrel and rushed forward to the forecastle-head with a Winchester in my hand. Some of the other members of the expedition, too, hearing the word bear, grabbed their rifles and blazed away at him. Every one was pretty much excited and for a few moments the bear seemed possessed of a charmed life. At last my second shot hit him in the back and my third in the head. This finished him; he keeled over and floated. We lowered a boat, towed the bear to the side and hoisted him on board; then the Eskimo skinned him. He was old and, as he had on his summer coat, his hair was sparse and yellow and of no great value. The Eskimo cut up the meat for dog food; we should have used it ourselves if we had not just obtained a large supply of fresh meat at Nome and Port Clarence.
The skin of this old bear had something of a history. The Eskimo stretched it on a frame and hung it up in the rigging for the wind and sun to cure it. I had a pair of trousers made from the softest part of the skin, which later I gave to Malloch. From the remainder I had a sleeping-robe made which I used on the ice from the time the ship sank until I reached the coast of Siberia. There I traded it for a deerskin which I afterwards gave to a native at East Cape. The skin of the polar bear makes the best sleeping-robe for Arctic use and the skin of a young bear is also the best for trousers, because it will wear the longest and, furthermore, the hair will not fall out, in spite of the brushing and pounding you have to give it to get rid of the snow that will cling to it after the day’s march.
Some time after we got this bear, I saw another one from the crow’s nest. We were going away from him, however, and getting along pretty well, so I hardly felt it wise to stop for him. Occasionally we saw walrus asleep on the ice.
August 3 the wind again veered to the southwest, pushing the ice on shore and jamming the ship in it so that we were unable to make any progress. We were about four miles off the Seahorse Islands. Here we found a current running to the eastward parallel with the shore and we began to drift with this current in an easterly direction which was the way we wanted to go. By eleven o’clock we had reached a point about two miles from shore and twenty-five miles southwest of Point Barrow.
The early presence of ice on this coast convinced us that all was not to be plain sailing on our voyage to Herschel Island and that it behooved us to save every hour possible. With this in mind, Stefansson now decided to go ashore and make his way to Point Barrow on foot. He would need at least a day there to obtain furs for our use and he could have his work all done by the time we reached there. Accordingly, at eleven o’clock, he took the doctor and a couple of Eskimo, with a dog sledge, and went ashore over the ice, the Eskimo and the dog-sledge returning late in the afternoon. It was summer and there was no snow or ice on the land so by walking all night in the continuous August daylight, Stefansson and the doctor reached Point Barrow in the morning.