A Voyage to the Arctic in the Whaler Aurora

by David Moore Lindsay

May 17th. Saturday. We expected to sight the land, so were on the lookout. The weather was cloudy and there was a southeast breeze, so everything was set and drawing. The clouds lifted about noon and in the distance the snow-covered mountains of Greenland could be seen. At first it was difficult to tell which was mountain and which cloud. By and by, however, the forbidding coast grew distinct.

Our objective point was Holstenborg and the mate was in the crow's-nest examining the shore for the Danish colors. Some small bergs were scattered over the water and a narrow shore floe was fast to the coast.

To the north of us the Knights Reefs ran far out to sea and on these some larger bergs had grounded. The ship was slowed down and all her canvas stowed. Finally the engines were stopped, and after a little while, the captain ordered the ship put about as he could not pick up the settlement. I heard the order given and was greatly disappointed as I longed to see an Eskimo.

Just then the mate called out that he saw a kayak coming off, so the ship lay to and waited. I repaired to the fore top and presently saw two kayaks coming toward us. There was quite a splash on, but the sun had now come out and the scene interested me intensely.

The little boats were almost submerged and the occupants were wet and glistened in the sunlight.

When they came alongside, I saw that the kayaks were about 15 feet long, with little knobs of ivory decorating bow and stern, and were about 18 inches wide at the widest part and covered with skin.

One Eskimo sat in each. The edge of the hole in which he sat was raised a couple of inches and over this he had pulled his skin coat, wrapped a lash around it and made it water-tight. The paddle was trimmed with ivory and the dusky faces of the almond-eyed navigators were all smiles as they looked at us and showed their white teeth. A whale boat was lowered and each canoe lifted in, Eskimo and all, then they left their boats, shook hands with every one around and went on to the bridge, where they remained until the ship was at anchor off the village.

Holstenborg consisted of a church, which was also a schoolhouse, a shop where the deputy governor lived, and the governor's house. There were a number of native houses—awful places, built of turf. A long low passage led to the door of each. As the weather was comparatively warm, this passage was generally very wet, and when the door of the house opened, the smell was overpowering. Inside sat women at work with their needles, or dressing skins. When the ship came to anchor off the shore floe, a boat-load of ladies came on board. A Greenland belle was a well dressed person. Her hair was folded several times and then wound about with a ribbon, so that it stood up upon the top of the head; the fold of the hair above the ribbon was rather fanshaped, and the color of the ribbon indicated whether the lady was married, single, or a widow. Possibly there were degrees of wrapping, and shades of the color, indicating the number of times she had been married, and the depths of despair into which her various bereavements had reduced her. This simple record of her past was an excellent arrangement in a country where there were no society papers,—a sort of personal totem carried on the head, so that he or she who ran might read. Of course, in lower latitudes, where high civilization and divorce courts exist, shortness of hair would render some records so incomplete that the Greenland method is never likely to supplant the present ready references to be found amongst interested and observing neighbors. A bodice was worn, made of some cheerful colored stuff procured at the shop or from whalers. Tight fitting trousers, made of bay seal skin and extending down to the knees, came next, and very gaudy boots of colored skin. Down the front of each leg of the trousers was a stripe 1 1/2 inches wide, of colored skin, and the boots, especially around the tops, were very ornate. Many of the girls were good-looking, and on their arrival a ball commenced in the 'tween-decks which lasted while they were there; fiddles and concertinas supplying the music. These instruments were played by whalers and Eskimos equally well, and they knew the same airs. Most of our visitors had articles to barter and they wanted bread in return more than anything else, but accepted colored handkerchiefs and other trifles.

Slippers and tobacco pouches were their principal stock in trade, but there were some down quilts, prettily bordered with the green necks of the eider duck. Captain Fairweather and myself spent a pleasant evening with the governor and his deputy, and it was interesting to hear the music of civilization played on a piano by the wife of the latter.

Coming away, they gave us a lot of quaint ivories made by the natives, from walrus tusks, such as brooches, pipes, paper knives, etc., etc.