“Washington’s birthday, February 22nd, was, however, a day of better omen. Hans had had a shot—a long shot—at a deer, but he had wounded him, and the injured animal, they knew, would not run far. Next morning Hans was out early on the trail of the wounded deer. Rhina, the least barbarous of the sledge dogs, assisted him. He was back by noon with the joyful news, ‘The tukkuk dead only two miles up big fiord!’ The cry found its way through the hatch, and came back in a broken huzza from the sick men.
“We are so badly off for strong arms that our reindeer threatened to be a great embarrassment to us. We had hard work with our dogs carrying him to the brig, and still harder, worn down as we were, in getting him over the ship’s side. But we succeeded, and were tumbling him down the hold, when we found ourselves in a dilemma like the Vicar of Wakefield with his family picture. It was impossible to drag the prize into our little moss-lined dormitory; the tossut was not half big enough to let him pass; and it was equally impossible to skin him anywhere else without freezing our fingers in the operation.
“It was a happy escape from the embarrassments of our hungry little council to determine that the animal might be carved before skinning as well as he could be afterwards; and, in a very few minutes we proved our united wisdom by a feast on his quartered remains.
“It was a glorious meal, such as the compensations of Providence reserve for starving men alone. We ate, forgetful of the past, and almost heedless of the morrow; cleared away the offal wearily, and now, at 10 P.M., all hands have turned in to sleep, leaving to their commanding officer the solitary honour of an eight hours’ vigil.
“The deer was among the largest of all the northern specimens I have seen. He measured five feet one inch in girth, and six feet two inches in length, and stood as large as a two years’ heifer. We estimated his weight at three hundred pounds.”
But such a happy experience was quite exceptional at this time. Other expeditions to the Esquimaux at this time demonstrated that they themselves were in a starving condition. On March 20th two of the men attempted to desert, but Kane had learned of their intentions, and confronted them as they were about to leave the vessel. One man, Godfrey, however, did succeed, his intention being apparently to reach the settlement at Etah Bay, and robbing Hans, their hunter, of sledge and dogs, proceed south to Netlik. He afterwards returned to the brig with this very sledge, reporting that Hans was [pg 247]lying sick at Etah, and that he himself intended to settle down among the Esquimaux. Both Bonsall and Kane were at this time hardly able to walk, while the rest, thirteen in all, were down with the scurvy. Shots were fired at him to make him change his mind, but he again escaped, and this circumstance, with Hans’ continued absence, naturally caused the commander much anxiety. Kane, though weak and dispirited, determined to go in search of both. The sequel was, that disguising himself as an Esquimaux, he succeeded in deceiving the deserter when he arrived at the village, and handcuffing him made him yield unconditionally; he returned to the brig as a prisoner. Hans, however, had been really ill.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Kane’s Expedition (concluded).
A Sad Entry—Farewell to the Brig—Departure for the South—Death of Ohlsen—Difficult Travelling—The Open Water—The Esquimaux of Etah—A Terrible Gale—Among the broken Floes—A Greenland Oasis—The Ice Cliff—Eggs by the Hundred—An Anxious Moment—A Savage Feast—The First Sign of Civilisation—Return to the Settlements—Home once more.