We have had a great house-cleaning in honor of the approaching holidays. I have replaced the cretonne curtains at the bottom of my bed, wash-stand, bookcase, and trunk, with new ones, and have put fresh muslin curtains at my windows. The boys have cleaned the large room, taking all superfluous lumber and tools out, and have even scrubbed the floor. The natives think we are crazy to waste so much water. Poor things, they think water was made only for drinking purposes.
Saturday, December 26. Just after I made the last entry in my journal, one of the boys reported that the tide-gage wire was broken. Mr. Peary, Verhoeff, and Gibson went out to put it in commission. After about an hour Verhoeff rushed into the house calling, “Doctor, Doctor, come out to the tide-gage as quick as you can!” The doctor, whose turn it was to be night watchman, and who was therefore asleep at this hour, tumbled out of his bunk and into his clothes, and made a rush for the tide-gage. I was lying in my bed suffering from the effects of a sick-headache; but never having fully recovered from the shock caused by Mr. Peary’s accident in Melville Bay, and realizing that he was not yet quite sure of his injured limb, the thought flashed across my mind that something had happened to him. No sooner did this idea occur to me than it became a settled fact, and in less time than it takes to tell I had thrown on my wrapper and kamiks, caught up a steamer-rug to throw about me, and was on my way down to the tide-gage. As I ran down the beaten path, I could see the light of the little bull’s-eye lantern flashing to and fro in the distance. It was as dark as any starlight night at home, although it was early in the evening, and not any darker now than it had been at noon. I could hear the low buzz of conversation without being able to distinguish any voices, and the figures seemed all huddled together. My whole attention was absorbed by this little group, and I did not properly watch my path; consequently I stumbled, then slipped and lost my footing, falling astride a sharp ridge of ice on the ice-foot. For an instant I could not tell where I was hurt the most, and then I discovered that I could move neither limb, the muscles refusing to do my bidding. I next tried to call Mr. Peary, whose voice I could now distinctly hear, but I could utter no sound. Then I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the same spot in the same position. The little group, not more than sixty yards away, were laughing and talking; but I was unable to raise my voice above a hoarse whisper, and could in no way attract their attention, so interested were they in their work of raising the tide-gage anchor. I was clothed in such a way that lying out on the ice with the temperature eighteen degrees below zero was anything but comfortable. I found that by great exertion I could move myself, and by doing this a little at a time, I gradually got on my hands and knees and crawled back to the house. As the whole distance was up-hill and every movement painful, I was obliged to make frequent stops to rest. At last I reached my room and had just strength enough left to drag myself upon the bed. I noticed by the clock that I had been absent thirty-five minutes. On examination it was found that I was cut and bruised all over, but the doctor declared that I was not seriously hurt; but even now I have not entirely recovered from the effects of the fall.
The day before yesterday was spent in decorating the interior of our Arctic home for the Christmas and New-Year festivities. In the large room the ceiling was draped with red mosquito-netting furnished by Mr. Gibson. Dr. Cook and Astrup devised wire candelabra and wire candle-holders, which were placed in all the corners and along the walls. Two large silk United States flags were crossed at one end of the room, and a silk sledge-flag given to Mr. Peary by a friend in Washington was put up on the opposite wall. I gave the boys new cretonne for curtains for their bunks. In my room I replaced the portières, made of silk flags, with which the boys had decorated their room, by portières made of canopy lace, and decorated the photographs of our dear ones at home, which were grouped on the wall beside the bed, with red, white, and blue ribbons. This occupied us all the greater part of the day. About nine o’clock in the evening Mr. Peary made a goodly supply of milk-punch, which was placed upon the table, together with cakes, cookies, candies, nuts, and raisins. He gave each of the boys a book as a Christmas gift. We spent the evening in playing games and chatting, and at midnight Mr. Peary and I retired to our room to open some letters, boxes, and parcels given to us by kind friends, and marked, “To be opened Christmas eve at midnight.” I think our feeling of pleasure at the many and thoughtful remembrances was clouded by the feeling of intense homesickness which involuntarily came with it. It was the first Christmas in my life spent away from home, and for the first time since the little “Kite” steamed out of Brooklyn I felt how very far away we are from those we love and who love us. I shall never forget the thoughtful kindness of Mrs. Beyer, wife of the governor of Upernavik, to a perfect stranger. Although she is obliged to get all her supplies from Denmark, and then order them a year in advance, out of her slender stock she had filled a large box with conserves, preserves, bonbons, spice-cakes, tissue-paper knickknacks for decorating the table, and very pretty cards wishing us a merry Christmas. Mr. Peary had carved for me two beautiful hairpins, and I made a guidon out of a silk handkerchief and a piece of one of my dresses, to be carried by him on his long journey over the ice-cap to the northern terminus of Greenland.
Yesterday—Christmas morning—we had a late breakfast, and it was very near noon before all the inmates of Redcliffe were astir. I had decided to have an early dinner, and then to invite all our faithful natives to a dinner cooked by us and served at our table with our dishes. I thought it would be as much fun for us to see them eat with knife, fork, and spoon as it would be for them to do it.
While I was preparing the dinner, most of the boys went out for a walk, “to get a good appetite,” they said. After the table was set, Astrup placed a very pretty and cleverly designed menu-card at each plate. Each card was especially appropriate to the one for whom it was intended.
At 4.30 P. M. we all sat down to our “Merry Christmas.” The dinner consisted of
Salmon à la can.
Rabbit-pie with green peas.
Venison with cranberry sauce.
Corn and tomatoes.