My Arctic journal: a year among ice-fields and Eskimos

by Josephine Diebitsch Peary

It was with a feeling akin to homesickness that I took the pictures and ornaments from the walls of our little room, pulled down the curtains from the windows and bed, had Matt pack the books and nail them up, sorted the things on the bed, and packed those I wanted to keep. The tins and cooking utensils I put on the stone and turf wall just outside of my room previous to distributing them among the natives.

My trunk packed and removed, the carpet up and the curtains down, the improvised bookcase taken to pieces, and it was hard to imagine that this dismantled room had once been as snug and comfortable as any boudoir in the world. Could the walls talk they would tell of some very pleasant hours spent there by the members of the North Greenland Expedition of 1891–92, and of many months of real solid comfort and happiness enjoyed by the woman who, when she left home and friends, was told over and over again that she must expect to endure all kinds of hardships, to suffer agony from that dreaded Arctic enemy, scurvy, etc.

Receiving Gifts of Charity.

I next turned my attention to the various articles put aside for the Eskimos, and after sorting them over I called all the women in the settlement to me, and stood them in a row. There were nine among them, including the two brides (mere children), Tookymingwah, wife of Kookoo, and Tungwingwah, wife of Kulutingwah. When they had grasped the idea that I was about to present them with these things they fairly danced with joy, shouting to their husbands, and laughing and talking with each other. I took care that Mané and M’gipsu, who had been with us constantly sewing and curing skins, should have the more desirable articles, while the others shared equally. After the distribution the professor, with a few members of his party, rowed off to the “Kite,” and in a short time returned with their boat laden with pots, kettles, knives, scissors, thimbles, and needles for the women, and long ash-poles, timber cut suitable for kayaks, lances, saws, gimlets, knives, etc.—in fact, everything in the hardware and lumber line that could be of any possible use to the men. Then all the natives were collected on the beach and the different articles distributed among them. I know if the good Pennsylvanians who sent these gifts could have seen the pleasure these poor natives derived from them they would have felt amply repaid.

We spent a couple of hours in taking photographs of the natives, their tupics, our poor little abandoned house and its surroundings, and then bade farewell to Redcliffe. It had been my home for thirteen months—some of them had seemed more than twice as long as any ordinary month—and I felt sorry to leave it to the mercy of wind and weather and Eskimo. Mané asked me if she might pitch her tupic in my room, saying it would be so nice and dry, and the wind could not strike it and blow it over; then, too, no matter how cold it might be, her ikkimer would be sufficient to heat it comfortably. I told her she might do so, but she must take good care of the house and not allow others to destroy anything about it, until the return of the next sun, when, if we did not come back, it should belong to Ikwa and herself to do with as they wished.

It was about noon when I left the settlement with the last boat-load, and as soon as we were safely on board the “Kite” the work of raising the anchor was begun. In the meantime Ikwa and Kyo in their kayaks were paddling round and round the “Kite,” calling to us their last good-byes. Ikwa asked if he might come aboard just once more, and on permission being granted, he immediately climbed over the side and jumped on deck. Some one took a fancy to his kayak paddle, which had been broken and mended, as only an Eskimo can mend, in at least a dozen different places, and gave him an old sledge-runner for it. When the time came for the Old Pirate to leave us all of us felt badly, and when he said “Gooby,” with his peculiar accent, his eyes filled and he choked. After this he would not turn his head in our direction, and only waved his hand in answer to our good-byes. His picture, as he paddled himself with the sledge-runner, curved at both ends, to the shore, will never fade from my memory.

As the “Kite” steamed slowly down the bay the natives ran along the beach, shouting to us and waving their hands, Kulutingwah bringing up the rear with a torn American flag attached to a pole, which he waved frantically to the imminent danger of those near him. I could not help thinking, Have these poor ignorant people, who are absolutely isolated from the rest of humanity, really benefited by their intercourse with us, or have we only opened their eyes to their destitute condition? I hope the latter is not the case, for a happier, merrier set of people I have never seen; no thought beyond the present, and no care beyond that of getting enough to eat and to wear. As we steamed down the bay we turned our eyes on the red cliffs, and when they faded from view Cape Cleveland and Herbert and Northumberland Islands were the only familiar landmarks left in sight. On these we gazed with the feeling that we were looking our last upon the scene. The old Cape, especially, seemed very near and dear to me; twice it had sheltered and protected me from the fury of an Arctic gale—once in the winter when Mr. Peary and the doctor had gone to rescue “Jack,” my pet Newfoundland, from its precipitous cliffs, and the second time only a few days ago, when we returned from our venturesome boat journey up Inglefield Gulf.

Our home journey was almost wholly devoid of incident. Melville Bay, smooth as glass, had lost its terrors, and we steamed through it almost without hindrance. We reached Atanekerdluk, in the Waigatt, on August 29th, and there spent a delightful and profitable day in collecting fossils among the “leaf beds” which have been made famous to geologists. The following morning we arrived at Godhavn, where once more we enjoyed the kind hospitality of Inspector and Mrs. Anderssen, and the pleasing attentions of a daughter who had only recently returned from Denmark. The same friendly reception awaited us at Godthaab, the capital of the Southern Inspectorate of Greenland, where the honors of hospitality were divided between Inspector and Mrs. Fencker and Governor and Mrs. Baumann. It was here that Nansen descended from the ice-cap after his memorable journey across the Land of Desolation and passed a long, weary winter of waiting.