Anniversary Lodge, Bowdoin Bay, Greenland, August 20, 1893. The reader who has followed me through my Arctic experiences of 1891–92 may be interested to know how we found our Eskimo friends upon our return to them after an absence of nearly a year.
On July 8 the steamship “Falcon,” carrying north the members of Mr. Peary’s new Arctic expedition, left Portland, and headed for St. John’s, where we landed on the 13th. We had with us a conglomerate cargo, including, in addition to the ordinary paraphernalia of an Arctic expedition, eight little Mexican burros or donkeys, two St. Bernard dogs, the Eskimo dogs which Mr. Peary had brought down from Greenland, and numerous homing pigeons, kindly presented to us by friends interested in the expedition. At St. John’s we added a few Newfoundland dogs, and then proceeded north along the Labrador coast, touching at several of the missionary stations, where we obtained about thirty dogs from the Eskimos. It was a pitiable sight to see how famished these poor Moravian missionaries were for news from the old as well as the new country. They have direct mail communication with Europe only once a year.
I was told that although they have only three months in the year when frost is out of the ground, yet they all cultivate small gardens, and the most delicious dish of stewed rhubarb that I ever tasted was prepared from a bundle sent to me by one of the missionaries. It was interesting to note that while the appearance of the Labrador Eskimos is very similar to that of the natives of South Greenland, yet their mode of dress is different in both pattern and material. The undershirts, instead of being made of the skins of birds, are made of blanketing, and instead of being the same length back and front, are fashioned with a long tail; over this is worn a garment of the same pattern, made of drilling. The trousers are also of woven material. Of course this was their summer costume. The women all wore blanket skirts, and had woolen shawls about their shoulders.
After following the coast of Labrador for ten days, we headed across Davis Strait for Holsteinborg, on the Greenland shore. It took us about twelve hours to steam through the stream of ice which was flowing southward, but only once did the “Falcon” have to go astern in order to move a pan of ice and make a passageway for herself. Steadily she steamed on, butting against the cakes and floes until her timbers quivered and creaked. At last we were in clear water again, and then our vessel fairly bounded over the waves.
Arrived at Holsteinborg, we found a pretty, clean little village. There are more wooden houses here than at Godhavn, and altogether the place looks more thrifty. We found the governor absent, but the assistant governor, a young Danish officer who spoke a little English, did the honors, and he procured twenty-three dogs from the natives for us. Among other attentions, he sent to me a basket of radishes, fresh from his garden.
Business completed, the “Falcon” steamed north for Godhavn. On our arrival at this little hamlet we found everything apparently unchanged, but, to our great disappointment, our pilot informed us that Inspector Anderssen was absent on a tour of inspection, accompanied by his daughter, and that Governor Joergensen and family had gone to Denmark. We found Mrs. Anderssen as rosy-cheeked and as youthful as when we first saw her. She made our visit very pleasant, rounding it off with one of her delightful little dinners on the evening of our departure. We requited her hospitality by presenting her with various kinds of fruit—pineapples, lemons, oranges, and a watermelon. The natives expressed great pleasure on seeing us, and old Frederick, who had accompanied Mr. Peary on the ice in 1886, after shaking hands with me, said, “Very gude, you look all samee,” rubbing his hands over his face and then pointing to mine to show me that I had not changed in looks since last he saw me.
Our next stopping-place was Upernavik, where we remained just long enough to pick up a few dogs, after which we put in at Tassiusak, the most northerly inhabited spot in the world belonging to any government. This place boasts of but a single wooden house. We here still further increased our stock of dogs, and then left. The next day we revisited the Duck Islands, but this year the sport did not compare with that of two years ago, when the birds were so plentiful that one could hardly walk without fear of stepping on them. This year it was a month later in the season, and not only were the young ducks hatched, but the old mother ducks were out teaching the ducklings to swim, and the islands consequently were all but deserted. I devoted my time to the gathering of down for the bedding in our Arctic home, and secured about thirty pounds.
We now headed for the ever-dreaded Melville Bay, my first experience with which I shall never forget. We were then three weeks in crossing, and it was during that time that Mr. Peary had the misfortune to have his leg broken. This time everything looked favorable; we had no fog, and there was no ice in sight from the crow’s-nest. Captain Bartlett was determined to break the record in the crossing of this water—thirty-six hours—on this his first voyage to the Arctic regions. In twenty-four hours and fifty minutes we reached the Eskimo settlement at Cape York, Melville Bay behind us and still no ice to be seen.
At this settlement, where formerly so many natives lived, we found only three families, all of them strange to us; they could tell us nothing about our acquaintances in the tribe, not having seen any of the inhabitants to the north of them since the time we left McCormick Bay. We pushed on along the Greenland coast until we rounded Cape Parry, and then steamed into Barden Bay, stopping at the Eskimo village of Netchiolumy. Here, too, instead of finding about sixty natives, as was the case a year ago, we found only two families. Mr. Peary with two men went ashore at once, and before their boat reached the land I heard one of the natives shout “Chimo Peary,” and saw him dance up and down for joy. On his return Mr. Peary informed me that the natives were Keshu, alias the Smiler, and Myah, the White Man, with their families. They were wild with delight, and begged to be allowed to accompany us to the site of our new house and pitch their tents beside it. They were stowed with all their belongings into Mr. Peary’s boat, and in a short time both families with their houses and their chattels were on board the “Falcon.” They gave us all the news and gossip of the tribe. Naturally, we first questioned them about our lost companion, Mr. Verhoeff. There never was a doubt in our minds that Mr. Verhoeff lost his life in crossing the glacier at the head of Robertson Bay; but his friends at home took a different view of the matter, and were confident that we would find him alive and well. These natives say that nothing has been seen or heard of him, and they hesitate to speak of him, as they never speak of their dead. Mr. Peary thought perhaps some article of his clothing had been found by the Eskimos that might throw some light on the disappearance of our unfortunate associate; but nothing whatever has been found. We next inquired about our Eskimo friends, and were grieved to hear that the little five-year-old, bright-eyed, mischievous Anadore, daughter of our henchman Ikwa and his wife Mané, had died in the early spring. We learned that Redcliffe House had been destroyed by a few of the natives, led on by the famous angekok, Kyoahpadu, and that he had also destroyed the provisions which were cached at Cairn Point by Mr. Peary.
