[1]. The Eskimos frequently designate their children as piccaninnies, a word doubtless introduced by the whalers.
Mr. Peary, Professor Heilprin, myself, and two other members of our party dined with the inspector in the evening, joining some members of the Danish community, who had also been invited. The course consisted of fresh codfish with caper-sauce, roast ptarmigan, potatoes boiled and then browned; and for dessert, “Rudgrud,” a “dump,” almonds, and raisins. There was, following European custom, a varied accompaniment of wines.
After dinner the gentlemen went up-stairs to examine the geological and oölogical collections of the inspector, while the ladies preferred the parlor with their coffee. Were it not for the outer surroundings, it would have been difficult to realize that we were in the distant Arctic realm, so truly homelike were the scenes of the little household, and so cheerful the little that was necessary to make living here not only comfortable, but pleasant. The entire community numbers barely 120 souls, nine tenths of whom are Eskimos, mainly half-breeds; the remainder are the Danish officials and their families, whose recreation lies almost entirely within the little circle which they themselves constitute.
Toward nine o’clock we visited the storehouse, where a native ball was in progress. Several of our boys went the rounds with the Eskimo “belles,” but for me the odor of the interior was too strong to permit me to say that looking on was an “unalloyed pleasure.” The steps were made to the music of stringed instruments, over which the resident half-breeds have acquired a fair mastery. The participants and onlookers were all in a lively frame of mind, but not uproarious; and at the appointed time of closing—ten o’clock—all traces of hilarity had virtually been banished.
The Most Northern Outpost of Civilization on the Globe—Upernavik.
We had hoped to leave early on the following morning, but it was not until near two o’clock that the fog began to lift, and that a departure was made possible. Firing the official salute, and dipping our colors, we gave three hearty cheers in honor of our first Greenland hosts, and sailed out of the rock-bound harbor. It soon cleared up, and we were able to make our normal seven knots an hour. This morning it was foggy for a while, but it cleared up beautifully, and now we are just skimming along, and expect to reach Upernavik, the most northern of the Danish settlements in Greenland, about nine o’clock in the evening.
Thursday, July 2. We did not reach Upernavik until 2.30 yesterday morning, owing to a very strong current which was running against us all the way from Godhavn. We remained up all night, and at 1.30 A. M. were enjoying the dazzling brightness of the sunshine. Mr. Peary took a number of photographs between midnight and morning. Upernavik is a very different-looking place from Godhavn. There are four frame-houses and a little church. The natives live in turf huts, very miserable-looking habitations, built right down in the mud. As soon as our ship steamed into the harbor, in which two Danish vessels were at anchor, the governor, Herr Beyer, came on board with his lieutenant-governor, a young fellow who had arrived only three days before. We returned the visit at noon, and were pleasantly received by the governor and his wife, a charming woman of about thirty years, who had been married but a year, and whose fondness for home decoration had expressed itself in the pictures, bric-à-brac, fancy embroideries, and flowering plants which were everywhere scattered about, and helped to make up an extremely cozy home. As in all other houses in the country, the guests were treated to wine immediately on entering, and with a delicate politeness the governor presented me with a corsage bouquet of the flowers of Upernavik, neatly tied up with the colors of Denmark. Our visit was fruitful in the receipt of presents, among which were Eskimo carvings, a dozen bottles of native Greenland beer, and a box of “goodies,” addressed to “Miss Peary,” and to be opened, as a reminder, on Christmas eve. The hospitality shown to us could not have been more marked had our friendship extended over many years.
THE SUNSET GLOW—BERG OFF SVARTENHOEK.