An hour later the captain called down to me to come up at once, as a bear was advancing toward the ship. The boys had been watching and longing for a bear ever since we left New-York, and many false alarms had been given; but here was a real live polar coming straight for the “Kite.” A very, very pretty sight he was, with black snout, black eyes, and black toes. Against the white snow and ice, he seemed to be of a cream color. His head was thrown up as he loped along toward us, and when, within a short distance of the “Kite,” a gull flew over his head, he made a playful jump at it, all unconscious of the doom which awaited him. Eleven men with guns were stooping down on the quarter-deck waiting for the captain to give the word to fire. A bullet disabled one of the fore legs, while another struck the animal in the head, instantly dyeing it crimson; the bear stopped short, wheeled round, fell over on his head, and then got up. By this time it was simply raining bullets about the poor beast; still he staggered on toward the water. Gibson, who had jumped on the ice as soon as he fired, was now close to him, and, just as he started to swim away, put a ball in his neck, which stopped him short. A boat was lowered, and he was brought alongside the “Kite.” He measured seven feet one inch in length, and we estimated his weight at from eight to ten hundred pounds.
Friday, July 17. Last night was the worst night my poor husband has had. His leg pained him more than it had done so far, and he begged me to give him a sedative, which, with the doctor’s consent, I did; but even then his sleep was disturbed to such an extent that it amounted to delirium. He would plead with me to do something for his leg. After doing everything I could think of, I said, “Can’t you tell me where it hurts you most, and what you think might help you?” His answer was, “Oh, my dear, pack it in ice until some one can shoot it!” In this way he spent the night, and this morning he was thoroughly exhausted. Dr. Cook has succeeded in making his leg more comfortable, and now he sleeps. It seems very hard that I cannot take him away to some place where he can rest in peace.
Tuesday, July 21. Since last writing in my journal, four days ago, we have been steadily nearing Cape York, and we hope soon to clear the ice of Melville Bay, and pass into the open North Water beyond. Our hopes have, however, so often been disappointed that day by day, even when in full view of the land, we become less and less confident of ever being able to disengage ourselves from our confinement. Huge grounded bergs still hold the ice together, and until they show signs of moving there is little prospect of a general break-up.
On Saturday a bear with two cubs was seen on the ice ahead of us, and immediately every man was over the side of the vessel making for the animals. The mother, with a tender affection for her young, guided an immediate retreat, herself taking the rear, and alternately inciting the one cub and then the other to more rapid movement. Our boys were wholly unacquainted with the art of rapid traveling on the rough and hummocky ice, and before long the race was admitted to be a very unequal one; they were all quickly distanced. One of the men, in the excitement of the moment, joined in the chase without his gun, and, even without this implement, when he returned to the “Kite” he was so out of breath that he had to be hauled up the sides of the vessel like a dead seal. He lay sprawling and breathless on the deck for at least five minutes, much to the merriment of the crew and the more fortunate members of the party. A round weight of over two hundred pounds was responsible for his discomfiture. Monday morning about two o’clock the fog suddenly lifted, and we found ourselves almost upon the land. The visible shore extended from Cape York to Wolstenholme Island, and we could clearly distinguish Capes Dudley Diggs and Atholl. I held a looking-glass over the open skylight in such a way that Mr. Peary could see something of the outline of the coast. Poor fellow! he wanted to go on deck so badly, thinking that if he were strapped to a board he could be moved in safety, but the doctor persuaded him to give up the thought. As the doctors have all agreed that in six months his leg will be as good as it ever was, he refuses to consider the idea of returning on the “Kite”; as for myself, now that we have started, I want to keep on too. The air is almost black with flocks of the little auk, and a party on the ice to-day brought in sixteen birds in a very short time.
Wednesday, July 22. Drs. Hughes and Sharp brought in sixty-four birds as the result of an all-night catch. We are still in the ice, with no signs of our getting out, although the captain says we have drifted twenty miles to the northward since Monday morning. We are now abreast of Conical Rock. Second Mate Dunphy has just reported seeing from the crow’s-nest a steamer off Cape York, but it is not visible to the naked eye, and we are in doubt as to what it is.
Friday, July 24. The steamer did not materialize; either the mate was mistaken or the vessel drifted away from us. The ice parted early yesterday morning, much to everybody’s relief, and we have since been pushing steadily on our course. The long line of table-topped bergs off Cape York, some of which measured not less than two hundred to three hundred feet in height, and perhaps considerably over a mile in length, is visibly moving over to the American waters, and to this disrupting force we are doubtless largely indebted for our liberation. The scenery of this portion of the Greenland coast is surpassingly fine. The steep red-brown cliffs are frequently interrupted by small glaciers reaching down to the water’s edge. The entrance to Wolstenholme Sound, guarded as it was by huge bergs, was particularly beautiful. Saunders Island in the distance, and Dalrymple Rock immediately in the foreground, stood up like great black giants, contrasting with the snow-white bergs surrounding them and the red cliffs of the mainland on either side. Whenever anything particularly striking or beautiful appears, I am called on deck, and with my hand-glass placed at the open transom over Mr. Peary’s head, manage to give him a faint glimpse of our surroundings. At nine o’clock this evening we rounded Cape Parry, and about ten o’clock stopped at the little Eskimo village of Netchiolumy in Barden Bay, where we hoped to obtain a native house, sledge, kayak, and various native utensils and implements for the World’s Columbian Exposition. Our search-party found only three houses in the settlement, and the lonely inhabitants numbered six adults and five children; five dogs added life to the solitude. These people had quantities of sealskins and narwhal tusks, many of which were obtained in exchange for knives, saws, files, and tools in general. Wood of any kind, to be used in the construction of sledges, kayak frames, and spear- and harpoon-shafts, was especially in demand; they cared nothing for our woven clothing, nor for articles of simple show and finery. We stopped this morning at Herbert Island, where we had hoped to visit a native graveyard, but no graves were found.
CHAPTER III
ESTABLISHING OURSELVES
Arrival at McCormick Bay—Selecting the Site for the House—Temporary Quarters—Hurrying the Erection of the House—White Whales—Departure of the “Kite”—Alone on the Arctic Shore—A Summer Storm—Arctic Picnicking—The First Birthday and the First Deer—Birthday-dinner Menu—Departure of the Boat Party for Hakluyt and Northumberland Islands after Birds and Eskimos—Occupations during their Absence—Return of the Party with an Eskimo Family.
Sunday, July 26. Mr. Peary is getting along nicely. His nights are fairly comfortable, and consequently he feels much better by day; his back now troubles him more than his leg. Yesterday morning at three o’clock he was awakened and told that the ice prevented our getting to Cape Acland, and that we were just abreast of McCormick Bay, and could not proceed further into the sound. He accordingly decided to put up our quarters on the shores of this bay. It was now a question as to which side of the bay would be most favorable for a home. At 9 A. M., together with several members of our party, I rowed over to the southeast shore, and walked along the coast for about three miles, prospecting for a site, and made a provisional choice of what seemed a desirable knoll. We returned to the “Kite” about noon. After dinner Professor Heilprin, Dr. Cook, Astrup, and three others went over to the other shore, and toward evening they returned with the report that the place was perfectly desolate and not at all suitable for a camp. After supper we returned to the southeast shore to see if we could improve on the location selected in the morning, but after tramping for miles came back to the old site. While it cannot in truth be said that the spot is a specially attractive one, it would be equally untrue to describe it as being entirely devoid of charm or attraction. Flowers bloom in abundance on all sides, and their varied colors,—white, pink, and yellow,—scattered through a somewhat somber base of green, picture a carpet of almost surpassing beauty. Rugged cliffs of sandstone, some sixteen hundred to eighteen hundred feet high, in which the volcanic forces have built up long black walls of basalt, rise steeply behind us, and over their tops the eternal ice-cap is plainly visible. Only a few paces from the base of the knoll are the silent and still partially ice-covered waters of the bay, which extends five miles or more over to the opposite shore, and perhaps three times that distance eastward to its termination. A number of lazy icebergs still stand guard between us and the open waters of the western horizon, where the gray and ice-flecked bluffs of Northumberland and Hakluyt Islands disappear from sight.
