Читать книгу My Arctic journal: a year among ice-fields and Eskimos - Josephine Diebitsch Peary - Страница 4

Table of Contents

First Sight of Greenland—Frederikshaab Glacier—Across the Arctic Circle—Perpetual Daylight—Sunlit Disko—The Climb to the Ice-cap—Dinner at Inspector Anderssen’s—A Native Dance—From Disko to Upernavik—Upernavik—The Governor and his Wife—The Duck Islands—Gathering Eggs and Eider-down and Shooting Ducks.

Wednesday, June 24. We have sailed and tossed, have broken through the ice-barriers of Belle Isle Straits, and once more ride the rolling swells of the broad Atlantic. Our three days’ jam in the ice has given us a foretaste of Arctic navigation, but the good little “Kite” speeds northward with a confidence which inspires a feeling of security that not even the famed “greyhounds of the ocean” afford. Genial Captain Pike is on the bridge and off the bridge, and his keen eye is casting for the land. When I came on deck to-day I found the bold, wild coast of Greenland on the right. It was a grand sight—the steep, black cliffs, some of them descending almost vertically to the sea, their tops covered with dazzling snow, and the inland ice flowing through the depressions between their summits; at the foot of the cliffs gleamed bergs of various sizes and shapes, some of them a beautiful blue, others white as snow. The feature of the day was the Frederikshaab glacier, which comes down to the sea in latitude 62° 30′. It did not, however, impress me as being very grand, owing perhaps to our being so far from it. Its face is seventeen miles long, and we could see it like a wall of white marble before us. Long after we had passed it, it still appeared to be with us, and it kept us company nearly all day. Just beyond the glacier was disclosed the most beautiful mountain scenery imaginable. The weather was deliciously warm, and revealed to us a new aspect of Arctic climate. It seems strange to be sitting on deck in a light coat, not even buttoned, and only a cap on my head, in the most brilliant sunshine, and gazing on snow-covered mountains.

Out on the Billowy Sea.

The First Fragment of Greenland Ice.

Capt. Richard Pike—“On Duty.”

Thursday, June 25. We were promised another lovely day, but after noon the weather changed and a cool wind sprang up, which helped to push our little craft along at a good rate. To-night we shall have the midnight sun for the first time, and it will be weeks, even months, before he sets for us again. Everything on deck is dripping from the fog which has gathered about us.

Friday, June 26. In spite of the thick fog we have been making good time, and expect to be in Disko, or more properly Godhavn, about noon to-morrow. We saw our first eider-ducks to-day. Numerous bergs again gleam up in the distance, probably the output of the Jakobshavn glacier.

Tuesday, June 30. We have been in a constant state of excitement since Saturday morning, when we first set foot on Greenland’s ice-bound shores. The pilot, a half-breed Eskimo, came on board and took us into the harbor of Godhavn shortly after nine o’clock. Mr. Peary, Captain Pike, Professor Heilprin, and myself went ashore and paid our respects to Inspector Anderssen and his family. They were very attentive to us, and invited “Mr. and Mistress Peary” to stay with them during their stop in Godhavn—a pleasure they were, however, compelled to forego. In the afternoon a party of us from the “Kite” set out on our first Arctic tramp, our objective point being the summit of the lofty basalt cliffs that tower above the harbor. My outfit consisted of a red blanket combination suit reaching to the knee, long knit stockings, a short eider-down flannel skirt reaching to the ankles, and the “kamiks,” or long-legged moccasins, which I had purchased in Sidney. The day was exceptionally fine and sunny, and we started off in the best of spirits. Never had I seen so many different wild flowers in bloom at once. I could not put my foot down without crushing two or three different varieties. Mr. Gibson, while chasing a butterfly, slipped and strained the cords of his left foot so that he was obliged to return to the ship. Never had I stepped on moss so soft and beautiful, all shades of green and red, some beds of it covered so thickly with tiny pink flowers that you could not put the head of a pin down between them. We gathered and pressed as many flowers as we could conveniently carry—anemones, yellow poppies, mountain pinks, various Ericaceæ, etc. Sometimes our path was across snow-drifts, and sometimes we were ankle-deep in flowers and moss. Mountain streams came tumbling down in every little gully, and their water was so delicious that it seemed impossible to cross one of these streams without stooping to drink. Our advance was very slow, as we could not resist the temptation of constantly stopping to look back and feast upon the beauties of the view. Disko Bay, blue as sapphire, thickly studded with icebergs of all sizes and beautifully colored by the sun’s rays, lay at our feet, with the little settlement of Godhavn on one side and the brown cliffs towering over it. As far as the eye could reach, the sea was dotted with icebergs, which looked like a fleet of sail-boats. The scene was simply indescribable. We reached the summit, at an elevation of 2400 feet, and built a cairn, in which we placed a tin box containing a piece of paper with our names written upon it, and some American coins. From the summit of these cliffs we stepped upon the ice-cap, which seemed to roll right down to their tops. The temperature was 91° F. in the sun, and 56° in the shade. As we descended a blue mist seemed to hang over that part of the cliffs that lay in shadow, and the contrast with the white bergs gleaming in the sapphire waters below was very striking. We returned to the foot of the cliff after eight o’clock. On Sunday we made another expedition, to the Blaese Dael, or “windy valley,” where a beautiful double waterfall comes tumbling through the hard rock, into which it has graven a deep channel. We gathered more flowers, and collected some seaweed; the mosquitos, of which we had had a foretaste the day before, were extremely troublesome, and recalled to memory the shores of New Jersey. When we reached the first Eskimo hut, a number of the piccaninnies^[1] came to me and presented me with bunches of wild flowers. We gave them some hardtack in return, and they were happy.

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.

Our visit was a brief one, as we were to weigh anchor early in the afternoon. We steamed away from Upernavik and headed north. The fog had cleared away and disclosed a giant mountain towering above us in the harbor. The sun shone brightly, and the sea was smooth as glass and blue as turquoise. The night promised to be a beautiful one, but I resisted the temptation to stay up, having been up the entire night before, and the greater part of the one before that. At 4 A. M. Captain Pike knocked at our door and informed us that in half an hour we would be at the Duck Islands. Here we were to land and all hands shoot eider-ducks and gather their eggs for our winter supply. We were soon on shore, and then began a day’s sport such as I had often read about, but never expected to see. The ducks flew in thick flocks all about us, and on every side were nests as large as a large hen-nest, made of eider-down and containing from three to six eggs. The nests were not hidden, but right out on the rocks in full sight. Alas! we were too late; the ducks were breeding, and out of 960 eggs we did not get over 150 good ones. As I had not taken my gun, I spent the time in gathering down, and collected forty-three pounds in five hours. After returning to the “Kite” for breakfast, we visited a second island, and there I bagged a bird, much to my satisfaction. Altogether ninety-six ducks were shot.