Our sad and desolate Feelings after the Departure of the Ship.—What we should soon witness of Arctic Winter.—The Wreck visited from Time to Time.—Provisions transported to the Settlement.—The Weather.—Whales near Shore.—Severe Gale of Wind.—Fall of Snow.—Ocean frozen over.—Sudden Introduction of Winter, and its Dreariness.—Not to be described.—The Sun falling, Nights lengthening.—Disappearance of the Sun.—Long Night.—How we passed our Time.—Confined to the Huts.—Singing.—Neither Book nor Chart, nor Writing Materials, except Pieces of Copper.—Hope of Liberation another Year.—Captain Norton's Method of keeping Time.—The Razor.—Our Clothing.—Provisions getting low.—Natives both eating and stealing ours.—A new Chapter.—Commenced living on Blubber with the Natives.—Native Stock diminishing.—Winters in the Arctic vary.—The native Manner of capturing the Whale.—Preparing their Food.—Native Bread.—Description of their Huts.—Their peculiar Locality.—Their Method of lighting and warming them.—The Filthiness of the Natives.

The next day after the departure of the ship, as well as the departure of our highest earthly hopes,—hopes which had been excited in us immeasurably beyond any former experience,—we remained principally in our huts, having neither desire nor energy, heart nor hope, to go abroad, but what was most fitting in our present condition, and future prospects, to indulge in sad and melancholy reflections upon the few past hours. There was a singular solitariness pervading all our minds, such as we never felt before. We were now painfully sensible that the ice, snow, and cold, peculiar to this region of the north, such as we never witnessed before, would ere long form around us an impassable barrier, frightful even to contemplate, and through which there would be to us no present egress.

What remained of provisions still at the wreck, and other articles which may have washed ashore, reason and the instinct of self-preservation taught us, it was our duty at once to secure. Accordingly, the day following, the whole company were again assembled, and went to the wreck. We made a division of the provisions, especially of bread, between the different parties occupying different huts, and each party transported its respective share to the settlement. The natives were present with the crew during the day, and ever ready to appropriate to their own benefit whatever they saw fit to take, or were disposed to lay hold of.

There were several casks of molasses which came ashore; and since these could not be very well divided at the wreck, it was resolved to construct a species of sled, upon which a whole cask could be drawn to the settlement at one time. This we did, though it required many tedious hours and severe labor. By the aid of ropes, and a combination of all our efforts, we succeeded in getting all the molasses to the huts. We managed in the same way with a number of barrels of flour which came ashore about this time. Several tin plates and basins were also found on the beach, and these answered an excellent purpose, as they afterwards proved; because in them we mixed our flour and molasses together, and thus made very luscious pancakes. We usually baked them outside of the huts, as no fire was allowed within, except very rarely; nor were we permitted to make any outside when the wind was in a northerly direction, lest the smoke should frighten away the seals from the shore and region. So reasoned the natives.

We continued to visit the wreck and obtain whatever we could, until the weather became so severe, and the traveling so bad, that it was no longer safe to expose ourselves.

After having gathered all the provisions we could find at the wreck, such as bread, flour, and molasses, we judged that with economy, and with ordinary allowance, it would last the ship's company three or four months. But the great drawback which we apprehended, and which we found to be true, was, the natives acted as if they had as good a right to our provisions as we had ourselves. They not only joined us in eating what belonged to us, but they took what they wanted, both openly and secretly.

The weather continued quite moderate, we should judge, for this region of the north, not intensely cold, still gradually increasing, until the 17th of November. While the sea was open, whales were very plenty. They came near the shore where our settlement was located, and sported among the breakers, and in some instances, would rest their huge heads upon the rocks, just on the surface of the water.

About this time, a very severe gale of wind blew from the north, more furious and winterish than had occurred since our abode in this region, accompanied with a heavy fall of snow. The wind was so violent that it prostrated several native huts. This storm was doubtless a forerunner of winter indeed, and which brought from the remote wastes of the Northern Sea vast quantities of ice, which, in connection with that which had been forming along the coast, closed up the whole ocean as far as the eye could reach. Indeed, all water entirely disappeared.

This was an uncommon and singular feature in our experience of an arctic winter. It thus began in earnest to put on the sterner and more terrible attributes of dreariness and desolation. There was something profoundly dreadful and awe-inspiring in the giant march of a polar winter, prodigious in its increase of snow and the vast accumulation of ice. It was upon a scale of operation so sublime and awful as to baffle all human description, and throw wholly into the shade, as absolutely insignificant, the intensest winter ever experienced in our native country. It is utterly impossible to give to any one who has not shared somewhat in the tremendous reality of the scene a just conception of it.

The sun was now falling rapidly, and showing its bright disk only a few hours above the horizon. The nights were very long, and the days were becoming shorter and shorter. It seemed as if the luminary of day was indisposed to throw abroad his own rays upon a region of the earth's surface where either human or animal life could with so much difficulty exist. In a few weeks, the sun had wholly disappeared, though his track of light could be distinctly traced in his course below a section of the horizon; but still it was becoming fainter and fainter, until total darkness and a long night of nearly a month enveloped the outward world, as well as enshrouded our own minds in indescribable gloom and sadness.

Our readers may inquire how we passed our time during our detention among the natives, and especially during the coldest of the weather, or during the long night of polar darkness. When the thermometer, during the depth of winter, would doubtless have indicated scores of degrees less than zero, we rarely ventured forth out of the huts. But far otherwise with the natives. They would go out and travel from settlement to settlement, even in the coldest weather. At times, however, they would return from their winter excursions somewhat frost-bitten. We also became, in a measure, accustomed to the intense cold, and being clothed in the garments of the natives, consisting wholly of skins and furs, we could endure a great degree of cold.

If there was any outward relief to be found to our minds during the long nights of the arctic, and the entire absence of the sun for several weeks, it consisted in the peculiar and uncommon brilliancy which marked the course of the moon in those clear skies.

Nor was this all. The aurora borealis there is seen in all its native beauty and grandeur. It illumined the sky with a light but little inferior to that of moonlight. It would from time to time shoot up and spread itself over the whole northern horizon, and with its sparkling scintillations and brightly-colored coruscations, it would form a splendid arch over our heads. And then, again, as the advancing column of warriors rushes into battle, so the bright line above us, with its moving front and wheeling battalions, would seem to change its hue and position, and thus prepare for a fresh onset.

The aurora borealis of the arctic and polar region is one of nature's grandest and most sublime scenes ever beheld by mortals.

As we were confined within the huts of the natives during a greater part of our abode with them, and as nothing particular occurred demanding our exposure out of doors, we had sufficient time to sleep, if sleep we could. To pass away time was extremely hard and irksome. Its wheels rolled slowly and heavily along. Some of us would sing to the natives, which tended not only to divert and encourage our own minds, but to please them. We found, however, they were wonderfully pleased with our singing, and so much interested were they in it, that nothing would satisfy them unless some one of us was singing to them. Thus they laid an oppressive task upon us, which we were not able to perform. What we commenced, therefore, as a sort of pastime, in order to while away tedious hours, days, and months, finally became, through the constant importunity of the natives, a grievous burden to us. We had neither book nor chart of any description in our possession, with which to divert or instruct our minds. We had nothing upon which to write any event or fact, except small pieces of copper, and a few stray leaves which we happened to find in the huts of the natives. Our time, as all must see, was spent comparatively in a most listless and unprofitable manner; it was simply the endurance of life, and the prolonged hope that another year, if we should live to see it, would bring to us the day of deliverance.

Captain Norton kept, by the aid of a piece of twine, in which he tied knots, an account of every day, from the time of the wreck until our rescue at East Cape, with the single exception of only one knot too many, which he supposed he must have added during the long night.

The only razor, which was a great favorite with the company, and which we frequently used to the best of our ability, without either soap or brush, was an ordinary jackknife. It was necessary to keep our beards trimmed within proper limits; otherwise our breath, even in the huts, and especially when exposed to the air outside, would reduce them to a mass of solid ice.

These two articles, viz., the twine and the knife, were about all the significant and expressive mementoes which we brought with us from our arctic quarters. These, however, were sufficient to bring most distinctly and vividly to our minds a painful episode in our ocean life.

The clothing with which we were furnished by the natives, and without which we must have perished, was composed of skins and furs. We dressed as the natives did. An observer could have seen no difference in this respect between us and them. Our shoes, pants, and a kind of jacket, and caps, were wholly of skins, with the hair inside, and then over these another dress, with the hair outside. Thus clothed, we were protected from the keen, piercing air—a protection secured to us which no other substitute could provide.

About the 1st of January, in the depth of winter, we began to perceive that nearly all the provisions we obtained from the wreck were about gone. The natives had shared with us in the several huts to a considerable extent in consuming what belonged to us. They were very fond of our flour, molasses, and bread. They wanted to eat what we ate, and when they could not get it by fair play, they would indulge in their natural propensity, and steal it.

What we greatly feared was now coming upon us. A new chapter in our history began to open. The food of the natives must henceforth be for our support. To their credit, however, be it said, there appeared no disposition on their part to confine us down to a mere pittance, while they themselves had their usual allowance. What they had was freely offered to us, and both parties fared about the same while food lasted. Their supply of provisions for the winter, so far as we could judge, was not large; but now the addition of thirty-three persons to their number soon diminished their usual stock.

Winters even in the arctic are variable, as we learned from the natives; some were very severe, and other less so. We ascertained that an entire settlement to the north of the one in which we lived, and north of the wreck, perished a few years before in consequence of the intense cold, and the want of provisions.

Some idea perhaps may be entertained by the reader of the principal kind of food the natives eat, and what we lived upon for months while with them.

THEIR MANNER OF CAPTURING THE WHALE.

As the whale approaches quite near the shore, the natives are not greatly exposed by following him to a great distance in their canoes. They take their own time and opportunity for killing the whale. Both men and women are in the canoes on such occasions. It is regarded by them as a family affair. They go sufficiently near the whale to throw a harpoon into his body. Their harpoons are somewhat different from ours, yet in principle they are precisely the same. When they have thrown one or two irons into the whale, they cast overboard two air-tight and inflated seal skins attached to the lines. Every canoe in pursuit of whales has two skins of this sort. If the whale is disposed to turn flukes and go down, he must of course carry with him these full blown skins. The lines are very strong, being made of walrus skin. When the whale makes his appearance again, he is struck by another canoe, and two more seal skins are attached to his body. Thus they go on fastening irons into his body, and impeding his course by any number of seal skins, until he is wearied out, and then they go up to him and lance him. Whales have been picked up, by ships and boats, having several seal skins attached to them. One whale was found, several years since, which had twenty-eight full-blown seal skins trailing after him.

PREPARING THEIR FOOD.

Having captured the whale and drawn him ashore, they then proceed to the work of cutting him up, and stowing him away for future use. Both the blubber and entrails are deposited in a place together, especially prepared for the purpose. The place is a circular cavity, in the form of a cellar under ground, from five to eight feet deep, and with varied diameter, from three to five feet. These depositories are placed along shore, some distance apart, most convenient for receiving the whale when taken. In this cellar they deposit not only the whale blubber and its intestines, but also the blubber of the walrus and seal, and occasionally a deer is thrown in, with all that appertains to it, except its skin and perhaps its feet. The whole is thus mingled together in due proportions, and eaten by the natives with no further change in the promiscuous and offensive elements than what time itself would produce.

It was from such storehouses as these that the natives drew out their chief support for the winter, and nearly for the whole year. It is quite impossible to define this compound, and even if we could it would answer no good purpose; for with us it is profoundly obnoxious even to think of it. Absolute necessity—the simple fact of an existence, compelled us to live upon such qualities of food, compared with which our hogs have dainties, and luxuriate upon the fat of the land.

There were, however, some exceptions. Now and then a fresh seal was caught, a bear, a walrus, or a deer brought in. But whatever other good qualities the food might have had, it was all eaten raw; at least this was the case with the more northern settlements, and particularly the one in which we spent most of the winter. The natives farther south exhibited some slight improvement in the manner of preparing their food; yet on the whole, the difference was very small, and not worth mentioning.

At the time of our meals, if they can be called such, all the members of the hut would gather around a large dish, or tray, or trough, as much like the ordinary hog's trough as it could well be, and then each one would either help himself to what there was in it, with his hands and fingers, or receive his piece of blubber from the head man of the hut. In this manner the natives took their meals. From the necessity of our condition we had to conform in a measure to this foul and disgusting custom, to say nothing of the filthy nature of the food; we were compelled to eat or starve.

The bread used among the natives was made by boiling a vine, which they find on the ground in those places where the snow melts off during summer. This vine is somewhat bitter. They make a practice of collecting it during the summer months. After it is thoroughly boiled, they pack it away in seal skins for future use. This is all the bread they have.

HUTS.

A brief description of the huts of the natives may not be out of place in this connection.

The huts are generally round, differing in size in proportion to the family, and averaging, perhaps, from twelve to thirty feet in diameter. The lower part of the hut, and to the height of four or five feet, is well secured with upright stakes, situated a few feet apart, and fastened to each other by cords of walrus skin. The huts, and especially those where we were located during the winter, were not made partly underground, as was the case with some we saw in the direction of East Cape, but so constructed on the surface of the ground as to be easily taken down and removed.

From the lower, or upright part, the roof extended in an oval form to the height of ten or twelve feet. At the termination of the top, or apex, there is an opening, which is closed or otherwise, according to the state of the weather. This opening affords about all the egress to the smoke of the lamps and fire, when made in the huts. It is very rarely, however, that fire is made in the huts. The covering of the huts is usually of walrus skins, and impermeable to water. There is generally but one door to the hut, which is somewhat smaller than ordinary doorways.

The interior of the hut is divided into two principal rooms, or apartments, one of which may be called the eating room, and the other the sleeping room. The sleeping apartment is separated from the other by a temporary screen, which can be easily drawn aside or gathered up. The sleeping apartment is again subdivided into smaller sections, to suit the convenience of the family. The partitions are of walrus or deer skins, as a matter of course. These rooms are much warmer than one would naturally expect to find in this cold region of country.

The bedsteads (so to speak) are the skins of walruses, stretched upon and fastened to the tops of stakes about one foot from the ground, under which a bedding of coarse rushes is placed.

The pillow, or that upon which the head may rest, is made by drawing the walrus skin over one end of a stick, or log.

The peculiar locality of the huts or settlements is another consideration deserving a passing notice. The natives select the bleakest spot in the region for their settlements, where the wind blows without any obstruction. They, therefore, avoid all shelter behind hills, or cliffs, or in valleys. In placing their huts in such exposed localities, as for example, upon a plain, or level, near the sea shore, their purpose is to secure protection from the drifting snow, which otherwise, were they in the lee of some hill, or rising ground, or in a valley, would cover them up, and overwhelm them. Besides, the huts being circular, the wind and snow have opportunity of circulating in such a manner as generally to leave a clear space of several feet or more around the hut.

Notwithstanding all the precautions of the natives to avoid the drifting snow, still it was so deep at times upon a level, that when passing along, and even quite near the huts, we could not discern the tops of them, and should not have known that we were in their immediate vicinity, had it not been for tracks we discovered in the snow, or from the barking of the dogs.

THE METHOD OF LIGHTING THEIR HUTS.

The lamps are in the form of a hollow, circular dish, somewhat in the shape of a bowl, made of clay. This vessel is filled with seal's blubber, and around the edge of the lamps inside, is placed a row of moss of fine quality, obtained from the mountains. This moss is set on fire, and by its heat the blubber in the vessel is converted into oil, which in turn feeds the moss, and thus good light is obtained. Two or three such lamps in a hut would afford considerable heat.

The smoke, however, which proceeds from them is immense, and exceedingly offensive. It is so thick, that every article in the hut is covered and blackened with it. When one comes to clear air and breathes, there will be seen a volume of darkened vapor going forth from his nostrils and mouth.

These lamps are burning nearly all the time, and especially when the days are short, and during the long night of darkness in midwinter.

Neither the smoke from the lamps, nor the quality of food we had to eat, nor the manner of eating it, nor constantly observing the filthy habits of the natives, was all the degradation we felt and experienced.

With the strictest propriety it can be said the natives were loaded with vermin; and yet as indifferent, apparently, to such a condition, as if it were the most trivial circumstance in the world. Indeed, they appeared to enjoy the presence of the innumerable hosts that swarmed in all parts of their huts. Their persons, garments, skins in the huts, sleeping apartments, &c., were literally alive with them. The misery of such a state we have neither words nor heart to attempt to describe.