370 CONQUERING THE ARCTIC ICE 



the ice, but we had nowhere to stow it, so we cut the harness 

 of the dogs. I shouldered my box with my papers and journals, 

 and, crawling along on hands and knees, we made our way out 

 of the dangerous neighbourhood, with water close on one side 

 and steep mountains on the other, from which stones as large 

 as a man were hurled down as if by invisible hands. We had 

 enough to do to crawl along ourselves and could not help our 

 dogs, who were so terrified that they dared not move. We were 

 freezing fast ; Oojooaktok had lost one mitten in the tussle 

 with the wind, my furs were ripped by a sharp piece of ice ; we 

 felt a stiffness come over us, an almost irresistible desire to lie 

 down and give up the struggle against the elements. But we 

 roused ourselves, and half crawling, half walking, we came back 

 to the houses, badly frozen and exhausted. 



When the natives heard that our dogs were still on the ice, 

 four men went out to bring them back, but it was almost three 

 hours before they returned, frozen and cold, one with a hand 

 torn, each dragging a dog or two. They brought them all 

 except one -which they could not find. 



Never till then did I fully realize the force of the wind. It 

 was frightful to watch the raging of the elements, to hear the 

 wind roaring over the cliffs, the crash of stones hurled from 

 a height of 700 feet against the ice below, to hear the sighing 

 and groaning of the ice when it bent under the pressure 

 of the wind, to see the water whipped into foam in the open 

 lanes. One of the natives, a fellow called Pikok, a sailor from 

 one of the whalers, illustrated the force of the wind with the 

 following graphic saying : " By God ! him wind, him blow like 

 hell, hit hard, rock all the same," words which were not far 

 from expressing my own opinion. I was glad to be back, but 

 when the gale kept on blowing and our food was still flapjacks 

 and rotten fish, I more than ever longed to be at Point Hope, 

 where food abounded and where white men lived. 



As my sledge was a perfect wreck and one of my dogs had a 

 foot frozen, I hired one of the natives to take me down to Point 

 Hope. We started on Friday, December 6, when the weather 

 abated, and reached the scene of my breakdown. My scattered 

 outfit had been blown along for more than a quarter of a mile, 

 but I found most of it, more or less dilapidated, and after lash- 

 ing it on the sledge we started afresh. 



