THE SHIP AT LAST 421 



vessel was considerably overdue and I began to fear 

 some accident had happened her. It was not a very 

 pleasant thought, for I was thoroughly tired of the 

 country, and so hungry for a taste of civilization that 

 even the remote prospect of having to endure another 

 Arctic winter appeared to me as tragic. No man ever 

 had a greater hunger for home than I then experi- 

 enced. However, my dates were so uncertain that I 

 felt it quite possible I was several days ahead in my 

 reckoning, in which case the ship might not be so late 

 after all, and with this thought I tried to console my- 

 self. The Eskimos calculate dates by the develop- 

 ment of the little auks and young hares, and they 

 assured me, when I complained that the ship was late, 

 that the Erik and Roosevelt did not arrive so early the 

 year before. The young auks, they insisted, were 

 much larger and had many more feathers, and the 

 young hares larger and whiter then than now. They 

 told me not to worry, and repeated in a convincing 

 and consoling manner, "Witchchow, omeaksaw," [by 

 and by the ship will be here.] 



Snow and rain continued until midnight, when the 

 sun broke out, the clouds dispersed, with dying wind 

 and quieting sea, and there was better promise of good 

 weather than for a long while. During all these 

 periods of storm, when walrus-hunting was not pos- 

 sible, the ever active Eskimos devoted themselves to 

 gathering and caching little auks, or in other land 

 hunting. Six of them left in the whale-boat while it 

 was snowing to run up the shore for this purpose, 

 and had been absent twenty-nine hours when the 



