OUT OF THE ICE 157 



our way back against the howling storm and heavy sea. 

 As it was, we crawled around the steep mountain, wal- 

 lowing in the billows, and battled for two hours with the 

 wind in an effort to get up to the village on the southern 

 side of the cape. But now the wind was against us, and 

 even in the comparatively smooth water we could not 

 make headway. 



At midnight the mate said, "It's no use," and turned 

 back to spend the night hugging the steep face of East 

 Cape, where the violence of the storm could not touch 

 us with its full fury. Back and forth we cruised in a 

 small space till morning, just holding ourselves from 

 being blown across the strait, whence it might have 

 taken days to return. For we had to unload the walrus 

 and the three men whom we had brought a month ago 

 from Welen, before we could run over to Nome and call 

 our Arctic voyage ended. 



As soon as the wind eased up a bit in the early morn- 

 ing we put her again to the test and drove her at top 

 speed into the furious blast. Inch by inch she gained 

 ground and by breakfast time we had anchored a quarter 

 mile from the beach at Peek, or East Cape Station, 

 where the Russian post "Deshnef" stood. A dozen 

 igloos, sodded up to the top of the wall, overlooked from 

 a fifty-foot bluff the rambling frame building of the 

 Russian post and the huts of the squawman Charley 

 Carbondale. Chukchi Frank went ashore at once and 

 walked the six miles across the neck of land to Welen to 

 bring dog-teams for the work of getting the walrus meat 

 ashore. Here we lost the service of our three Welen 

 natives: Terinkau (Slim), cabin boy; Humkui (Frank); 

 Hwatawin (John). They were all inteUigent and re- 

 sourceful men. 



