My northern exposure : the Kawa at the Pole

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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

3 9090 014 564 104

Webster Family Library of Veterinary Mediane

Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at

Tufts University

200 Westhorn Rnari

Dr. Walter E. Traprock and Snak

MY
NORTHERN EXPOSURE

THE RAW A AT THE POLE

BY
WALTER E. TRAPROCK

F.R.S.S.E.U., N.L.L.D.

AUTHOR OF "THE CRUISE OF THE KAWa"

WITH TWENTY-ONE FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON

Ube fmicfterbocfeer press

1922

Copyright, 1922

by

G. P. Putnam's Sons

Made in the United States of America

S*\

DEDICATED

TO

IKIK, SNAK, YALOK, LAPATOK
AND KLIPITOK

(THE ONLY ESKIMOS I EVER LOVED)
AND

SAUSALITO

FOREWORD

BY

Irving T. Grosbeak, R.O.T.C.

AT DURFEE COLLEGE, XENLA, O.

For hundreds of years men have struggled amid
snow and ice to reach one or the other of the earth's
poles. Why? What has attracted them? What
has been the lure which has led them from warm
firesides and comfortable radiators to suffer the
rigors of a most annoying climate?

We search in vain among the writings of modern
polar explorers for a satisfactory answer to this
question.

In earlier days we find credible reasons for this
fanatical zeal, reasons which were material and com-
mercial. In the dark ages we know that hardy
Norsemen sought an Ultima Thule beyond the
Arctic Circle. The Irish also claim credit for the
earliest discoveries. They would. These voyages
were mere forays undertaken with the hope of ad-

7

8 FOREWORD

vantages in barter and exchange.. Following the
establishment by Columbus of the globular theory
of earth formation we read, likewise, of many futile
attempts to reach the fabled wealth of India by
short cuts and northwest passages. The adven-
turous Cabots, fearless Frobisher and gallant Gil-
bert were mainly occupied with material aims, the
securing of additional colonies for the crown,
additional gold for the royal treasury. They were
out for the cush.

But when we turn to modern days in which the
forbidding character of the northland has been well
understood we are more puzzled to find a reason-
able explanation for its fascination. We meet fre-
quently that strange phrase, "the lure of the
North," which is later described in terms of un-
speakable hardships. We are told that this or that
expedition was undertaken in order "to add to the
sum of human knowledge" though that addition
proves to be a series of tidal observations and baro-
metric readings which could have been arrived at
with sufficient exactness by scientific computations.

Moreover, without belittling the courage and de-
termination of our gallant Peary, it is evident that
his exploit was not discovery in its strictest sense.
The pole had been located for centuries as being

FOREWORD 9

the exact point of convergence of the meridional
lines. Its precise position was known. To reach it,
then, was a problem in transportation rather than
one of actual discovery. This problem Peary solved
magnificently and since that memorable April 6th,
1909, the flags of the United States, Delta Kappa
Epsilon (Gnu Chapter), the world's Ensign of
Peace, the Navy League and the Red Cross have
flapped concertedly at the top of the world.

And yet the mystery has remained. We can not
read the stories of these brave men, from the most
successful to the least, without wondering what it
was which actually drew them into the regions of
eternal ice and snow. We can but suspect some
great, unrevealed truth, some untold secret lying
back of the veil of fog, shrouded in the darkness of
the long Arctic night.

May we not well ask, "Has the entire truth been
told? has the last word been spoken which will for-
ever answer the natural question, why go there?"

It has remained for Walter E. Traprock to
answer that question in no uncertain terms. The
writer has no hesitation in saying that since the
perusal of Dr. Traprock's log the entire northern
question has been illuminated with perpetual sun-
shine.

10 FOREWORD

It is not within the province of this foreword to
go into details. The reader can, at the close of this
book, lay it down with the thought that he knows
the whole story of the North, the truth, the whole
truth, and a lot else.

But it would be wrong for us to lay our pen
aside without a word of explanation as to how the
Traprock Polar Expedition came to be undertaken,
for the circumstances were at once so dramatic and
unusual as to warrant their preservation in definite
form. In the spring of 1921, following Traprock's
amazing discovery of the Filbert Islands, a meet-
ing of the Explorers Union of the United States
was held in the Federation Rotunda in Cambridge,
Mass. The name of Traprock was in every mouth
and to many it was distinctly unpalatable. A three
days meeting resulted in the formation of the Trap-
rock Polar Expedition. One half of the necessary
funds was supplied by the Federation, the re-
mainder being pledges by individuals.* But here is
the dramatic truth which has never before been
stated.

THE FEDERATED EXPLORERS
NEVER EXPECTED DR. TRAPROCK TO
RETURN!

* All of these individual pledges are still outstanding. — Ed.

FOREWORD 11

The entire expedition was a deliberate plot on
the part of jealous scientific men to forever remove
from the field of action their most brilliantly suc-
cessful rival. How this dastardly effort failed is
told in the succeeding pages, which add fresh lustre
to the crown, fresh laurel to the brows of America's
intrepid son, Walter E. Traprock.

A mere statement of the fact that the first con-
dition of Traprock's contract was that he should
not only reach the Pole himself but that he should
take his ship there will indicate the handicaps which
were imposed from the start.

Did Traprock flinch or evade? Did he hesitate
or shilly-shally.

Let the ice-bergs answer! Let the seals bark
reply ! Let the north wind howl its answer.

Better still, let the testimony of Traprock be
graved on the Palisades of Time, that the world
may know forever just exactly "Why Explorers
Leave Home!"

Irving T. Grosbeak.
Hall of Applied Ceramics,
Durfee College, Xenia, O.

CONTENTS

Chapter I

The Origin of the Expedition. A memorable meeting.
Inklings of a plot. My innocent enthusiasm. Our per-
sonnel. I put the proposition up to Triplett . Page 17

Chapter II

Our triumphant departure. A man missing. Wigmore's
gallant embarkation. The Kawa herself. A new idea in
construction. A few boresome details . . . Page 31

Chapter III

The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard a
passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the long twilight.
Radio reversals. The ice at last. Trouble with our
water-line. Its happy solution . . . Page 55

Chapter IV

We reach the polar cap. The strange incident of the
missing Orders. Who stole the papers? The Arctic
summer. A sportsman's Paradise. Notes from my
journal. Whinney's sad experience . . Page 79

Chapter V

The last ten miles. A mental observation. We lose our
magnetic bowsprit. The Big Peg at last! "The Lady,
first!" We celebrate our arrival. I glimpse a vision.

Page 103

13

14 CONTENTS

Chapter VI

Fatal procrastination. Our one-dimensional position. An
extraordinary ornithological display. I confide in Swank.
His plan. I capture my vision. The Klinkas. An em-
barrassing incident Page 131

Chapter VII

Still procrastinating. Our pastimes at the Pole. An
exchange of love-tokens. Ikik's avowal. Caught in the
embrace of the Aurora Page 163

Chapter VIII

The Arctic Night. The temptation of Traprock. The
pros and cons of falling. We solve an age-old riddle.
Our Polar Christmas. The love-philtre. Abandonment.

Page 181

Chapter IX

Sausalito's strategy. Orders must be obeyed. We turn
southward. The parting. Mutiny and desertion. In the
grip of the Ice King. A fight to the finish. Victory.

Page 205

Chapter X

In home waters. The celebration in our honor. And
what of my companions? Reveries and Recollections.
The End Page 229

" The Camera Cannot Lie"

ILLUSTRATIONS

Dr. Walter E. Traprock and Snak .

Frontispiece

Triplett the Undaunted

Un Dejeuner a la Bougie

What the Well-dressed Explorer will
Wear

The Big Hunting

The Two Bears .

The Nine o'Clock Bottle

Intensive Optimism .

The Avowal

About to be Captured

Something New in Dramatics

After the Bath

Dinner is Served

A Far-off Fashion Plate

15

23
35

47
59
71
83
95

107
117
127
137
147
157

16

ILLUSTRATIONS

a nlmrod of the north
An Arch Archeologist
The Battle on the Brink
Ode to the Aurora .
A Moment Musical .
Dirty Work at the Igloo?
A Consultation .

167
177

187
197
209
221
233

Photographs by
N. COURTNEY OWEN

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Chapter I

The Origin of the Expedition. A memorable
meeting. Inklings of a plot. My innocent
enthusiasm. Our personnel. I put the propo-
sition up to Triplett.

17

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Chapter I

"Mush!"

The cry of command rang out on the frosty air.

"Mush!"

Again the surrounding ice echoed the word which
seems, more than any other, to tell the whole story
of the Xorth.

At its repetition, my sturdy followers hurled their
bulks against the trace-collars while a babel of
exhortation shattered the silence. "Let's go!"
"We're off." "Attaboy!"

The Traprock Polar Expedition was on its way!

We had reached the edge of the great polar-pack.
Those of my readers whose knowledge of ice packs
is limited to those which can be wrapped in an ordi-
nary hand-towel can, of course, form no impression
of the magnitude and desolation of the scene which
lay before us. As far as the eye could see. . . .

But I am far north of my narrative. It would

19

20 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

be an obvious injustice to my companions and fel-
low-polarists to omit mention at this time of the per-
sonnel of our extraordinary expedition, the most
complete and carefully organized that ever set out
toward the Big Peg.

Let us go back, then, in memory to the eventful
meeting of the Explorers Union, held in Cambridge
on Friday, April 1st, 1921. I can see the picture
with vivid distinctness, the shining bald-heads and
snowy crowns of the aged members, o'er arched by
the larger but no more dignified dome of the
Rotunda itself, the bright spots of light on the
polished mahogany table, the swift fingered sec-
retary, who had gorgeous henna hair, I remember —
I can see it all; — and I can hear clearly the voice
of old Dr. Waxman, the President, (whose exploits
in the Ant- Arctic will be well remembered,*) as he
rose and said,

"Well then, gentlemen, it is settled. Traprock
must go."

The company as one man echoed the President's
remark.

"Traprock must go!"

With the sound of this verdict ringing in my ears
I delivered a short speech of appreciation. Little

* "Ants of the Ant- Arctic" by W. W. Waxman, F.O.B.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 21

did I realize at the time the sinister influences which
had been at work to bring about the very result
which so filled my heart with pride. Little did I
know that among the men who sat by my side that
evening sharing with me the hand and hip of friend-
ship, passing me an occasional peanut from the store
which the President was cracking with his gavel,
little did I imagine that among them were some to
whom the words "Traprock must go" meant a far
different thing from what it did to me. But as old
Tertullian has it, "'Nemo me immune lacessit" —
"What you don't know won't hurt you"; and so
from a full heart I thanked them.

At the end of twenty minutes, President Wax-
man interrupted me to ask, "When can you start?"

I heard one of the older members whisper, "Not
'when can he start?' When can he stop?"

"Now." I answered with characteristic brevity,
giving the whispering member a look which he will
never forget.

The meeting broke up forthwith. Before leaving
the Rotunda, Adolph Banderholtz, Secretary-for-
Polar- Affairs of the Explorers Union (which I
shall hereafter refer to as the E.U.) handed me a
typewritten list of names.

"These are our nominations for the expedition,"

TRIPLETT THE UNDAUNTED

Captain Ezra Triplett, the navigator of Dr. Traprock's metamor-
phic yawl needs no introduction to students of marine accomplish-
ment. To lay-readers perhaps a brief preamble is in order. Born a
not-too-simple son of New Bedford, Mass., Triplett has climbed the
rope-ladder of success from cabin-boy to Captaincy, from poop-deck
to mast-head. Gifted with uncanny nautical skill this Captain
Courageous is equally at home on ice.

Seldom if ever has the camera been more successful in catching
the very soul of the sitter, who in this case is standing. But
whether assis or debout Ezra Triplett is always master of the
situation. The animals in the background are not dogs but Amoks,
those wild vulpines of the North which have been trained by hand
to obey their master's voice.

The whip, coiled snake-like about the Captain's friendly artics, is
an entirely superfluous emblem of authority, for this remarkable
man achieves his results by the power of the human eye alone. In
this connection it should be noted that Triplett is limited to a single
optic. The one on the right as one faces the photograph is phony,
the original having literally leaped out of its socket many years
ago during an exciting kangaroo hunt. The eye, rolling away into
the bush, was never recovered in spite of a handsome reward-notice
in the Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide press. Thus Triplett lost
not only the sight of the eye but the eye itself. What the Captain
achieves with his single orb is nothing short of amazing and we have
frequently seen him face-down such fearless fellow-men as George
Jean Nathan merely by turning towards them his blind eye.

Both attitude and costume are superbly characteristic, the massive
oak-timbered frame filling to repletion the bearskin jerkin with its
practical one-man-top. As a protection for the nether limbs Trip-
lett invariably wore light woolen pajamas with gee-string exits and
entrances. This scant covering was ample even in the severest
weather, owing to the fact that Triplett's own limbs are clothed
with a heavy coat of natural fur which, in his own words, is "grown
on the place."

vv

tf~

- \ .

Vb

1

Id

3

;*{

^?^

w

■ .- ■ .

*W-

•^

fyfjr f 1 -

^ ■^~"'\

Triplett the Undaunted

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 25

he said with his shallow smile. "You will find them
admirably equipped in their respective depart-
ments. Good-bye."

He extended a limp hand which I hurt as much
as possible by using a peculiar grip taught me by an
old swaboda in the Malay peninsula. He went
deathly white and faded from my view. I fear I do
not always realize my strength.

Banderholtz is one of the type of arm-chair ex-
plorers which I particularly detest. Everything he
does is superficial. In the early days when airplanes
were safer than they are now because they would
not rise more than six feet from the ground, he
gained a great reputation as a birdman on the
strength of once having been up in a captive-bal-
loon in the Bois de Boulogne.

But this is no place for personal animosities. I
caught the midnight train to New York, rang for
the Porter and insisted that my section be un-made
and a table furnished. Now that the matter was
settled I was burning with a desire to work out the
details. All night I toiled away, the click of my
typewriter being the only sound except an occa-
sional curse from the occupants of nearby berths.
An old gentleman in upper-seven disturbed me
somewhat with his snoring but gradually the sound

26 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

blended itself with the snorts of the sea-lions which
I was already hearing in imagination and I became
oblivious to all interruption. When the train pulled
into Grand Central my preliminary work was com-
plete. My various lists, personnel, food, equip-
ment, scientific objects, etc. had all been sketched
out. The remaining weeks of April were devoted
to the detail of complete organization, all of which
I attended to personally.

Since I have already spoken of the E.U. list of
names, I may as well dispose of the subject at this
time. Quite naturally it was composed, in the main,
of scientific men, men famed each in his particular
field. I knew them by their works, and a casual
glance at the list convinced me that our expedition
would compare with the best in its scientific depart-
ments.

The first name was that of Warburton Plock,
whose reputation in anthropology, zoology and
biology fitted him to size up and classify any living
thing. Plock's work on simians and femurae is the
accepted monkey-manual in most menageries. I
shall never forget the impression it made upon me
the first time I read it.

The important studies of cartography, ocean-
ography, topography and kindred subjects were

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 27

allotted to Elmer E. Miskin, of the E.U. library
forces. Miskin was what one might call a self-made
explorer. He had worked his way up from the
bottom of the paper basket, through a long course
in filing and cataloguing. While a boy in the grade
schools of his native town of Peapack, N. J. he had
shown early promise by winning five consecutive
gold stars in map-drawing and one of his prize-
winning creations with the Orange Mountains rep-
resented by caterpillars glued on the cardboard now
hangs behind the door of the Principal's office of
the Hooker Avenue School. This was his first ex-
perience in the field.

Three other names complete the E.U. list, Croy-
den Sloff, magnetician, electrician and victrologist,
Winchester Wigmore, snow- and ice-expert and
Bartholomew Dane, egyptologist.

It was with surprise that I saw the name of War-
burton Plock. We had met frequently in the old
days when we used to gather round the keg at the E.
U. meetings and our feelings had always been anti-
pathetic. But I resolved that no fancied grudges
should cloud the sky of our venture and immedi-
ately wired Plock a cordial telegram saying, "Am
counting on your loyal support and hope I shall
get it."

28 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

It is hardly necessary to say that my own selec-
tions for travelling companions included my old
friends Herman Swank, the artist, and Reg Whin-
ney, scientist, whose loyalty and devotion during
my South Sea travels have forged links of friend-
ship which can never be broken. Swank's enthusi-
asm at the prospect of actually painting the aurora
borealis from life was unbounded. He at once
thought of his colleagues in the colorful modern
school. "I'll have them skinned a mile," he cried.

Other men may possibly excel in special lines, but
I am confident that as an all-round scientist, Whin-
ney can give them all cards and spades. His fund
of general information saved me thousands of dol-
lars for he combined several people in one. For
instance he knew quite enough about medicine to be
our official doctor. As soon as he received the polar
invitation he set about studying polar diseases, snow
blindness, scurvy, chill-blains, frost-bite and so on.
He was an expert photographer and got results
from a 3*4 x ^A Kodak that surprised everybody
including himself. He had also become keenly in-
terested in radiography and brought a complete
outfit aboard with him, using his own body as a
spool upon which to coil his antennae until they
could be rigged in a proper manner. Most

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 29

men have two sides, but Whinney had at least a
dozen. He combined many men in one. Way
back in our college days I recall that he was taken
on the Christmas trip of the Glee Club because
he could play the banjo and he made the banjo-
club because he could sing. He wasn't good at
either but he averaged well.

In addition to Swank and Whinney, I made
another selection based on painstaking thought. I
asked my life-long friend, Sydney Freemantle
Frissell, to go along as recreationist and entertainer.
Northern expeditions, especially through the long
hours of the Arctic night are very dull affairs.
Along about midnight, with morning three months
away, the party is apt to die. Then is when a man
like Frissell is invaluable. He has no brains what-
ever, but the most amazing vitality and can wake up
any assembly by sheer audacity. I deliberated a
long time as to whether to get Ed Wynn or Frissell,
but finally decided in favor of Frizzy as he could
come and Wynn couldn't.

Needless to say, our Captain was the same
staunch old oak-framed navigator, Ezra Triplett,
who had gotten the Kawa into so many tight holes
in the past.

"What ship?" he asked when I put it up to him.

30 MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE

"Kawa," I said.

"Done, by thunder," he roared.

Honest Ezra Triplett! Loyal, staunch friend,
quaint, saturnine, creature that he is.

"Doc," he said, "I'd like darn well to take one of
my wives along. It's gonter be kinder lonely up
there in the ice with all you boys off gunnin'."

I smiled indulgently at the old man's foibles.

"Which one do you want to take?"

"The gal from Sausalito," he explained. "I
ain't seen her in about a year, an' I'm gettin' kinder
fed-up on . . . you know . . . Xoo York."

I nodded. "We'll have to keep it secret. You
know I've absolutely forbidden it. She can join us
at St. Johns and come aboard as ward-robe woman.
Xo one must suspect that she is your wife."

Triplett shifted his quid and slowly winked his
false eye.

"She ain't," he said.

Chapter II

Our triumphant departure. A man missing. Wig-
more's gallant embarkation. The Kawa her-
self. A new idea in construction. A few
boresome details.

31

Chapter II

From her berth in the Harlem, the Kawa
steamed, or to be more exact, gasolined, to the land-
ing stage of the N.Y.Y.C. station at the foot of
East Twenty-second St. Our progress had been
one of triumph. Every passing ship had hailed us
by bell, whistle or horn, to which was added the
hoarse blare of sirens from the converted breweries
which line the banks. Gay stevedores threw their
caps in the air and tossed lumps of coal in our direc-
tion, surely a magnificent tribute with coal at its
present price. Street urchins shouted unintel-
ligible remarks and all manner of citizens joined in
the usual riparian rites. Passing under the stern
of a United Fruit Company steamer, the cook
waved a farewell from his galley and dumped a
bucket of potato peelings in our path.

Off Blackwell's Island the scene was particularly
affecting, the inmates giving me an appreciative
greeting, the trusties rushing to the sea wall and

3 83

UN DEJEUNER X LA BOUGIE

The candle which Dr. Traprock presented to the beautiful Ikik as
a love-token was generously shared by her with her co-wives. Its
appeal, curiously, was entirely gustatory, the flavor of refined wax
being a revelation to the native taste after their customary fare of
seal-fat and fish-oil.

Here we see the charming Yalok nibbling her share of the prized
dainty. The candle shown is one of six, specially cast for Dr. Trap-
rock by the Candlemas Club of Pittsburgh. Each one was designed
to last a month and thus bring light into the Arctic night. The
donors doubtless will be surprised and pleased at the knowledge that
the heroic-size of their gift met with great appreciation though not,
perhaps, in the way intended.

"Evening after evening," says Dr. Traprock in a private letter to
the editor, "the maidens sate about our Primus, passing the candle
from hand to hand much as we pass a loving-cup, though with less
reluctance. Each would nibble perhaps an inch from the coveted
cylinder and then hand it to her neighbor, crying, 'Lapatok's turn!'
or 'Klipitok's turn!' with the heartiest good-will imaginable."

The eminent explorer adds in a later paragraph, "Yalok seemed
the most greedily fond of the great taper and on one occasion nar-
rowly escaped death from choking on the wick which became wound
about her palate. Seeing her inordinate appetite for the strange
food, Ikik gallantly ceded her share, but I solaced the latter by
secretly giving her the beeswax tomato from my mending kit upon
which she feasted in private with vast delight!"

It is hard to imagine a more touching human sidelight than the
above intimate incident. The Editor has forwarded a copy of Dr.
Traprock's letter to the Candlemas Club where it is suitably framed
and hung in the swimming-pool.

Un Dejeuner a la Bougie

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 37

gazing longingly in my direction while those in
durance vile plucked off their shoes and beat upon
the cell bars to attract my attention. With my
glasses, I thought I recognized one or two familiar
faces but I can not be sure. At any rate I feel cer-
tain that their hearts went out to me even as mine
went in to them, and I could but paraphrase the
remark of Dean Bullock, "There, but for the Grace
of God, is the whole Traprock Expedition."

The reception at the Yacht Club station was a
gay affair. It was positively my first appearance
upon any landing-stage. The efficient steward had
arranged an authoritative punch and many a hearty
toast was pledged and responded to with feeling.
But we were soon on our way again. My final
orders sealed with the official-seal of the Explorers
Union, were placed in my hands by the venerable
President, Waxman, who was greatly affected at
parting. He had been eating peanuts of which he
was passionately fond, and I recall that he thrust a
few of them into my hands after saying, "Traprock,
we expect a great deal . . ." he choked, and was
unable to complete his sentence.

At exactly two o'clock, on the flood tide, we
backed out of the pier and under Triplett's guid-
ance worked our way sideways to mid-channel. The

38 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

steward at the Yacht Club dipped his colors and
fired a commodore's salute with his brass half-
pounder to which I replied in proper fashion, lining
up the entire expedition at the rail, eyes-right, while
Triplett blew our Klaxon and shook a chain of
sleigh bells which Frissell had brought along "be-
cause they seemed so northern."

It was during this lining-up process that I dis-
covered that one man was missing. It was Wig-
more, the snow and ice expert, who had failed to
put in an appearance and I was greatly depressed
by the fact which seemed to me to be an evil omen.
Moreover he was an extremely valuable man with
vast experience in alpine work as well as in the
practical phases of glaciology with which he came
in contact in his work as general-manager of the
Higley Ice Cream Cone Co. But marine law is
rigid. We were due to sail at two sharp, Wigmore
or no Wigmore, and we sped off without him.

But my disappointment was to be almost im-
mediately assuaged. When we were about an
eighth of a mile above the Canal Street bridge, the
last of the great arches which spans the river,
Swank rushed up to me and cried, "Look, look.
There he is !"

I followed the direction of his pointing finger.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 39

Sure enough, there was Wigmore, a tiny speck,
running along the center span of the bridge. He
was in full Alpine costume with rope, ax, pick
and felt hat, and I saw to my amazement that he
was going to board us. With the nimbleness of a
chamois he scrambled over the railing, instantly
beginning a spider-like descent of his rope which
he had hooked above. Silhouetted against the sky
I could see the curved feather in his cap, a minute
question mark. The question in my mind was one
of hair-raising anxiety. Would he make it, or not?
Upon the answer seemed to depend the whole suc-
cess or failure of our venture. His descent was
timed to a nicety. Just as the Kawa plowed be-
neath him he gave a shake of his body, loosening
the fastening, and dropped lightly to the deck amid
our resounding cheers. Was it only in imagina-
tion that I saw the Goddess of Liberty wave her
gigantic, torch-bearing arm, as if she too felt the
thrill of a brave deed, nobly done?

"Bravo, Wigmore," I cried. " But what detained
you?"

"My equipment, sir," he said, coming to atten-
tion. "They wouldn't let me into my apartment.
The clerk thought I was a line-man for the Edison
Company."

40 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

We all laughed heartily at the incident and
settled down to routine-life on ship-board. Our last
farewell from the great port of the Metropolis was
from the Detention Ward on Ellis Island. The
Pesthouse band was out in full-force and blew
germs into the air with much enthusiasm, but Trip-
lett had laid a course to windward so that we felt
no apprehension.

It is perhaps not amiss at this point to say some-
thing regarding the highly important part played
in our expedition by the Kawa herself. She ma)'
be said, I think, to be the star of a distinguished
cast, or more accurately, that she divided stellar
honors with me. For one of the conditions which
was part of my bargain with good old Waxman
and his associates was that I should actually take
my ship to the Pole!

The expression on the faces of the worthy com-
mittee of the E.U. when I accepted this astounding
condition is something that I must leave to the
reader's imagination.

"Yes, gentlemen," I had said to them. "It can
be done, and it will be done. Either I hitch the
Kawa to the Pole or I never return!"

My announcement was greeted with cheers.

Immediately upon my return from Boston I

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 41

closeted myself with Captain Triplett in the cozy
nautical room of the Book-lovers Library and we
jointly went over the layout of the Kawa from
stem to stern. We were surrounded by files of
drawings and a great mass of data upon naval
architecture with special reference to Arctic con-
ditions. From the outset I was imbued with a
conviction that we should find nothing of real im-
portance in what had been done before. A careful
study of my predecessors convinced me that they
had uniformly been on the wrong track. What
they had tried to do was to fight the ice. What I
proposed was to humor it.

The outstanding feature of such vessels as the
Fram and the Roosevelt was their rigidity. Their
construction followed the general principle of the
onion, consisting of numerous layers of heavy oak
sheathing shored up from the inside with a veritable
cob-web of balks, stanchions and braces. In addi-
tion to this, the sides of these ships were shaped so
as to offer as small a vulnerable target as possible.
The idea was that the stupendous pinch and
pressure of the ice-pack failing to get a firm hold
of the vessel should project her up from and out
of the ice. This idea is graphically illustrated by
an ordinary, household orange seed pinched sharply

42 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

between the thumb and forefinger. Rut I could
not help smiling at the naive short-sightedness of
these earlier men, for, assuming as sometimes hap-
pened, that the constructive features functioned as
outlined, what then? The ship was merely lifted
up until she canted over at a ridiculous and uncom-
fortable angle where she lay on the ice, a helpless
and absurd spectacle. Further motion in any direc-
tion was plainly impossible except at the whim of
the floe itself which often evinces a contradictory
tendency to move southward instead of northward
as per schedule.

While not wishing to discard entirely the idea
of elusive conformation I saw at once that radical
innovations would be necessary in order to accom-
plish my object. In a word, I proposed to convert
the Kawa into a non-rigid type of vessel.

"Triplett," I said, during our first conference,
"what is the slipperiest animal you know?"

The ancient mariner scratched his head reflec-
tively before replying. "Seals."

"Right!" I cried. "Go to the seal, thou slug-
gard! Triplett, it's an idea! We'll make the Kawa
as easy to handle as a greased hot water bottle."

For many days we worked over the plans and
eventually began actual operations on the Kawa

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 43

herself, hauling her out for the purpose at Tut-
bury's shipyard. She was completely eviscerated.
Her oak ribs and keel were removed and replaced
by Austrian bent-wood, of the finest temper. A
thin layer of yew-planking was laid over her sides
with lapped, sliding joints, filled with elastic roof-
ing-cement. Outside of this came a second layer
of slippery elm (%" x 2l/o") laid diagonally so that
the joints crossed those of the yew. The entire
hull was then covered with seal-skin, fur side out.
When she slid from the ways on her re-launching
the Kawa took the water as noiselessly as a musk-
rat, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we
made her fast as she slipped from the ship-wright's
grasp at the slightest pressure.*

"Gosh-t-a'mighty," grinned Triplett. "She's a
seal!"

You may be sure I utilized Whinney's scientific
ingenuity and it is to him I owe two innovations
which contributed greatly to our success. One of
these was the magnetic bowsprit, highly sensitized
by induction-coils run from the exhaust of our
20 h.p. Tutbury engine; the other was the thermal

* A quarter-scale model of the re-modeled Kawa has been pre-
sented to the Smithsonian Institute by the Jibboom Club of New
London, Ct. Needless to say all structural and mechanical details
are thoroughly protected.

U MY NORTHERN" EXPOSURE

water-line, the temperature of which could be raised
to 180 degrees Ity turning a switch which connected
with our storage batteries. Both of these inven-
tions worked perfectly.

Thanks to the bowsprit the problem of steering
our svelte craft, about which Triplett had expressed
some doubts, became a simple matter. Left to
herself she invariably came up into the north and
as that was the direction we wished to go all was
well. The thermal water-line made passage through
all but the thickest ice comfortable and easy. For
many years the Kawa had had no watei\-line what-
ever so that we were uncertain how she would be-
have. The new one consisted of a thin layer of
copper fastened to the elm siding, underneath the
seal skin. I like to think that the little Kawa be-
haved so nobly because she knew her water-line was
not visible.

Thus we arrived at a type of construction which
gave us the strength and elasticity of a water-tight
basket. What we had lost in rigidity we gained
in feather-like lightness. Before her engines were
installed the Kawa floated on the surface like a
toy balloon. When loaded, as she usually was,
she drew two-feet-six. The installation of the
engine and stowing of stores also had a tendency

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 45

to stabilize the hull and keep her masts pointing
upward which was a distinct advantage.

In addition to these marine features it was neces-
sary to consider the eventuality of encountering
solid, impenetrable ice in the region of the pole,
ice through which even the thermal water-line would
not make it possible for us to melt our way.
Authorities agree that such ice may be expected
north of eighty-six, even though we planned to time
our arrival in that vicinity for mid-summer when,
as is well known, the weather is extremely hot. This
is the fascination of Arctic travel ; one never knows
what to expect. Our problem, then, was to make
the Kawa equally at home on the floe or in the
open leads, a glorified sea-sled. My previous ex-
perience with the various types of sledges con-
vinced me that for my purpose they were useless.
My object was to take the Kawa to the Pole. Then
why not make the Kawa herself a sled?

I recognized instantly the feasibility of my
scheme, which consisted of folding guide-runners
framed of carefully selected greenheart. When
not in use these runners extended horizontally along
the counter, giving my little craft a singularly bird-
like appearance. Incidentally they formed con-
venient luggage carriers similar to those attached

WHAT THE WELL-DRESSED EXPLORER WILL WEAR

Fine feathers do not make fine birds, but aigrettes are still forty
dollars a stalk. Something of this thought evidently dominated
the mind of Warburton Plock in the selection of his wardrobe.
Plock, who is shown against a typically iglootinous background, was
the only member of the expedition who paid no heed to his leader's
advice in this regard, namely, to dress off-the-Eskimos. Instead of
so doing he ordered his outfit built for him by Buskwa, the leading
tailor of Nome. The garments were taken aboard at St. John's and
formed a large part of Plock's luggage. They varied in design
from a simple going-away suit to the most elaborate mufti, sports
costume and evening dress.

In the attached fashion-plate the fastidious explorer is clad in
the well-known "Buskwa-model" morning suit, which is made from
the pelts of unborn teddy bears. This, according to the wearer,
is the super-correct thing for the Young-Man-About-the-Pole. The
accessory cane and cigarette are personal touches calculated to
attract the attention of whomsoever he may meet north of Eighty-six.
Vanity, in the Great White Spaces as elsewhere, precedes a fall,
but usually only by a step or so. To be fair to the house of Buskwa
it should be stated that Plock's garments were invariably tastefully
designed and well-made. No detail of findings or linings was
slighted. They were, however, entirely unsuited to the rigors of
Polar climate.

The Buskwa trade is chiefly derived from the wealthier Chicoutimi
families living along the Mad River and points South. To single
out a single defect, the self-drawing fish-pockets are doubtless use-
ful features to a people who spend many hours in the salmon streams.
In the icy polar region the cold air naturally forced its way through
the sartorial scuppers with the result that the wearer was soon
forced to don another suit to avoid freezing. At the time of his
attempted escape Plock was wearing his entire wardrobe, seven
suits in all, which were recovered with the body of the fugitive.
The clothes were later eaten by members of the return-party, who
more than once had occasion to pay tribute to the tailor who had
selected such delicious materials.

What the Well-dressed Explorer Will Wear

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 49

to the running boards of automobiles and, in fair
weather, could be used as piazzas or sleeping
porches covered with a high pile of bear-skins to
make occupancy easy.

Thus you have a fairly complete idea of my
metamorphosed vessel, adapted to meet any and
all conditions.

But one word more, as to stores and equipment,
and I will promise not to bore my readers further
with these deadly technical details, which I fully
realize have prevented the success of many a tale
of Arctic adventure. In making up my lists I was
guided by a principle which I have followed all my
life, namely, that of taking with me only those
things for which a proper substitute could not be
found in the high latitudes. This simple thought
I always practise in a restaurant, for instance,
where I never by any chance order anything which
might be served in my home. Just prior to leaving
New York I heard a gentleman ask for corned-
beef hash in the Ritz ! I could but pity him. Yet
it is this apparently trivial tendency which has sent
many an expedition off to the Arctic circle burdened
with voluminous packs of furs and crushing weights
of supplies, all of which could be most easily secured
from the Eskimos themselves who, with the possible

50 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

exception of the Cambodians, are the most friendly
people I have ever encountered.*

Our clothing then was of the lightest. We started
our journey dressed in plain business suits such as
are worn by guides in the Canadian wilderness, but
stowed in our duffle-bags were ample quantities
of light underwear, both union and non-union,
while included in my personal kit were three pairs
of medium-weight, woolen longs with reinforced or
sliding seats to make progress over the ice more
easy. For outer wear during the warm season we
carried the conventional tennis flannels and Palm-
Beach suits and I am thankful to Swank for the
suggestion that we include the tropical helmets
which had shielded us so faithfully in the Filberts.
They proved of inestimable value.

Most travellers into the land of refrigeration
insist upon taking in with them bales of hay with
which to pack their boots and thus absorb the
moisture which would otherwise result in aggra-
vated cases of cold feet. For this particular prod-
uct I substituted a type of breakfast food of my
own invention called "wheat whiskers" which comes

* As guest of King Sisawath II in 1908, I was presented with the
Bkatha or Freedom of the Palace, which was more than I could
possibly use.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 51

in compacted cubes of farinaceous filament. These,
when needed, can be teased out to four times their
initial bulk. The advantages of this product are
evident, since it is both excellent boot-packing and
nourishing food, or, as Frizzie put it "good for
both hoof and mouth disease." Another dual per-
sonality in our list of stores was the solid alcohol,
primarily intended for fuel, but also edible. This
necessity was under my immediate jurisdiction as
the responsible head of the party.

Too much credit can never be given to those
great American institutions, the 5-and-10-cent
stores, from which we were able to obtain at slight
cost the necessary snow-goggles, ice-picks, cooking
utensils, etc., which form a part of every expedi-
tion. From the same source we also purchased a
sizable number of toys for use in bartering with
the natives. All these lighter elements of our bag-
gage were rolled in bolts of mosquito netting in
the folds of which were packed fly-swatters (two
per man), bottles of citronella, green fishing-veils,
and other objects useful in combating the teeming
insect life which springs into being at the first
touch of the Arctic sun.

These, then, were our general stores. Each indi-
vidual looked after the equipment necessary for his

52 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

own department. Sections of the Kawa, amid-
ship, were allotted in alphabetical order, where,
with a narrow aisle between, were tightly crammed
Plock's anthropological charts, Miskin's map-card-
boards, surveying instruments and colored crayons,
Sloff' s batteries, Wigmore's alpine ice instruments
(including a horn), Dane's mummy-cases and
scarabs, Whinney's camera supplies and radio-out-
fit, and Swank's paints and palettes. Frissell's
personal impedimenta was unique and had no bear-
ing whatever upon scientific research. It consisted
of eighteen different fancy-dress costumes, wrapped
up in which were a ukelele and six pogo sticks.
At later intervals he kept producing smaller musi-
cal instruments, magic egg-cups and other enter-
taining devices which more than once rescued our
spirits from the depths of black despair. Triplett
carried, as usual, only his pouch of extra glass
eyes and a small, well-worn, black bag which, to
my certain knowledge, he never opened. I think
he felt that it gave him dignity and was demanded
of him, just as baggage is considered necessary by
some punctilious hotel clerks. Whenever we left
ship for more than a day, Triplett insisted on carry-
ing his black bag. He looked as if he were about
either to embalm a body or tune a piano. I could

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 53

never quite decide which. One day when he was
ill, during the latter part of our trip, I peeked in
the bag. It contained the upper half of a pair of
pajamas and the photograph of a beautiful, — but
I feel that respect for the old fellow's romantic
heart, hidden deep beneath his tough hide, forbids
me to say more. Somehow that little black bag
became to me a symbol of its owner, concealing
beneath its alligator-skin rind the elements of some
exquisite life-incident !

Chapter III

The choice of a route. Off at last. We take aboard
a passenger. Seeds of discontent. Into the
long twilight. Radio reversals. The ice at last.
Trouble with our water-line. Its happy solution.

55

Chapter III

Those of my readers who have not deserted
during the cataloguing of our supplies may be inter-
ested in knowing something of our route. The
lines of approach to the Pole are, of course, infinite
in number. Let me illustrate this fact in a simple
way.

A direct projection of the northern hemisphere
would resemble a pie with the Equator at its rim
and the Pole at its center. Now imagine our pie
cut into four quarters. We have, obviously, four
ways to the Pole. But now suppose the arrival of
unexpected company, four in number ; a less gener-
ous distribution of our pie becomes necessary. The
scientific housewife would at once solve the diffi-
culty by cutting the pie on intervening lines.
We now have eight pieces to our pie and, conse-
quently, eight ways to our pole. If we have eight

57

THE BIG HUNTING

As soon as the early August frosts warn the Eskimo huntsman
that winter is nigh, he begins to think about his food-supply. In
fact this is a thing he thinks about most of the time. Food is the
paramount consideration in polar-regions. It is the standard of
value, the source of warmth, the unit of measure it is everything.

There are in reality but two seasons, Winter and Summer, in the
regions immediately surrounding the Pole. Hunting is impossible
in the one because of the intense cold. But between the two periods
come a few days, a week at most, of intermediate temperature, too
short to be called Spring or Autumn, but too valuable to be lost.
It is during these short spells that the native must lay in his winter
or summer supply of meat, skins, etc. Consequently he is always in
a hurry.

The photograph shows Makuik at his favorite sport of seal-
slaughtering. Dr. Traprock tells us that owing to the amazing
abundance of game in these remote regions it was possible for the
mighty hunter to pursue his prey for four days without stopping
for rest or food save for an occasional hunk of flesh or fat torn
from one of his victims en passant.

"Makuik's elation,"' says the intrepid author, "became almost un-
pleasant. As the herds of seal, walrus and otary accumulated about
him their blood seemed to go to his head. Uttering a low crooning
cry which rose to a wild screech at every thrust of his raktok
(trident) he leaped about the floe with the soft agility of a Mord-
kin. An extraordinary sight was to see him hurl his weapon into
a passing flock of pemmican, spearing a fine bird on each of its
prongs. But his favorite game was seals because of their compara-
tive inability to escape and their rich food-value. Incidentally the
skins would make excellent gifts for his wives during the approach-
ing Yule-tide season (Kryptok-Boknik-Iok or Feast of Food).
Makuik evidently believed in '"doing his Christmas stabbing early."

At the close of the "big hunting/' Makuik had to his credit, besides
countless other game, four hundred and seventy seals. The photo-
graph pictures him making three holes in one, a feat which no
golf-player can ever hope to rivaL

pq

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 61

we may have sixteen, if sixteen, thirty-two, and so
on, by subdivision, to infinity. Q.E.D.*

The question immediately arose as to which route
I should select. I decided on the straightest, just
as I had decided, in Cambridge, to take the Kawa
to the North Pole instead of the South because it
was nearer. Obviously I must reach the polar ice-
pack before making my beeline as my ship was
adapted for but two elements, ice and water.
Travel over bare ground was not contemplated.
Wheels had never entered my head. How nearly
this fact cost us our lives makes a thrilling story
but one which comes later.

Thus, our object was to round Cape Race and
pick our way through Davis Strait which runs due
north through Baffin Bay, well beyond the Arctic
Circle. This is the most direct water route from
New York.

Our last glimpse of the homeland was the white
water over Sow-and-Pigs Ledge off Cutty hunk,
from which we set a course North by slightly East
to pick up the gas-beacon at mouth of St. John's

* Ekstrom illustrates the same point in his lectures by using a
cake (usually chocolate) in place of a pie. The objection to this
method is that the segmental walls have a tendency to crumble,
confusing the illusion of polar travel. Otherwise his system follows
mine. W. E. T.

62 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Harbor. As we swashed along outside of Cutty-
hunk I saw through my glasses a signal flag waved
from the piazza of the old fishing club which I
recalled having visited as a small boy in '88 when
the last sea-bass was hauled from those waters. A
moment later a small boat put off from the beach
near the lighthouse and rowed in our direction. It
was a hard pull for the sturdy islanders but we
stood by and finally took their helmsman aboard
who handed me a letter marked "Rush" which
proved to be a notice from the Westchester Light-
ing Company informing me that there was still a
payment due on my gas range. As I had opened
this missive in the privacy of my cabin I was able
to go on deck and tell the messenger, rather curtly,
that there was "no answer" and the good fellows
rowed away, giving us a hearty cheer as we turned
our nose to the open sea.

St. John's was our first port-of-call for I had to
redeem my promise to Triplett to pick up the
woman, "Sausalito," as he called her. I think the
old man was inspired by the thought of seeing
her, for he gave us an exhibition of navigation that
was an eye-opener. After leaving Cuttyhunk we
ran into a dense fog. For forty-eight hours this
continued, thick and impenetrable. Once we heard

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 63

the distant sound of the cod-fishers on the Banks
singing their morning song — an unspeakable
chantey about a dissolute person named Mary
Brown — but we saw no gleam of binnacle, sun
or shorelight. Yet through this murk, with the
magnetic pull on our bowsprit tending always to
veer us from our course, Triplett led us with such
accuracy that at exactly the appointed time we
caught the distant flash of the beacon and knew
that our first leg had been completed.

My followers knew nothing of my plan to take
Sausalito aboard and my instructions to Triplett
were to keep silent. The lady's first appearance
was not reassuring. She was standing on a dilapi-
dated pier head, valiantly defending herself from
volleys of stones hurled by native village lads.
Crouching behind a rusty try-out kettle she
responded in kind, directing her missiles with
vicious speed and accuracy. A curious morning
picture.

"That's her," chuckled Triplett. "She alius were
a speritted female."

The others looked on wonderingly as the Cap-
tain dropped over the stern into our cockle-boat,
pulled toward the dock and took the bulky figure
aboard.

64 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

"Who the devil is this?" asked Plock, scowling
darkly, as they neared our counter.

"My sewing woman," I said briefly. "Lend a
hand, man."

He did so with an ill grace, and a moment later
I saw him whispering to Wigmore and Sloff with
every evidence of displeasure. I myself was not a
little upset at the over-exuberance of Triplett's
manner toward this strange woman. She was a
dark, unkempt creature with bright gray-blue eyes
which contrasted strangely with her brown cheeks.
Her hair, what we could see of it, under her man's
cap, was nondescript ; teeth irregular. Two extra-
ordinary qualities, however, she had — a smile which
vivified her oddness with an unearthly beauty, a
brilliant, mocking irradiation that made her look
magically youthful, a crone metamorphosed into a
little girl, and a voice — O, a mystery of still waters !
— such a voice! — a deep resonant contralto, at
once caressing and vibrant, with strange breaks and
husky notes, melting softnesses and brazen clangor !
The Captain was delighted with the reunion.

"My leetle apple!" he cried, patting her, and,
indeed, the term was not inexact as her dusky
cheeks flashed with pleasure 'neath his great
paws.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 65

"How you've grown, Ezra!" she laughed, point-
ing to his capacious girth.

"Ain't I, though," he assented; "mostly 'round
the water-line!"

I felt that it was time I intervened.

"Gentlemen," I said to the group which had
gathered in the waist, "this is Mrs. Sausalito, our
sewing woman. . . ."

Then Triplett fairly spiked my guns by add-
ing,—

"And my wife!"

I could have killed the old fool! I hustled them
both below and turned back to face an indignant
ship's company.

Plock bustled up officiously. "See here, Trap-
rock," he blustered, "we don't like this. You
know. . . ."

"STOP!" I commanded in a voice that shook
the Kawa to the place where her keel would have
been had she had one. "To begin with, I want you,
Plock, to know that I am not 'Traprock' to you
or to any one else. I am 'Doctor Traprock, Sir
— do you understand?"

Plock growled an uneasy assent as I continued.

"I know perfectly well what is in your minds,
namely, that the understanding was that there

66 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

should be no wives on this voyage. This Sausalito
woman was engaged by me as seamstress. If she
is Triplett's wife, as he says, it is news to me. In
any case I want it thoroughly understood that I
am Boss on this ship. To your posts! Ready-
about to wear ship. Triplett, take the helm." (He
had come smirking out of the cabin.)

With surly "Aye, aye, sirs," they took up their
duties, as I struck sharply on the table-bell which
was screwed to the combing, the faithful Tatbury
began its revolutions and once more the little
Kawa slid gracefully through the long Atlantic
swells.

It was a magnificent day but I was frankly de-
pressed. Already a cloud of discord had arisen in
the ranks. Already an ominous rift had opened.
What might happen in the future only the future
could tell. I was filled with disquieting memories
of what had occurred to other Arctic explorers
whose cohorts had been split by dissension and
bitterness. I knew full well how they had sep-
arated, sometimes to perish under the very shadow
of the Pole itself, sometimes to fight their way
back to civilization in broken fragments which
spent the remainder of their lives in vilifying each
other. Little did I realize how much more tragic

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 67

was to be the outcome of this apparently trivial
incident.

In the meantime I was lulled into false security.
Two weeks of glorious weather made our progress
exceed even my sanguine schedules. Once clear of
Cape Race our course lay almost due north and
the full force of the magnetic pull on our bowsprit
could be utilized. To this we added, in favoring
weather, a mainsail forward and a jigger aft so
that we were able to conserve our fuel supply most
satisfactorily.

Our trip through Davis Strait into Baffin Bay
was a sight-seeing trip new to most of my men and
I was glad to be able to point out to them the
objects of interest along either shore, on the left
the cozy English hamlets of Mugford, Chisling-
hurst-on-Trent and Philpot Island, on the right the
quaint Greendlandic fishing villages of Fiskernoes,
Svartenhunk and Sukkertoppen, names eloquent of
their respective origins.

The days grew steadily longer. We were ap-
proaching the long twilight. On a memorable
Tuesday in June we crossed the Arctic Circle.
This is always an exciting event but particularly
so for those who experience it for the first time.
Needless to say, we observed the ritual honored by

68 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

mariners the world over. This follows closely the
ceremony celebrated in the tropics when "crossing
the line," with the variation that, instead of Nep-
tune coming aboard, the aquatic visitor is the North
King, a snowy potentate who is received with due
honor by all the ship's company, especially the
novices, who are forced to bring him presents and
perform tricks at his behest. We hove-to in a
narrow inlet on the Baffin shore known by the
romantic name of Petty's Bight, where we spent
a blithe two hours. Triplett played the kingly role
while I acted as master of ceremonies. I must
admit that this did not tend to calm the somewhat
ruffled feelings of my following but it made a
merry interlude in our routine.

During the long evenings Sausalito, laying aside
her busy needle, would read to us books from her
own library, "The Sheik" and the works of Ethel
Dell, Harold Bell Wright and the Johnstons, Sir
Harry and Owen. It was surprising how enter-
taining these things became to our little isolated
band. Often after a particularly serious page the
reader's sunlike smile would flood the main-deck
and the whole company would burst into peals of
laughter; then once more we would sit enthralled.
It must have been her voice. Frissell, alone,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 69

absented himself from these readings and sat apart,
lost in the perusal of "If Winter Comes" which
he supposed was a work intended for polar novices.

At this juncture Whinney was having a most
annoying time with his radio outfit upon which I
had counted to keep the company amused. The
best he could get was a series of noises which, in
themselves, were interesting but scarcely entertain-
ing. At times the magna-vox or "loud squeaker" as
Frissell called it, would emit dismal cat-calls such
as I have often heard from the upper gallery of
theatres.

"That's Arlington!" Whinney would exclaim.

Again the sound would be that of penny-a-pack
firecrackers such as one gives to children.

"Newark is calling us!" Whinney would say
seriously. "Wait a minute."

A series of readjustments and Jimmy Valentine
motions with the combination would result in a
raucous scraping as if a discouraged Victrola had
cut its throat.

"Pittsburgh!" would be the operator's tri-
umphant comment. "Wait a minute!"

We waited many a minute and hour, patiently
expectant, but nothing happened. The most try-
ing thing was Whinney's explanation. He would

THE TWO BEARS

Ikik is solemn. Ikik is offended. Her tender heart is roused.
Why? In the answer lies the story of one of the most charming
incidents of the Kawa's entire polar-cruise. In another picture the
reader will see Makuik descending with murderous intent, on the
back of a large polar-bear. Shortly after the kill it was dis-
covered that this bear had just become a mother. Her offspring
— there was but one — was immediately adopted by Ikik. Mother-
love, which flourishes even in the high latitudes, surrounded the little
cub with every protection. First reared as a bottle-bear, the bearlet
passed safely through the teething period and soon became the regu-
lar attendant of his foster-mother who fed him solicitously at every
meal.

It was this devotion which brought about the disturbance recorded
by the camera. Warburton Plock seems to have developed an
insatiable fondness for toasted-blubber. Not content with his own
share he resorted to the cowardly practice of prigging from Toktok,
as this ursus minimus was called. His method was characteristic
of the man, combining cunning with greed. Having privately con-
structed a small cube of wood corresponding in size to the usual
blubber-portion he would attract Toktok's attention and ostenta-
tiously bury the decoy in the snow at some distance from the actual
feeding ground. Then, while the little chap was busily digging for
the supposed dainty Plock would swipe the real blubber which
Makuik distributed with an impartial hand.

Ikik was no match in logic for the wily scientist.

"You are robbing my baby!" she wailed in the present instance.

"Yes," agreed Plock, "and your baby is under the impression
that he is robbing me."

Needless to say Dr. Traprock settled this matter in his own direct
fashion. As he said in conversation with the writer, "It is impossible
to argue with such fellows. The only practical thing is to crown
them."

The Two Bears

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 73

fix us mournfully with his brown eyes, while at the
same time trying to fix the machine and say
solemnly :

"The length of the antennae is in direct relation
to the wave length of the tuner. At the same time
the vacuum tubes must be connected with or, at
least, related by oscillation to the tuning circuit.
When a ship is in motion the undue number of
electric 'strays' disturbs the delicate filaments of
the tickler and absolutely wrecks the radio activity."

"I had one of those Radio-Rex things," cried
Swank. "My sweetie gave it to me for Xmas."

"I suppose you gave her a tickler," rumbled
Triplett.

The whole business vastly amused the old salt.
He could see nothing but foolishness in Whinney's
maneuvers, "trying to git God-a'mighty on the
'phone," as he put it.

But the attempts whiled away many an idle
moment, and day by day we were passing land-
marks which told me clearly that our goal was
nearer. The water became steadily colder, a fact
which we verified by the usual scientific method of
dipping out pailfuls from time to time and taking
their temperature with a bath thermometer.

At the northern end of Kane Basin where Green-

74 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

land makes out toward Ellesmere and Grant Land
we began to encounter ice. My readers can per-
haps imagine the thrill which was mine when I first
heard the soft scrape of frozen lips against the
Kawa's silky skin!

Ice at last! Ice! the vaunted terror of the north!
Leaning over the garboard streak I watched
anxiously to see how our gallant carrier would take
to the element for which she was designed. It
was a magical performance and a warm glow of
satisfaction suffused my heart as I noted how she
slipped through the glazed surface. Far beyond
in the northern sky gleamed the "ice blink," that
luminous brightness which told of frozen fields and
floes in the great beyond. We could feel the chill
of their vast bulk as we sat on deck of an evening.

We were now at the 82nd parallel and were
passing through what is known as mulch ice, which
is of about the same consistency and saltiness as
ordinary brine. Wigmore made a number of inter-
esting experiments with a small freezer, using corn
starch and condensed milk from his own equipment
and was able to produce a fair quality of ice cream
which had a slightly oily flavor doubtless due to the
presence of seals. From then on the ice developed
into what is called squidge-ice, thicker and more

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 75

lumpy than mulch, but still navigable. This, how-
ever, soon became a solid sheet, from four to ten
inches in thickness, the Kawa's progress became
slower and with something like acute anxiety I
requested Whinney to switch on the thermal water
line.

The effect surprised even Whinney whose inven-
tive imagination had proven itself capable of fore-
seeing almost anything which might happen and
many which might not. We were instantly sur-
rounded by a dense fog of our own making!

The ice edges of the squidge coming in contact
with the candescent copper vaporized immediately
and the atmosphere on board became that of a
Turkish steam-room. As is often the case it was
not so much the heat as the humidity.* Our cloth-
ing was wringing wet and we were perspiring at
every pore. It was easy to see what the fatal result
would be when we shut off the electric spark and
exposed our wide-open pores to the icy breath of
the north. Pneumonia and consumption, if not
worse, were almost certain.

Ordering all hands below for a rub-down we

* In Taupol, the southernmost of the Maladive Islands, I lived
for three months in a similar climate without injurious results but
it must be borne in mind that I wore only a one-piece suit of Klu'tra
(gobang leaves). T.

76 MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE

came to a stand-still and for two days did nothing
more than maintain our position by quarter-speed
revolutions of the Tutbury. At the end of that
time Whinney emerged from the main hatch, where
he had been incubating his ideas, with a look of
suppressed elation which told me that he had found
a solution of our difficulty. Without a word he
set about stringing wires from the storage batteries
to two points on the forward rail on a line with the
capstan. In less time than it takes to tell it he
had lashed two electric fans to the projecting sides
of the guide runners and screwed the wires into
the poles after which he walked aft and came to
attention.

"You may fire when ready, sir," he said, hand-
at-visor.

I gave the signal and once more the throb of the
engines shook our jelly-like sides, once more we
heard the hiss and crackle of the squidge as it gave
way before our burning zone but — a new sound!
We also heard the blended sonority of the two fans
as they pushed a powerful current of air along our
water line. Dense and low, the fog streamed past
us like parted rivers of milk, to rise in soft clouds
far to the southward.

A spontaneous cheer burst from my anxious band

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 77

and we gave Whinney three times three with a
right good will. At Triplett's suggestion — for he
was overjoyed at being able to see where he was
going — I ordered "half holiday" and issued five
plugs of solid alcohol in honor of our resumed
motion. It was a happy evening we spent in the
little cabin, Triplett, Sausalito and I, while the
others sat on deck in the pale sunlight, crooning
the old song which has been sung by polar ex-
plorers since viking days, "Nordenskold! Nor-
denskold! Tilig am poel." *

Triplett's adjustable yardarm which controlled
our conviviality was occasionally shifted to keep
the low circling sun directly over it and many a
toast was eaten as the cheery plug passed round.
My last conscious memory after my fifth quid,
was the sound of FrisselTs ukelele above my head
and beside me the unabashed endearments of Trip-
lett talking to his "apple."

* "Northland ! Northland ! I for you am." Undoubtedly the frag-
ment of an old Saga of Icelandic origin. A modern musical deriva-
tive was once popular in American folk song with the refrain, "Hip,
Hooray, we're off for Baffin's Bay, etc." See W. J. Krehbiel's "Gems
of Greenland," pp. 94-9G.

Chapter IV

We reach the polar cap. The strange incident of
the missing Orders. Who stole the papers?
The Arctic summer. A sportsman's Paradise.
Notes front my journal. Whinney 's sad ex-
perience.

79

Chapter IV

"Men, it is the Ice."

These words rang with a portentous solemnity
as I delivered them to the entire ship's company.

We had reached the solid floe. About us, white
and interminable, stretched the polar pack, with
here and there inky streaks, the open "leads" which
often yawn between the very feet of unwary
travellers. But for us, the way lay straight. Glanc-
ing at the compass and adjusting my gesture par-
allel to its needle, I pointed.

"Yonder lies the Pole!"

The seriousness of the moment imposed a silence
broken only by the screams of distant flocks of
pemmican and the yooping of seals — for we were
in the land of prolific game. The second leg of
our journey was accomplished. The great test still
remained, the long tug over the rough floor to the
Main Post itself.

"Men of the Traprock Expedition," I continued,

6 81

THE NINE O'CLOCK BOTTLE

Here we have a typical scene in Camp Traprock during the late
days of the Arctic-Indian-Summer. Bartholomew Dane, the Egypt-
ologist and Sausalito are busily engaged nursing the expeditionary
mascot, Toktok, a tiny bear-cub which was adopted by Ikik after
the demise of its parent. The picture can give no idea of the pains-
taking care which was lavished upon the little pet. As in the case
of many infants it was extremely difficult to find a food upon which
he would gain his orthodox ounce a day. Various forms of nourish-
ment were tried, the happy formula being finally found in a four-
ounce bottle administered every four hours, the meal consisting of
modified whale's-milk to which was added minute particles of
"wheat-whiskers," a cereal-diluent to the perfection of which Dr.
Traprock has devoted many years of study.

Ikik, to whom credit must be given for the capture of the cub,
was hopelessly ignorant of how it should be cared for. Her idea
was that common to most primitive mothers, namely, that the infant
should be immediately put upon a meat or fat diet. The result of
this treatment was loss of weight and incessant crying on the part
of Toktok. Fortunately the ship's library contained a copy of
Holt's "Care and Feeding of Infants," a book which Dr. Traprock
says he never feels safe without.

Both Dane and Sausalito are wearing the summer costumes which
are practically a necessity during the heated term. Dane's tropic
helmet with its deeply overhanging cornice undoubtedly saved him
from the dreaded snow-blindness which so fatally attacked his
companion Whinney. The attractive dress worn by Sausalito is
part of a wardrobe assembled by her as she passed through Canada
on her way to join the expedition. The fur-edged chemisette and
roll-down buskins are similar to the parade uniform of the O'Howese
Toboggan Club.

•••

The Nine O'Clock Bottle

MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE 85

"you have served me long and faithfully. The
reward of our efforts lies close at hand. Yonder,
I repeat, lies the Pole. Captain Triplett's last
observation shows that we are at 86° 13' 6
fifteen miles better than all previous records, Xan-
sen's, Steffanson's and Peary's excepted. We are
running ahead of schedule time. From now on
our progress will be slower. But, though we will
not be dragging light sledges over the ice, remember
that we carry our base of supplies with us. 'Tis
an arduous task, lads, but with fair weather and
good luck we'll win through yet!"

The cheer which greeted this announcement sur-
prised me by its feebleness. I had felt that I was
doing rather well. Plainly a number of voices
were silent. Puzzled and apprehensive I glanced
toward my men. Warburton Plock, oily and defer-
ential, stood slightly in advance of the others.

"Have you read your orders T' he asked.

"My orders:'' I replied, — "my orders from
whom?"

"Your sealed orders," he repeated, smiling
craftily, "the ones Waxman handed you when we
left."

I did not like his tone. I detested the familiar
way in which he spoke of the aged president of the

86 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Explorers Union. His manner was that of veiled
bravado. The air was highly charged as before a
coming storm.

"My brief-case . . . cabin . . . Swank. . . .
Fetch."

I was excited and spoke monosyllabically, but
Swank, like a faithful dog, disappeared at the word
"fetch" down the companion-way. In the interval
of his absence a thousand black thoughts whirled
through my brain. These mysterious orders, what
were they? A plot . . . something was afoot,
some deadly blow aimed to dash the cup of accom-
plishment from my grasp as I raised it to my lips.
To my credit I can say that, even in this agonizing
moment, I absolved Dr. Waxman of any share in
this dastardly work. I seemed to see his benevo-
lent sheep -like face smiling a good-bye, while be-
fore me, glowered Plock, palpably gloating at my
discomfiture. But orders were orders and duty was
duty. Traprock must be true! With a hand that
trembled in spite of my best efforts, I grasped the
brief case which Swank proffered and, turning it
so that all might see, I opened it.

It was empty!

I stood like a conjurer surprised by his own
trick.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 87

A threatening growl rose from the group huddled
about Plock who now came forward boldly, his face
distorted with passion. The mask was off.

"This is buncomb, Traprock," he shouted. "You
have done away with those orders! Where are
they? You know perfectly well that your instruc-
tions are to . . ."

What he was about to divulge will never be
known. Whipping up my left arm I caught his
heel with my right foot and the back of his head
struck the ice with a crack that roused the distant
pemmican to renewed screaming.*

"Stow that dunnage," I said quietly, and the
limp carcass was tossed aboard where it lolled
grotesquely over the hatch-combing.

"To your places, you others ..."

A slow, straining heave at the traces brought
the Kawa up on her guide-runners and she moved
gracefully across the ice.

Pondering mournfully on the strange turn of
events, wondering who could have purloined the
fateful packet, but taking care to show no exterior
sign of my perplexity, I trudged on, occasionally

* The trick is one I learned from an old limehouse "pug"
whom I befriended in the east-end of London. He could only show
me his gratitude by teaching me the secrets of his trade, which have
served me on many an occasion.

88 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

breaking the silence with a single word of command.
"Mush."

• ••••••

Day succeeded day, days scarcely marked by any
change, and yet there was no sign of the missing
document. The most rigid search was fruitless and,
gradually, the incident was forgotten.

So unbroken was the sunlight that it was only by
exercising great care in keeping our watches wound
that we were able to know definitely just what day
it was. As time wore on, confusion arose. Miskin
insisted that it was Wednesday, Swank held out for
Thursday and so on. But it mattered little. They
were all days of accomplishment and of glorious
Arctic summer, growing steadily hotter as we
climbed up the glacial coverlet. We were now
beyond the latitude of my previous "farthest" (87°
21' 22") which I had reached with the Royal
Geographic Expedition which met such a tragic
fate on its return trip to England.*

The insect pests began to be very troublesome
and I thanked the high Gods for the green veils and
mosquito-bars which made life tolerable. A part of

* The entire party on H.M.S. Daffodil, were sunk by a German
submarine off St. Jean deLuz. I escaped, having disembarked at
Brigus, N. F., in order to join my regiment at Derby, Conn.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 89

every man's equipment was an atomizer containing
four fluid ounces of oil-of-citronella, and a fly-swat-
ter attached to his wrist by a thong of reindeer
sinew.*

I was amazed at the tropic temperature of these
high latitudes. At noon the thermometer fre-
quently stood around 90° Fahr. in the shade and it
must be remembered that there was no shade. Our
thinnest garments were none too comfortable nor
were we able to say, as is usual, that the nights were
cool, for again it should be borne in mind that there
were no nights. Hour after hour the brazen disc
of the sun circled round the heavens, staring piti-
lessly at the moon which, strange phenomenon!
shone palely above the opposite horizon as if the
two great planets were balancing to partners in a
stately astronomical dance.

At definite periods sleep was the order of the

* The Arctic mosquito differs from his southern brothers, the com-
mon stegomia muflans, in that he does not strike and get away. Like
the Canadian "wingle," where he bites he burrows, and that with
such rapidity that one must be swift of stroke indeed who would
escape his attack. Within a few seconds he disappears beneath the
cuticle and dire illness is the result. It is not commonly known but
I am convinced that the Arctic variety is the carrier of the scurvy
germ, that dreaded terror of travellers. (See Windenborg's treatise
"Die Arbeiten Stegomanische und Fleibeiten von dem Nord-deutsches
Landes," which, while making many absurd claims as to German
supremacy in polar regions, contains at the same time much solid
information). T.

90 MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE

day. an enforced regulation. During our waking
hours we struggled on, at times wading through
mulch and squidge, at times sailing through seas of
melted ice. Yet, though the sun's rays were hot,
there still remained the solid pack below, too vast to
be more than touched on the surface by this fleeting
summer.

Though we were surrounded by animal life it
was much too warm for hunting. In fact the very
thought of such things as blubber and fur was
nauseating. Our civilized diet and clothing were
better suited to our stomachs both inside and out.
But how quickly the warm polar weather passed
none knew better than I and from my place in the
bow I urged my men on until even Swank and
Whinney cast reproachful glances at me over their
streaming shoulders.

"You aren't taking the Kawa to the Pole, she's
taking you," they complained.

"Mush," I replied.

A fact which was the cause of surprised comment
by several members of the expedition was that we
had thus far encountered no Eskimos on our
journey. I confess that I myself was somewhat
perplexed. In a country in which game abounded it
seemed strange to find no hunting parties. I could

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 91

account for this phenomenon by two courses of
reasoning; either the natives had gone south to
escape the intolerable weather which we were ex-
periencing— for it will be remembered that these
simple folk have practically no way of combating
heat — or their hunters might possibly have fallen
victims to the mistake so common to nimrods the
world over, of leading their bands into localities in
which there was no game whatever. Upon con-
sideration the latter conclusion seemed the more
probable for it follows a great general law of
humanity. Each of my readers doubtless numbers
among his acquaintance a sportsman who makes an
annual pilgrimage into inaccessible regions in
search of caribou, deer, salmon or big-horn and who
invariably returns with a tale of disappointment.
"It has been a very poor year for caribou." "There
was too little water — or too much." These excuses
are familiar to any one who holds converse with the
disciples of rifle and rod.

Our case was different. We were a scientific
group, not occupied with the capture of animal
trophies and so we naturally saw a great deal of
game.

It is difficult for me to set down the amazing
amount of interesting live stock which flourished

92 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

about us at every stage of our journey. In the
lower latitudes these were the more familiar cari-
bou, rabbits, wolves, and deer.

A sight I shall never forget was one which con-
fronted us shortly after clearing the westernmost
point of Wrangel Island. This was in the earlier
stages of our journey while we still enjoyed a few
hours of restful darkness. Through the murky
night I heard a low muttering sound with an oc-
casional note of complaint or discontent. The noise
was not single and distinct but vast and widespread
as if a large area of land had become vocal. "What
do you suppose is wrong?" I asked Triplett with
whom I was keeping watch. "There's alius some-
thin' wrong on Wrangel," said that worthy im-
perturbably. But I could see that he was interested
for he kept his good-eye alternately on our compass
and the dim bulk of land that loomed on our
quarter.

Dawn came on apace and a marvellous picture
lay before us. Far into the interior, or 'lie snowy
slopes, were millions of reindeer feeding on the
Christmas trees which do so well in this locality.
The noise I had heard was the swishing of great
branches and the guttural grunts of these pictur-
esque mammals as they devoured their provender.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 93

Others of my men had stolen on deck and stood
silently watching. Frissell was greatly excited.

"Who said there wasn't any Santa Claus!" he
cried, and at the sound of his voice the huge herd
tossed its broad-leaved antlers and rushed madly
toward the distant horizon while Frizzie urged them
on with cries of "Now, Vixen, now, Dasher!" It
was an odd but interesting scene.

The Arctic hares were not as numerous as I have
seen them on my previous northern trips and those
I observed through my glasses were of poor quality
and sickly physique. Evidently the gradual dying
out of the lapland lark-spurs, which are the natural
cover of the hares, has worked havoc among these
charming creatures.*

But now, beyond eighty-six, we had left behind
us these semi-domestic creatures and were among
the truly Arctic animals, those weird denizens of
berg and floe which civilization sees only in zoologi-
cal gardens or vaudeville performances. From my
station near the lore-peak I swept the horizon
hourly with my glasses cataloguing the myriad
species of Arctic life and entering them in my

* The ever-watchful Canadian game commission has taken up this
matter (which vitally affects the mitten industry) and is conducting
at the Govt. Laboratory in Ottawa a series of experiments with
various hare-restorers. W. E. T.

INTENSIVE OPTIMISM

As long as brave deeds are recognized and heroic fortitude re-
ceives its just due the name of Reginald Whinney will shine forth
in letters of gold. Reference is made in the text to his tragic attack
of snow-blindness on the very eve of the arrival of Dr. Traprock
(and party) at the Pole. This untoward visitation (by which we
mean Whinney's affliction, not the Traprock Expedition), would in
itself have been enough to break the heart of any ordinary man,
but not the heart of a Whinney. To such as he adversity is as the
sunshine to the flower or the flower to the bee, a new source of
inspiration and sweetness.

In the early days of his blindness he was, of course, greatly de-
pressed. "I am put out but not crushed" was his simple comment.
Having recourse to his typewriter he recorded that touching para-
phrase of Milton r.nding with the line, "They also serve who only
sit and type." Then came the magnificent "Ode to the Aurora,"
after which the sun of his vision seemed to burst through the walls of
his temporary night. Full of sparkling wit and joyous laughter he
fully earned his soubriquet of "Sunbeam-of-the-North." Even before
breakfast he was mirth personified; in the evening, he was irrepressi-
ble. The Eskimos found in him a source of inexhaustible wonder.
To a race living far beyond the sound of a songbird his carollings
were nothing short of a miracle.

Dr. Traprock has confessed that at times his friend's gaiety was
trying. During the frightful sufferings of the return journey, for
instance, it was upsetting to face starvation and death to the
accompaniment of "I love a lassie," warbled by the stricken scientist
from the forepeak. But as the Doctor acutely remarks, "How
unjust to condemn a man who was doing the only thing left for
him to do, namely, trying to cheer us up. Moreover I knew that his
optimism was but blind. Incessant cheerfulness, when sincere, is
impossible to stand; I can enjoy it when I know that it masks a
broken heart."

Intensive Optimism

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 97

journal with notes as to quantity, quality and other
attributes which had a bearing on the commercial or
scientific value of the type referred to. I can give
no better idea of this sportsman's paradise than by
quoting a few extracts from the volume.

For instance, under date of June 18th, I find the
following :

"June 18th. 86° 12' 5". Bright and fair. Going
good. For two hours in forenoon passed three
large seal schools, mainly phoca vitulina and
mitrata, probably about one thousand per school.
Each group lay taking its mid-day siesta near the
open lead with sentinel seals carefully posted at
regular intervals. They maintained this position
until we were within approx. 100 yds. when
they slid noiselessly into the sea where I watched
them at play for sometime, diving over and under
each other and emitting their throaty mating cry
of 'Ook, ook.' Peron says (See Mammi-feres,
Livraison, Sept., 1819, p. 2) that the phoca vitulina
are monogamous but close observation of a large
bull seal in the second group convinces me that he
is in error."

"June 20th. Slightly cooler, a blessed relief.
More seals today (Leopardina and Stemmatopus).
Passed one group at feeding time and watched

98 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

them chase the smaller otaries into shallow ice pools
where possession of the fish was disputed by large
flocks of pemmican. The smaller fragments, otary-
eyes, fins, etc., were in turn made-off with by snow-
buntings."

"June 21st. Climbed to main truck at noon and
found three pemmican eggs in crow's-nest. Must
have been laid during rest period. Left them for
observation and posted order on main and jigger
to leave nest strictly alone. Whales spouting to
leeward, evidently genus bone-head, in large
quantity. Memo. Report to United Corset Mfrs.
and Umbrella Makers." *

"June 28th. Showers. Vast quantities of seals
(Hirsutus) the true fur-bearing or sack seal.
Called the entire company before the mast and
warned them against shooting. Rough going today
over raftered ice. Made only six miles. Mother
pemmican sitting on crow's-nest. Polar bears be-
coming more numerous, also large numbers of white
foxes. Disturbed during rest period by snorting of

* Since his return to New York, Dr. Traprock has formulated a
bill to be introduced at the next session of Congress. The bill is
aimed directly at the Fordney tariff-schedule, which imposes the
highest duties on whale-bone since whales were first discovered.
This, according to Dr. Traprock, is accountable for the corsetless
flapperism of today. "The higher the whale-bone the lower the
corset," is his trenchant comment. — Ed.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 99

walruses. Memo. Look up sealing-wax, source of
supply, market, etc. Another week should see us
at the Pole! Hold fast and strike hard."

The reader can imagine with what difficulty T
restrained my companions from wholesale slaughter
of the thousands of friendly creatures among whom
we were making our slow but steady progress. We
were individually armed and equipped for any
event which might befall us, but many considera-
tions urged me to be firm in this regard and my
posted notices, "No hunting or fishing under
penalty of the law," were sternly enforced. Prima-
rily I wished to save time, knowing full well what
delay would be caused by the pursuit and what in-
convenience by the capture of any of the hulking
carcasses which surrounded us. Secondly I was
anxious to conserve ammunition for a time when
it might be needed. Our own food supply was
ample and it seemed wise to defer experiments with
eskimo diet until absolutely necessary.

How fortunate this caution proved will be re-
lated in its proper place. That we should ever be
thrown entirely upon our own resources naked and
stripped in this far land, seemed totally unlikely.
But who knows the design of an inscrutable pro-
vidence ! Not I, for one.

100 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Two days from the Pole a tragic misfortune be-
fell one of our little group, none other than my
faithful friend, Reginald Whinney.

He had come to me in the morning and asked for
a two hours leave from the traces to take up work
which he said was more scientific, namely, the study
of the snow alga? which blossomed about us in rare
profusion. As it was my custom to let my men out
of harness, two at a time, to pursue their various
specialties, I readily assented.

"Whinney, botanist and Dane, Egyptologist, on
leave" was the order of the day.

They departed in opposite directions. Scientists
in general avoid each other's company when mak-
ing discoveries and these were no exception. It
was the last Whinney saw of us for many weeks.

At seven-and-a-half-bells Dane came aboard
and went below to file his data. Eight-bells
sounded and still no Whinney. With my glasses I
scanned the expanse about us. Far away on our
starboard bow I glimpsed for an instant a moving
black speck, lost it in the quivering lens, found it
again and held it. Was it a bear? No, it was too
black. A seal? — too tall!

In an instant I had given the order, "Cease
mushing!"

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 101

"Swank, Wigmore, come with me. Triplett,
you are in command."

We were off in a trice. As we drew near the
distant figure I saw that it was indeed Whinney.
But what was he doing?

He was tottering about in vague circles like a
man distraught. Just as I came up to him he fell
forward on his knees with a despairing cry, cover-
ing his face with his hands. Gently holding him
by the wrists, I lifted him up ; his arms dropped to
his side and I knew the awful truth.

I mentioned, when Whinney left the ship, that
he would see no more of us for many weeks. It
was true, for though we could see him, the poor
fellow could not see us.

"Blind! Blind!" he shrieked, sinking down in
despair and beating his head against the ice.

Again we raised him and, soothing him as best I
could, I rubbed his inflamed lids with a sharp piece
of snow crust, a native cure in such cases. But we
were too late to effect a cure. Wearied by gazing
at the minute flower-forms of the algae, dazzled by
the glaring snow crystals, my friend's eyes had
fallen an easy prey to acute snow-blindness.

"Let this be a lesson to you, men," I said after
we had led our patient back to the ship. "If any

102 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

man. in the future., leaves this deck without his
goggles, let him take the consequences. This ex-
pedition cannot be allowed to develop into a game
of blind mans buff."

Whinney sat whimpering on the port rai..
pathetic sight. Though I spoke sternly I could
but grieve in my heart for the tragic irony of his
fate.

Many brave adventurers have struggled and died
in vain efforts to reach the top of the world. To
Reginald Whinnev remains the sad distinction of
being the onlv man in the world who has been to the
Xorth Pole and back without seeing it !

Chapter V

The last ten miles. A mental observation. We
lose our magnetic bow-sprit. The Big Peg at
last! "The Lady, first!" We celebrate our
arrival. I glimpse a vision.

103

Chapter V

July fourth, 1921.

"Eighty-nine and two tenths!" said Capt.
Triplett.

"Eighty-nine and two tenths," echoed Miskin,
jotting down the figures.

Our navigator lowered the astrolabe through
which he had been peering and folded up his artifi-
cial horizon. He then figured for a few moments
on the edge of the tafTrail, scrupulously erasing the
calculation with a combination of saliva and sleeve
before he announced in his usual formula:

"She proves. Key-rect as hell."

I piped down the engines and ordered the com-
pany abaft. We were working through an open
lead at the time.

The moment had come for another important
announcement. These were of almost daily oc-
currence at this time, each stage of our journey
having been marked by the establishment of a

105

THE AVOWAL

It was not to be expected that the temperamental Swank would
long remain proof against the attractions of the beguiling Klinka
maidens and here we have evidence of him running true to form, the
form in this case being that of Kliptok, the youngest of the Mrs.
Makuiks. The scene is the sub-polar apartment of the Kryptok
hunter, hewn from the ageless ice.

Obviously a tender passage is in progress. The jaunty Swank,
holding in his hand a bunch of lapland-larkspurs, which, it should
be remarked, were completely out of season at the time, is not only
saying it with flowers but with all the practised ardor of a grade
A Romeo.

"You are the sweetest thing in the world," he whispers. "I have
never met anyone like you in all my life."

The child hears and believes.

"You are so original!" she murmurs, bending her seal-like ear.

"And you so aboriginal!"

"More!" she sighs passionately.

"Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?"

At this point, due to the rising temperature, great drops of water
began to fall from the ice-roof and a harsh command from Makuik
drove the lovers into the open air.

In justice to Mr. Swank it should be stated that all wife-wooing
was conducted with the full knowledge and consent of the husband.
Makuik's ulterior motive, doubtless, was to secure additional hunters
for his tribe. Alas, for Swank's romantically planned honeymoon,
it was doomed to end as so many do, in disappointment.

The Avowal

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 109

record for ship travel. It had therefore become my
custom to call the men together as soon as our posi-
tion had been officially announced, at which time we
held a sort of business "causerie," chatted over what
had been accomplished, discussed the future plans
and policy of the expedition and so on, much as is
done today in business organizations whose lack of
business gives them ample time for such recreations.

Today, more than ever, I felt the responsibility
of my position. Having gained in assurance and
poise by reason of experience at previous meetings,
my words were terse and well-chosen.

"Men," I said, "and lady" (bowing to Sausalito,
who waved a tennis shoe at me), "the end is well
nigh come. The goal for which we have labored is
almost in sight. The Pole, reputed inaccessible, is
at hand. No longer the interminable leagues in-
tervene. No longer do the long miles stretch be-
tween us and our object. We have annihilated space
—and time!" (Cries of "Hear, Hear!")

"Men of the Traprock Expedition, tried, true
and trusty Traprockians, we have almost completed
our journey, we are nearly there, the long-
sought "

A tremendous cheer interrupted me. My com-
panions were unable to control themselves, and my

110 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

oratorical intuition told me that it was the moment
to stop.

With a sweeping gesture toward the North, I
shouted the magic monosyllable "Mush!" and sat
down.

In polar travel the last ten miles are invariably
the hardest. One is spent and exhausted. Ice con-
ditions north of eighty-seven are increasingly dif-
ficult. Absolutely nothing has been done by either
Canadian or United States Governments toward
keeping the national highways in condition.
Raftered floes, composed of sheets of twenty-foot
ice, piled up like badly shuffled playing cards, often
directly oppose one's progress.*

But all things yield to an iron will. We had not
come thus far to be thwarted and our nearness to
success roused me to feverish energy. As I look
back on that last day I am amazed at some of the
things we did.

It has never been my habit to dodge a difficulty
and true to this principle we made straight at every
barrier. There was no dodging or deviating. Some
we climbed, some we tunneled (the Kawa's masts

* The only highway comparable to the above, in my experience,
is the main street of Portchester, N. Y., which has been torn up
since the memory of man. Some of the rocks in the middle of this
thoroughfare are of volcanic origin. The detours are even worse.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 111

folded back along her deck), some we blew up,
though I hesitated to resort to this process for the
practical reason of wishing to save my ice bombs,
and the more sentimental dislike of breaking the
rustic silence of the North with a sound so ex-
traneous and artificial as that of blasting.

The northern silence has always seemed so pure
and chaste that the thought of shattering it was
extremely repugnant. It was like violating a
virgin. It was, however, necessary to do this at
times.*

Toiling, sweating, cursing, singing and shouting
with excitement, we fought our way foot by foot,
mile by mile, over the rough ice-cap.

It was marvellous to see how the Kawa behaved,
how magnificently her pliant flanks adapted them-
selves to the jagged contours, how intelligently
and naturally she oozed over and between difficul-
ties, pressed in here, bulging out there, svelte, seal-
like and delicious.

My office was that of general exhorter and en-
courager. It would never have done for me to

*The explosive used is a development of Whinney's along sug-
gestions made by me. I am not at liberty to give the chemical
formula, but its lines of force are bi-lateral instead of perpendicular
as is the case with lyddite and the other nitroglycerine derivatives.
To any one especially interested in ice blasting I shall be pleased to
furnish additional information. W. E. T.

112 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

take the lines and do any actual pulling; the men
would have lost respect for me at once. But I was
never idle for a moment. Armed with an old riding
crop, a relic of my days as M.F.H. of the Derby
Hounds, I circled about my straining comrades,
shouting encouragement and occasionally flicking
them smartly on back and buttock. They re-
sponded valiantly, though not a few black looks
were thrown at me.

At the top of every ice hurdle we stopped to rest
and I issued extra rations of alcohol plug. It was
little enough to repay these gallant chaps for their
exertions and surely this was no time to play the
niggard with the "A-P" as we called it. Once re-
freshed, and the ice slide ready, we coasted down
the northward incline and spun merrily across the
level floe.

Late in the day, I called a halt. My comrades,
somewhat exhausted by their exertions and a little
affected, perhaps, by my generous distributions of
A-P, sank on the ice near their traces or crawled up
on the Kawa's soft counter and fell asleep.

I was glad of their unconsciousness for I was
very much excited. We must be nearly there!

Before us rose a gentle snow eminence, the merest
swelling in the white plain, such as would be called

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 113

a mountain in the middle west.* Beyond this,
unless I was mistaken, lay the Pole.

"Triplett," I said excitedly, "can you make a
quick observation?"

"Sure," he observed. One glance at the low hang-
ing sun was enough for my old navigator. Rolling
back his eyes he looked for a moment into that
reliable brain of his. I saw that he was taking a
mental observation! Marvellous man! In breath-
less silence, I waited.

"Eighty-nine and — nine tenths," he whispered.
Sweat stood out on his forehead and rolled in little
rivers through his corrugations. This sort of thing
was plainly exhausting.

Quickly handing him an emergency plug I rose.

At that moment Warburton Plock came toward
me. Though I disliked him more than ever, he had
been deferential and polite since I had faced him
down in his silly fuss over my orders, so that I
listened attentively while he spoke.

"Doctor, with your permission I'm going to un-
ship the magnetic bowsprit and set it here as a bea-
con. We must be way above the Magnetic North

* The lowest mountain in the world is Mt. Clemens, Mich., which
has an altitude of 6 ft. above lake level. I once climbed it on
crutches. W. E. T.

8

114 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

by now and it is pulling us backward instead of
forward."

''Very good," I answered. "Your idea has
merit."

He touched his cap pleasantly and went forward.
I liked the idea of leaving a beacon or cairn. It is
the proper thing among explorers. Here and there
we had run across them, an occasional pile of snow,
topped by a gin bottle enclosing a message from
some previous expedition, empty containers of
various sorts whose labels were mute memorials to
the achievement of the great white race! Walker,
Haig and Booth, imperishable names these, with a
solemn splendor when found on the white register
of the North.

I watched the work with interest. Plock and
Miskin were busy at the bow-chains, Swank, Wig-
more and Frissell prepared the site, hewing out
rude blocks with their ice picks, while Sausalito
cackled encouragement. She was knitting a slip-on
of reindeer yarn.

Suddenly a shout of dismay rose from under our
forefoot. I saw Plock and Miskin struggling with
the bowsprit. Evidently they had completely mis-
calculated the strength of the magnetic pull.

"Help!" cried Plock.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 115

I sprang forward, even as the others threw down
their picks and dashed toward the bow.

We were too late.

Jammed against the side of the ship, his hands
torn and bleeding Miskin was forced to relinquish
his grasp. With but the weight of Plock at its butt
end the long pole shot off at an angle across the
ice.

"Leave it go!" I ordered.

But Plock was too dazed, too enraged to hear me.
Fortunately at a distance of two hundred yards his
head struck a ridge of ice and he keeled over.

Free of all hindrance, the steel stick bounded off
with amazing rapidity, leaving a faint trail, straight
and true to the Magnetic North. I watched it
through my glasses until it disappeared over the
horizon to the southwest, — and there it is today, for
all to see who visit those strange regions, a record
of the Traprock Expedition placed there by a power
more mysterious and greater than that of human
hands.

Plock was gathered up and the company once
more assembled.

This time I wasted no words. "Men, we are
there. Beyond yonder eminence is the Pole. Ten
minutes, twenty at most, and then — rest!"

ABOUT TO BE CAPTURED

This picture represents what is probably the high-spot in Dr.
Traprock's absorbing narrative, namely, the moment just before the
author and his friend Swank burst from their hiding-places and
captured Ikik, the Klinka maid, who is seen crouching over the bait
which in this case was the scarlet hunting-coat worn by Dr. Trap-
rock during many an exciting chase, though none, we venture to say,
compared to this. Critics of this picture have said that the coat
seemed unnecessarily voluminous. In explanation it may interest
our readers to know that at meetings of the Derby Hounds, which
organization takes its origin from the ancient Epsom Hunts of
England, the M. F. H. wears the medieval hunting costume, the folds
of which cover the rider, horse and at times several of the hounds
as well. The thought of our intrepid friend Traprock thus clad
in full cry suggests an inspiring sight. He says himself with his
usual modesty, "The coat has always attracted women, but I have
usually been in it."

Better than words our illustration, snapped by Swank through the
eye of "Dr. Pease," gives an idea of the simple beauty of the Klinka
summer-furs. Though she has thrown aside her oomiak she is plainly
apprehensive. Something is in the air, she knows not what.

It was Dr. Traprock's intention to capture the maid as politely
as was consistent with success. After the diving-tackle which he has
described he had expected to deliver a conciliatory speech beginning,
"Madame, I assure you my intentions are perfectly honorable."
Makuik's arrival interrupted this program but we feel that in justice
to Dr. Traprock his plan should be known lest some of our readers
assume that he was unnecessarily rough. In the old Norman,
"Chroniques de la Noblisse," we find significant note referring to
Jean Marie Piegeroche, an early ancestor of the author. Says the
historian, "Fort comme la mort, beau comme le soleil, et toujour
rosse tnais pas trop rosse." "Strong as death! Beautiful as the sun,
rough . . . but not too rough." It is indeed the Doctor.

About to be Captured

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 119

With hearty good will they sprang to their po-
sitions and we shot forward up the gentle grade.

Exactly twelve minutes later we reached the crest
and below us, sparkling in the sunlight, stood the
Pole itself.

How can I possibly describe the scene and the
sensations of that inspiring moment? Physically
the outlook was perhaps unimportant save for a
feature that set my blood tingling while it stilled
my heart in reverence. This feature was Peary's
cairn !

It was untouched, unchanged.

From the moment the object of the Traprock
Expedition was announced I had been haunted by a
vague fear that some other group would head
straight for my goal, dragging with them some
hapenny-tuppenny ships model wherewith to wither
my laurels.

It was not so.

Before us, a few hundred yards distant in the
center of a shallow bowl stood the rude monu-
ment of the great Commander, just as he had left it.
From the summit and flanks of the miniature
mountain fluttered the tattered ensigns he had

120 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

placed there, our country's flag, the red cross, the
D.K.E. banner and the others.

The Stars and Stripes were nailed to a stout spar,
evidently an extra yard-arm or spare jigger from
the Roosevelt. This mast still stood, a graphic
symbol of the Pole itself, as if the giant axis of the
earth projected beyond its surface. It was slightly
out of plumb and the wood toward the base was
somewhat abraded.

But of the vandalism of late visitants there was
not a trace. No picnic baskets or discarded lily-
cups marred the snowy surroundings. No other
ship, great or small, had made fast to Mother
Earth's last mooring.

We rushed toward the spot in helter skelter
fashion, but ten yards from the cairn a thought,
almost morbid in its chivalrousness, seized me.

I must stop this mad rush.

How?

Whipping out my Colt I fired three shots in
quick succession. It was the return-to-the-ship
signal. The crowd hesitated, irresolute.

On the instant I dashed ahead and faced about.

"Gentlemen," I cried, "though thousands of miles
from home, remember, you are gentlemen. The
lady, first!"

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 121

Offering Sausalito my arm we climbed the slope
together.

The others arrived en masse. Swank, Plock,
Sloff, they were all like children playing a game of
prisoner's base, with the Pole as home. Poor
Whinney was "it."

In the excitement of the moment I had forgotten
him. He was a pitiful spectacle as he came tap-
tapping his way across the ice, feeling each step with
his cane. We watched him in silence until I saw
that he was going to miss the Pole entirely and if
not stopped would soon be bound south again for an
indefinite period. Tenderly Sausalito and I led
him to the cairn while her rich voice murmured
comfort in his ear. He was beside himself with
emotion and hot tears kept welling from under his
goggles.

"The touch of a woman's hand!" he sobbed, as he
smoothed mine with his.

Frissell's arrival was characteristic. He made
the last sixty yards between the Kawa and the Pole
on a pogo stick — a new — in fact the only — record
for an event of this kind.

Second only to ourselves was the Kawa and will-
ing hands soon hauled her across the intervening
distance and made her fast.

122 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

The great objective of my polar push had been
gained and with a reverent heart I called the men
together for short but appropriate ceremonies.

After a prayer of thanksgiving b)r Miskin, we
sang as much of the Star Spangled Banner as we
could remember and ate a silent toast to the memory
of great explorers who had come and gone. I then
made a few appropriate remarks, outlining the
progress of polar travel from Norse days down to
the present and we then proceeded to the pictur-
esque "planting of the flags." It was a charming
picture in the amber sunlight, not unlike the final
chorus of some great operatic spectacle in which the
nations of the earth are gathered together.

Forming in a circle we marched slowly about the
cairn singing the ancient song: "Nordenskold —
Nordenskold — helvig am trein," each man planting
his flag at the close of a verse, in the order named :

Traprock, U.S.A., Swank, Sons of American
Revolution; Whinney, Guidon of the Derby Fen-
cibles (sometimes called the "Desperate Derbies") ;
Sausalito, Lucy Stone League; Frissell, Dutch
Treat Club of New York; Plock, Explorers
Union; Miskin, National Geographic Society;
Triplett, New Bedford Chamber of Commerce;
Sloff, Ass. Astronomers of America; Wigmore,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 123

Society for the Preservation of New England An-
tiquities; Dane, Egypt.

With the cairn thus gaily decorated and the
Kawa's full alphabet of signal flags flying fore and
aft spelling the word "Victory," the formal cere-
monies were over and I gave the order for complete
rest, relaxation and enjoyment.

How thoroughly these instructions were carried
out may well be imagined. Three days' rations of
every sort were dragged from the hold and spread
about us. Without further urging all hands fell to.
Every man had five A-P's and a bountiful supply
of potted ham, herring and salt codfish.* This
somewhat arid diet was washed down with copious
draughts of melted snow thickened with A-P, and
the celebration soon attained a terrific muzzle
velocity. Songs echoed across the surrounding
plain, merry tales were passed about, tales which
brought a dull glow to Sausalito's cheeks and
caused old Triplett to slap his thigh with delight.

Frissell was a host in himself. He performed
tricks of magic, imitations and feats of acrobatics

* These compact and easily carried food stuffs formed a large
part of our store. With the addition of a little water they increase
greatly in bulk and nutritive value. The idea came to me when
stranded for two weeks in the Dry Tortugas, during which time I
lived entirely on an old carriage sponge which I found on the
beach. W. E. T.

124 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

and ventriloquism, appearing successively in various
costumes from his inexhaustible supply. The quiet
Miskin disclosed an unsuspected social gift and
lured us into guessing games.

"What is the distance from Bremen to Hong
Kong?"

We were staggered. Miskin, from the store of
his librarian experience, knew the answer. It was
dull, but helped to keep the others sober for a few
extra hours.

The three days' rations lasted, I think, about one
full 2 4 -hour day.

A single unpleasant incident marred the close of
the entertainment.

Plock, who was enormously exhilarated, crawled
toward me and pointed toward the D.K.E. flag
above us.

"D.K.E. song," he said thickly.

I eyed him coldly.

"I can only sing it with a Brother."

To my disgust he stretched out a very dirty hand,
and gave me the grip!

"Mew Chapter," he murmured.

It was revolting. That it should be Plock of all
others !

We did the "Band of Brothers" together — my

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 125

oath compelled it — but I have never voiced its lov-
ing sentiments so half-heartedly.

Quiet fell at last. So did most of my com-
panions. One by one they toppled over. Whinney
was the last to go. It is said that the loss of one
function strengthens another and I suppose that
the absence of eyesight gave him staying power.
But he finally succumbed, smiling happily and
crooning to himself — "I don't no' whish is, m' I
blin'-drunk or drunk-blin' "; and he was gone.

My last memory is of Frissell saying "my next
imitation" and then playing "taps" on a mouth
organ. I knew the impossibility of competing with
a parlor entertainer. Nothing will quiet such chaps
but a dead audience. So I rolled over, and slept
the sleep of a tired but happy explorer.

What awakened me I cannot say, but I am sure
that it was something unusual, for my awakening
was not gradual or difficult. It was the same quick
instant leap to consciousness as that which rouses
the suburban wife when she leans across the interim
between the twin beds and whispers tensely to her
husband, "Horace, someone is trying to get into
the dining-room window!"

SOMETHING NEW IN DRAMATICS

A happy thought in the formation of the personnel of the Expedi-
tion was the inclusion of Frissell, the professional entertainer, who
i6 here shown playing a leading part in the amateur theatricals
which it was his delight to organize. The scene chosen for illus-
tration is the famous shipping episode from "The Taming of the
Shrew." Reginald Swank, who is no mean dramatic critic, tells us
that Frissell's "Petruchio" was a spirited performance, while Snak's
"Katharine" rivalled Ada Rehan at her best. The nautical back-
ground added a novel touch to the somewhat hackneyed vehicle
and it is safe to say that Shakespeare is permanently established
among the Klinka and Kryptok tribes.

Not content with the success of this production, Frissell plans to
bring to Broadway a newly organized company, "The Polar
Players." They will appear in repertoire while the B and C com-
panies tour the provinces. The Winter Garden has already been
engaged for the venture, Al Jolson obligingly shifting to the
Metropolitan Opera House. Tickets for the premiere of this inter-
esting novelty, which is set for November 1st, may be had by appli-
cation to any of the well known speculators. Mr. Frissell has
already shown photographs of some of his best scenes to prominent
professional critics. A few sample opinions may be of interest.

George Jean Nathan: "Foreign and therefore good."

Hey wood Broun: "Lacking in background; we like it."

Al Woods: "Niftik."

Dorothy Parker: "I hate actors, but these people are different."

Frederick O'Brien: "Taupo aloha che."

The Literary Digest: "Better than the average and more average
than the best."

David Belasco: "All to the spot-light."

Bernard Shaw: "They go further back than Methusaleh."

Something New in Dramatics

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 129

I suddenly found myself sitting bolt upright,
straining my ears through the lightness.

What was it?

What uncanny influence had snatched me bodily
out of the depths of stupor?

All about me lay my companions. I counted
them dazedly. Triplett, Sausalito, Swank, — yes,
they were all there, not one missing.

"It was nothing" I thought, and stretched my-
self, preparatory to replacing my aching head in its
original position.

And then my hair literally rose on that same head
and a creeping chill crept up my spine.

Close at hand, just back of me, rose a soft, ex-
quisite, purling sound, the sound of a woman's
laughter! Whirling about I caught a fleeting
glimpse of her.

It was just a flash. She was peering over the
edge of the cairn. The instant my eyes met hers I
knew that I had seen the most beautiful woman in
the world!

Leaping silently to my feet, for I did not wish
to waken my comrades, I raced toward the cairn.
As I rounded the curve I heard again that silvery
laughter, spiced, I thought, with a note of mockery.

"One second, my beauty!" I muttered, "and I

130 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

shall have you !" Remember, I had been for months
in the solitudes. My blood pounded in my temples.

Sweeping gracefully around the cairn I arrived
on the opposite side.

Desolate and empty, the ice bowl curved to its
rim.

Not a living soul was in sight.

Chapter VI

Fatal 'procrastination. Our one-dimensional po-
sition. An extraordinary ornithological display.
I confide in Swank. His plan. I capture
my vision. The Klinkas. An embarrassing
incident.

131

Chapter VI

The succeeding days were occupied with the
business of getting settled. Our eight-day clock
recorded July 7th before we finally got down to
work. By throwing up a waist-high wall around
the base of the cairn we formed a circular dugout
into which we moved our belongings, a man to each
segment. Already the weather had begun to mod-
erate and I found my medium-longs comfortable.

Sections of our camp were covered with tar-
paulins and of course we had the Kawa to retire to
in case of need. A passing shower warned me that
the short Arctic summer was waning but I figured
that we had ample time to remain at least three
weeks longer. We had but begun our scientific
work, our food supply was generously sufficient,
and moreover, my men had come a long way and
were entitled to a rest.

Ah! How vainly does the mind of man delude
itself with false reasoning. Back in my brain nib-

133

134 MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE

bled the maggot of curiosity. Deep in my man-be-
ing the age-old impulse lusted for a sight of the
mysterious ice-maiden. Like the old viking in the
Saga — "Moe entilgig sas, moe Tillig as var — "*
I would have procrastinated forever. As it was my
delay . . . but I am now getting south of myself.

Speaking of "getting south" we were in a curious
position, one previously remarked on, but which has
received scant attention. I refer to the fact that
there was left to us but one direction. We had no-
where to go but south. The idea seemed so fan-
tastic that I verified it by actual test. The empiric
is after all the only actual, as Spencer says. Stand-
ing close together four of us were able to touch
the Pole with our backs. At a signal we all stepped
forward five paces.

We had all gone south !

And yet, Triplett and I had gone in exactly op-
posite directions: so had Whinney and Wigmore
who were assistants.

There are some things that are beyond the mind
of man. Whinney said that it was very simple. He
explained that since it was already possible, in a

* Literally. "When the wine of his love
Is the grave of his wit."
See "The Song of Beer-wolf," trans, by Ola Ramberg.

MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE 135

three dimensional world, to reduce motion to one
direction (which is the equivalent of one dimension)
he was sure that further research would show us the
way to arrive at a point in which there would be no
direction at all.

"How would you get back?" I asked.

Although nonplussed he started in on a wordy
explanation in the midst of which I sneaked softly
away, leaving him still talking under the impres-
sion that I was at his side.

My unfortunate friend had taken up writing to
mitigate his black loneliness and the click of his
typewriter could be heard at any time. He was
writing a description of our voyage and it sur-
prised me to see how much clearer and more inter-
esting his account became after his eyes were
stricken and he was obliged to rely for information
on what was told him rather than on what he had
seen. It has long been a theory of mine that too
much actual experience makes a man inarticulate,
while the reverse is stimulating and beneficial.* A
realization of the devastating dullness of most polar
accounts has further confirmed this view.

In the meantime our serious work was progress-

* Puvis de Bloue says, in his "Voyages Blageux" (Flammarion ed.,
1918) "les yeux sont l'enemie de la verite."

AFTER THE BATH

No libel has received wider acceptance than the often made state-
ment that the Eskimos are an uncleanly people. It is true that
during the winter season the skin is protected by frequent applica-
tions of various animal-oils such as seal, walrus, otary, sperm and
pemmican. Only thus could the skin be protected against the rigors
of the Polar winter. The usual specification employed by the
Klinka tribe is as follows: (1) One (1) coat of otary oil thoroughly
brushed in. When this has dried apply (2) one (1) coat of Makuik-
mixture (1/3 otary to 2/3 whale, sperm or equal), applied
hot with a soft tundra sponge or seal-flipper; (3) two (2) coats
grade A pemmican, applied separately; (4) finish coat of walrus-
oil rubbed to a high polish. Fastidious individuals frequently add a
coat of guppy-wax which results in a soft lustrous surface. By
this method the entire body is hermetically sealed (just as our New
England forebears used to seal their preserves and jams with
paraffin) and the skin is kept immaculately clean.

As soon, however, as the Spring sun has ameliorated the low tem-
perature the native feels that it is time to slough his oily protec-
tion. Nature demands that his pores come up for air. This is
accomplished by exposure to the sun's rays. The wax and sub-
strata rapidly liquefy and are easily scraped-off with curved bone
knives admirably adapted to the work in hand. The natives assist
each other. One of the pleasantest experiences of Dr. Traprock
and his men was that of watching a lovely Klinka scraping an ac-
quaintance, aided by the friendly suggestions of her companions.

When the final oil-coat is removed and all pores are wide open the
body is rolled in clean snow and rubbed vigorously with a dried
salmon-fin.

The adjacent photograph shows little Kopek returning in his
mother's oomiak after his Spring scouring. The snowy whiteness
of his tender skin is ample proof of the hygienic wisdom of the
Klinka method.

Note the iglootinous character of the background. The perforated
mounds are really hives, the winter quarters of the Poks or Arctic
snow-bees which lay blue honey in large quantities from June to
September.

M

MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE 139

ing. My plan was to keep one of the men with me,
giving the others freedom to pursue their respective
lines of research. This made it possible for me to
be at home most of the time and so not miss any
recurrence of the feminine phenomenon I had
noted.

After a comfortable breakfast my followers de-
parted in various directions, each carrying his
luncheon which Sausalito put up for him. She, by
the way, had become the uncrowned queen of all
hearts and I felt more than justified in having ac-
ceeded to Triplett's sinful wishes.

Plock found it difficult to make any headway
with his anthropology because he could discover no
inhabitants. Up to July 20th, he kept entering
regularly in his journal: "Density of population
1 316 to square mile."

*'It hardlv seems enough." said Frissell brightlv.

Plock gave him a sour look.

"T was not speaking of mental density," he said.

In zoology he was more successful, though he
complained bitterly that my "no hunting"' edict
cramped his style.

'You can't study life without taking it," he said.

I thought he was referring to the magazine.

"My family have been taking it since Vol. 1, Xo.

140 MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE

1," I retorted, "and you know perfectly well it has
always been anti-vivisection."

'"Who said anything about vivisection?" he de-
manded, "though for that matter, that's just one
of Life's kinks, something that was wished on 'em
in a will. Let me kill a few animals first, and I'll
cut 'em up, and maybe eat 'em afterward!"

He licked his lips greedily. In him, too, dormant
appetites were stirring, the blood thirst of the tiger!
Strange irony, that he should be the first to go.

Xevertheless he brought in some interesting live
specimens caught with ingenious snares and traps,
among other things numerous birds, ptarmigan,
pelican and pemmican and a pair of polar kittens,
the young of the Felis-polaris, those quaint cats
which always point toward the north.* These
charming creatures soon became our pets and took
avidly to the condensed milk which Sausalito pre-
pared for them.

The pair of nesting pemmican who had pre-
empted our crow's nest were a source of constant

* A variant of the always interesting skunk family, distinguished
by the constant orientation of its physical peculiarity. It is per-
fectly safe to capture these little fellows from the south. The Arctic
type has been found as far south as Lake Wayagamac.
' (See ''Among the Moufette.'7 J. Pell, Col. Coll., N'.Y.) The pair
captured by Plock had been nullified by the usual method. Author.

MY XORTHERX EXPOSURE 141

interest. Three magnificent eggs about the size of
footballs were jealously watched day and night.
Plock informed us that the young birds might hatch
any day now and warned us to be ready for inter-
esting developments. Though I believed him I
was unprepared for anything as novel as what
took place.

Fortunately the event transpired on a Sunday
— July 23rd to be exact — which was a day of rest.
We had just finished divine service when Plock
pointed excitedly toward the main truck.

"She's going to hatch!" he yelled.

The mother bird had risen from the nest. Be-
tween her powerful legs she clutched one of the
perfect ovates. Circling the Kawa three times she
uttered a piercing shriek and dropped the egg.

"Key-ryste!" ejaculated Triplett.

Plock motioned for silence.

The egg struck the floe with a deep boom off
our weather lee and a dense cloud of bright orange
smoke filled the air in the midst of which we saw
the fledgling pemmican in full flight, rising to join
its mother. The male or bull pemmican now added
himself to the party and together they made off
to the edge of the ice bowl where the young one
alighted.

142 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

"Stand back," warned Plock. "Cover up your
noses."

The saffron laying fumes were drifting toward
us, and their odor was overpowering and indescrib-
able. Even as I crouched behind our bulwarks I
thought of my old friend Lucien Sentent, the nasal
gourmet of Battambang and wished he were with
us. He could have had my share!

Three times this curious phenomenon was re-
peated and though vastly diverted we were glad
when it was over.

Along other lines, Miskin covered a large num-
ber of cardboards with maps. He was preparing
a folio, "The Pole and its Environs," he called it.
A difficulty was that of locating any other point in
relation to the Pole. Triplett's science could go
no further than it had.

"Son," he said to Miskin, who had been anxiously
asking which direction New York was. "Son, I
kin tell yer where we be, but not where we ain't."

So Miskin tried the effect of the Pole in various
positions on the sheets and said he would fill in the
details later.

Swank got some excellent photographs using
Whinney's camera, some of which are reproduced
with this book. The views from the Pole itself were

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 143

particularly interesting, but his best results were
to come later.

Wigmore kept adding to his collection of snow
crystals and alga? which he packed carefully in
cracked ice, while Whinney, even in his darkened
condition found it possible to tinker with his radio
outfit. Sloff helped him rig his antenna? to the
Pole itself and we began to get messages with
increasing clarity.

Thus it will be seen that all our little band were
busy and that not an hour was wasted.

But deep in my heart lurked a determination to
see again my lady of mystery. As the days length-
ened to weeks without my having made any prog-
ress I at last confided in Swank.

He was incredulous but logical and infinitely
woman-wise.

"You were cuckoo," he said. "But if you
weren't, the only way to get her is to rouse her
curiosity. Then grab her."

"How?" I asked.

He pondered a moment before replying.

"See those snow men?"

I nodded. Frissell had occupied his valuable
time carving effigies for what he called his "Hall
of Ill-fame, or Northern Musee of the World's

144 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Worst Worms." — Volstead, Anderson, Dr. Pease,
John Roach Straton, Anthony Comstock and
others. While I deprecated "his taste I had no
suspicion how thankful I should be for its results.

"Here's the idea," Swank continued. "Get
everybody else out of the way for a whole day, see ?
Then plant a decoy over on the other side of the
cairn where you saw the woman; something bright
and snappy in color."

"My old hunting coat!" I suggested.

"Just the thing. Then you and I creep into a
couple of Frizzie's masterpieces, poke out their
prune-stone eyes and watch."

"Swank!" I cried, grasping his hand, "you are
a genius."

He shrugged his shoulders modestly.

"In more ways than one," he conceded.

The plan was simple of execution. My only
problem was Whinney, Sausalito and Triplett who
commonly stuck around home. This I solved by
sending Sausalito off for a day's picnic with Whin-
ney so that the Captain followed, as a matter of
course. Since Reginald had been unable to see
Sausalito and only heard her vibrant voice, he had
become dangerously fond of her, a fact which Trip-
let's one eye was quick to notice. They, therefore,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 145

departed, Sausalito leading Whinney with Triplett
trailing. The others had gone long ago. Swank
and I at once began our preparations.

Twenty feet from the foot of the cairn I spread
my M.F.H. coat on the snow. Its vivid scarlet
with the Derby brown collar and turn-back cuffs
made a vivid spot amid the surrounding whiteness.
Swank meanwhile was burrowing into the back of
Dr. Pease. A moment later I was enclosed in
Volstead, a disguise which I had never thought to
assume. The air was suffocating inside and to
fortify myself I nibbled a fragment of A-P with
ironic appreciation of the contrast between the
outer man and the inner. Swank, not to be out-
done, solaced himself with a smoke which must
surely have irked the cold semblance of the arch
anti-cigarettist. But I hissed a warning and the
blue smoke spiral ceased.

From then on we waited. The time was inter-
minable. It was probably not more than thirty
minutes, but it seemed hours. My A-P was
exhausted and I began to think of quitting.

Then, with a suddenness that nearly caused me
to fall through Volstead 's abdomen, things began
to happen. I glanced at Dr. Pease; he was trem-
bling slightly, or maybe it was my own excitement.

DINNER IS SERVED

The closeness of primitive man to the abysmal brute is strik-
ingly illustrated in the accompanying photograph. Makuik at meal-
time must surely remind the reader of the Bronx Park Zoo at that
time which the poet beautifully describes:

"Between the dark and the daylight,
When the lions release their lung-power,
Comes a pause in the day's occupation
Which is known as the feeding-hour."

Eskimo diet varies with the season. During the long winter it
consists mainly of the fatty overcoats worn by seal, walrus and
otary. Another favorite plate is made, en casserole, with alternate
layers of whale-blubber and seal-flippers. The result tastes very
much like stewed tennis-shoes. These wobbly dishes, garnished with
seal-eyes, are served on squares of hide and are scraped-up with
flippers or guppy-fins. Both hide and flipper are eaten at the close
of the meal which eliminates the tedious dish-washing, wiping and
putting-away of so-called civilized housekeeping. These blubber-
ous foods supply tbe calories (about 2000 to the square inch) neces-
sary to combat the absurd temperature of the winter season.

When the sun re-appears in the spring and the song of the first
lapwing is heard, the Eskimo begins to think intently of raw meat.
"Ukuk inatok tomatok," he mutters to himself. "I must have some
vitamines."

The scent of a bear two miles to windward crazes the native hunts-
man and speedily sets him to sharpening his spears and knives to
razor-keenness. Yet so strict is his observance of Kryptok law
that when a kill has been made he will touch no morsel until the
meat has been divided according to the custom, for the chief the
sirloins and porterhouses, for the lesser men the second and third
joints and for the women the ribs, rump, neck and feet or whatever
else is left.

According to Makuik bear's-meat is greatly prized because of its
toughness. It is considered effeminate to eat tender meat. The
sound of an Eskimo meal is not unlike a Red-Cross bandage-tear-
ing session.

A study of the photograph under the microscope clearly shows the
vitamines winding their curiously spiral course up and down the
meal.

The absence of table manners is not remarkable when one con-
siders the absence of tables.

Dinner is Served

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 149

Swiftly and noiselessly a large block of snow
at the base of the cairn itself moved to one side
disclosing a laughing face, the same lovely coun-
tenance upon which I had gazed several weeks
before. The wearer listened for a full minute with
bird-like intentness, then leaped lightly out and
straightened up, a long-limbed, graceful creature
wearing the conventional summer furs of the
Northern Eskimo. Her hood was thrown back
showing a glimpse of entrancing shoulder but what
dazzled me most were the starry blue eyes, fair skin
and wealth of molten, golden hair!

Her first act was to circumnavigate the cairn
which she did with the same silent rapidity that
marked her every motion. She then made directly
for the lure, bending over it, touching it cautiously
and finally raising it and burying her face in its
scarlet folds, while her laughs rang out muffled but
intoxicating.

This was my chance!

Bursting through my prison walls I rushed to-
ward her while Swank, by arrangement, crashed
out of Pease, darted to the entrance, slid the block
into place and sat on it. I was upon her before
she had a chance to move.

"Akalok!" I cried (the Northern dialect for

150 MY NORTHERX EXPOSURE

"friend"), as we rolled over and over in the snow.
My old football training stood me in good stead
for I had made a perfect diving tackle. Inwardly
blessing the name of Ted Coy, I pinned the lithe,
palpitating body to the snow, repeating more ten-
derly the soft appellation, "Akalok, Ahalok"

But my triumph was shortlived.

For the first time her lips moved and from be-
tween them burst a wild, frantic cry, strangely
familiar to my ears.

"Makuik! Makuik!"

At the repetition I heard a shriek of pain from
Swank and glanced over my shoulder in time to
see him rise in the air. The ice block was shattered
beneath him and I saw an ugly stub of seal-spear,
thrust accurately where he had formerly sat. Di-
rectly back of him leaped an ape-like figure as swart
and scowling as a Japanese war mask. He carried
a terrific weapon, a keen-edged blubber cutter, with
which he made directly at me.

At ten paces I recognized him but too late to
stop the impending blow. Firing over my shoulder,
a tricky shot at best, I shattered the bone blade
into a thousand fragments, at the same instant
jumping to my feet and shouting — "Makuik!
Tapok!"

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 151

I had given my name, "Tapok," the Icelandic
pronunciation, and at the sound he stopped like a
man shot.

"Makuik!" I cried again.

His ferocious scowl faded through stupefaction
to astonishment and gleeful recognition.

"Tapok!" he rumbled, spreading his arms wide.
"Kata pokok Ikik ndkatokl"

I regret that I cannot translate his remark which
was highly improper and referred definitely to the
woman, Ikik, who stood trembling beside us. She
had raised her oomiak and now, to hide her blushes,
folded her glorious hair across her face so that she
resembled some divine being, half goddess, half
skye-terrier. Back of the screen I saw her blue
eyes shining and caught a suppressed gurgle of
mirth. All, then, was not lost.

In the meantime the cairn was humming like a
mighty hive while through a re-opened aperture
crawled other individuals, first a younger Eskimo,
a mere stripling, followed by four other Eskimos,
all radiant blondes. One of them carried a child,
slung over her shoulder in her oomiak.

At a command from Makuik, Swank was helped
to his feet, the spear being extracted from his per-
son by Snak, a slender maiden with a mischievous

152 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

smile who deftly poulticed the wound with a hand-
ful of snow.

If the reader is astounded at the sudden turn
of events he can imagine my feeling when my eyes
rested on Makuik, mighty hunter of the Kryptok
tribe, whom I had last seen twenty years ago when
we had fought our way four hundred miles across
broken ice from Ki, an uncharted speck north of
Iceland, to Archangel. It is a long story. Suffice
it to say that I had saved his life twelve times dur-
ing the trip while he had done nearly as well by
me. We had sworn eternal blood-brotherhood and
the word of an Eskimo is as good as his bond; bet-
ter, in fact.

The Kryptok tongue came back to me fluently
and I quickly assembled the family group — for
such it was — in our dugout where a distribution
of A-P and such small presents as I could lay
my hands on transformed what had been two hostile
camps into one joyous assemblage.

While the women gurgled their satisfaction over
their new fly swatters and empty herring boxes,
vying with each other in their attempts to ease
Swank's pain, Makuik explained the situation.

The women were all his wives, fruits of vic-
torious battle. They were of the Klinka tribe, per-

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 153

feet blondes, as I have noted. The young man was
his oldest son by an Iceland mother.

"Too old. I eat. No good wife . . . good eat,"
he explained frankly.

The infant was his youngest. There would be
others. His party had been caught at the Pole by
an unexpectedly early summer. For protection
from the heat they had taken to the cairn, there to
await the winter freeze which would make travel
comfortable and possible.

"But why did you hide?" I asked.

"Me not know," he said, smiling craftily. "You
have trees."

"Trees?" I mused, then burst out laughing. Of
course! He referred to my imperial and goatee,
which I have worn since my service in the Bodansky
Zouaves, and which he had never seen!

It was as clear as day.

Chuckling with delight, the old warrior showed
me over their living quarters while I mar-
velled at his vigor, preserved in this world of ice.
The interior of the cairn was astounding. Instead
of entering a domed chamber, similar to the many
igloos I have inhabited, we went down, down for
a surprising distance. The entire habitation was
hewn from the eternal ice to depths far beyond the

154 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

reach of sun or storm. It was a three-room-and-
bath arrangement, the latter consisting of a trough,
at a slightly lower level than the main floor, filled
with lucent seal oil. The rooms were respectively,
living-room (which also served as kitchen and din-
ing-room), bedroom, simply furnished with com-
munity sleeping-bag, etc., and storeroom, piled
high with blubber, fur-steaks, walrus eyes and other
Eskimo dainties. The temperature was slightly
below freezing, a delightful change from the pros-
trating heat we had been enduring, though I will
confess that I began to think longingly of mittens
and bearskins and was glad when we once more
ascended into warmer atmosphere.

I reached the surface just in time to meet the
returning members of my party who, needless to
say, were faint with astonishment at the change
in conditions.

General introductions were in order and a blithe
evening meal was soon under way. But how differ-
ent a feast from the man-made orgy that had dis-
graced our arrival. How completely the presence
of these gentle savage women had altered the com-
plexion of our enjoyment.

Sprawling about Ikik and Snak, and the other
three, Yalok, Klikitok and Lapatok (whose babe

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 155

had been placed in its cold storage niche) , my com-
panions engaged in all sorts of innocent foolery.
Though they spoke not a word of each other's
language a subtle understanding had sprung up
between them. Was it the common strain of Cau-
casian blood or simple sex calling to even simpler
sex? I cannot answer.

Frissell had produced a lavish supply of toys
from his pack which made an enormous hit. Ikik
had a colored doll which she nursed affectingly.
Lapatok joyfully wound a police rattle, while Snak,
Klikitok and Yalok sucked rubber teething-rings
with evident relish.

Makuik reserved for himself a monkey-on-a-
stick which he regarded as a sceptre, the mechanism
of which pleased and mystified him.

At nine o'clock Whinney announced tri-
umphantly that his radio was working. He
switched it on and we listened in awe while a far-
away voice, introduced as Miss Anita Scatchett of
the New Jersey State Normal School, told a Bed-
time story, "How the Animal Crackers Came
Alive."

I say "we listened in awe." I must amend that
statement. For a few moments I was mildly
impressed. It did seem odd to think of a gentle

A FAR-OFF FASHION-PLATE

In the charming scene herewith depicted, Yalok, the beautiful
Klinka belle, is posing as if she were a mannequin on parade in some
lovely al presco fete, as indeed she is. The background in itself is
interesting, showing, at stage right, the Tarpaulin Tea-House erected
and conducted during the Summer months by Herman Swank, Dr.
Traprock's artistic fellow-voyager. To this picturesque chalet the
Eskimo maidens turned with womanly instinct and its accommo-
dations, limited to two, were in great demand. Mr. Whinney, when
not entertaining a personal guest, sat outside. But these intimate
details need not detain us.

The principal figure is Yalok who, for the purposes of photo-
graphy, has donned the very latest 1922 Spring-model sports-suit.
She wears, it will be noted, "a woman's crowning glory" — her own
hair. The other glories are supplied by the hair of various animals
indigenous to the Arctic.

Reading from North to South this snappy get-up consists of the
otary over-smock or slip-in with sliding sleeves of unborn-seal, the
roomy ''roamers" of polar bearskin and the pliant chats ures. The
sleeves, another loose seal effect, modestly cover the entire ar"n or
arms and flare back vehemently from the gauntlets, which may be
eider-down or up. The roamers, again, cut loose from conventional
lines and melt suavely into the retroussee wading slippers. The
last mentioned articles are fashioned from the pelt of the Amok,
which usefully grows hair on both sides of its hide. The fore-and-
aft apron or windshield is nattily edged with ermine and at the
back runs smartly into a train. A last-minute accessory is the fly-
swatter, Dr. Traprock's gift to the lady, which is held at the correct
angle of 45*.

More important, however, than mere costume is the art of wearing
it, an art in which this lovely model is evidently entirely at home.
Her position is that demanded of a debutante in the most exclusive
Eskimo society, when she is presented to a distinguished foreigner,
the head modestly bowed, the eyes downcast, the arms in an allur-
ing come-and-get-me position and the feet gracefully parted in the
middle.

A final touch of chic unreproduceable by photography but which
has all the allure of a truly Parisian pomboire, is the perfume
(Eau de Muskox) which adds its ineffable odor to this arctic rose,
a hovery halo, and exquisite ectoplasm.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 159

spinster in Newark, thousands of miles away,
speaking to these children of nature. But as far
as our guests were concerned, the feature was a
dud. The subject matter soon began to bore us
all and we shut it off, to Whinney's disgust.

A few moments later I rose with a start. Some-
thing in the air chilled me with horror. Glancing
toward the horizon I gasped, then quickly caught
myself.

The sun was half hidden below the horizon ! The
light was distinctly dim!

I thought no one had noticed my involuntary
start, but Makuik, though seemingly absorbed in
his monkey, leaned toward me and whispered,
"Night come."

Night! My God! It had stolen upon us una-
ware. We would be caught, trapped in the deadly
grip of the North King who had claimed so many
brave men before us.

The darkened atmosphere suggested but one
thought.

"Bed," I said. "Sleep."

My oblivious companions took it as a signal for
dispersal. They rose reluctantly. Good-byes were
said. Noses were rubbed affectionately.

Then an embarrassing episode took place.

160 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Makuik, who had marshalled his flock before
him, suddenly seized the lovely Ikik by the shoulder
and thrust her into my arms.

"You take," he said, smiling broadly. "Me
give."

Her warm body pressed against me, not unwill-
ing. It is the Kryptok custom, as usual as giving
a man a drink.

Confused and inefficient, I stood there. But my
perplexity was shattered by another surprise. A
compact, wiry form hurled itself between us. It
was Sausalito, her face livid with fury!

"You let that woman be!" she shrieked, panting,
glaring.

Makuik shrugged his shoulders and pushed the
Eskimo woman roughly toward her fellow wives.
Then, turning, he glanced contemptuously at Sau-
salito.

"No good .... you eat." He leered, swinging
off toward his sub-cellar.

"Dog-face!" screamed Sausalito. "Pig's-foot.

Triplett's great hammer fist struck her squarely
on the jaw and she sank limp in his arms.

Late that night I lay tossing on my blankets,
prey to a thousand conflicting emotions, fear, joy,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 161

and sickening anxiety, beneath which, like the
burden of a refrain, ran the overwhelming thought :
"She loves me. Sausalito loves me. What shall
I do?"

It was the first time such a proposition had ever
daunted me.

Chapter VII

Still procrastinating. Our pastimes at the Pole.
An exchange of love-tokens. Ikik's avowal.
Caught in the embrace of the Aurora.

163

Chapter VII

The longer I live the more of a fatalist I become.
Looking back on the weeks which followed our
meeting with Makuik and his family I see myself
powerless in the grip of a force superior to my
own. How else can I account for the procrastina-
tion which, day after day, week after week, held
me in my perilous location. For that it was perilous
my brain told me clearly.

Seven previous trips into the Arctic had taught
me that its climate could be treacherous as well as
friendly. If I have seemed to expatiate on the
tropical warmth of an exceptional summer, the
hottest on record in the meteorological archives of
Iceland (which are the oldest in the world), rest
assured that it is with no wish to encourage ill-
equipped pleasure-parties to venture forth into
these icy solitudes. I have been warned by an
eminent polar authority that it would be dangerous
and wrong to instill this idea. I thoroughly agree

163

A NIMROD OF THE NORTH

A large volume might be written about this illustration alone.

Big game hunting, in the last analysis, is usually a feeble sort
of sport. The stalking of itself is a beneficial form of exercise but
when at last the two strong brutes, human and animal, stand face
to face it is an odds-on bet on the human. An express-bullet takes
little account of hide or hair. Compared with this form of target-
practice fly-swatting and mosquito-slapping are gallantry itself.

We may learn something from Makuik, the Kryptok huntsman
who is seen en face in the act of capturing part of his winter's meat-
supply in the person of a magnificent specimen of the ursus polaris.
The method universally employed by the Eskimo is that of the
surprise-onslaught. Polar bears, for some reason, do not expect to
be attacked by men from the air.

Perched on a rocky eyrie the native huntsman warily scans the
floe for his victim. The path beneath the precipice is baited with
small cubes of seal and pemmican meat along which the prey is
led by appetite just as children at birthday parties are led through
the mazes of a peanut-hunt. When the bear is directly below him,
the hunter springs silently into the air and descends like a falling
archangel on the creature's back. A hunter's prowess is measured
by the height from which he dares to jump. Makuik holds the
Kryptok record in this event is 40 Kyaks (approximately 520 ft.).
At the termination of a successful jump the bear breaks the fall
and the fall not infrequently breaks the bear. But the risk is great
and in case of a miss the Nimrod becomes forthwith data for the
actuaries and food for the bear. As in all aerial feats the important
part is the landing.

In the incident portrayed the result was the not unusual one of
a glancing blow. Striking the bear's shoulder Makuik was thrown
for a loss of seven yards, not, however, before he had pinned one
of the bear's paws to the ice with his keen-edged ratak. From then
on the fight was a fierce hand-to-paw affair, one round to a finish
with the incessant in-fighting, knife against claw, brain against
brain.

Makuik won the decision after forty-three minutes of gruelling
and growling work, not without considerable damage to his person.
Throughout the battle h? consistently placed his knife-thrusts where
they could later be made into buttonholes by his beautiful wives,
beginning at the lowest button and working upward to the lapel.
The bear was thus actually tailored during the process of destruc-
tion. Forest and Stream please copy.

A Nimrcd of the North

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 169

with him. Woe betide the week-end tripper or
basket-picnicker who fares beyond eighty-six with
no protection other than a warm sweater and a
quart thermos of coffee! He is doomed before he
starts or immediately thereafter. When the short
summer wanes the thermometer plunges without
wrarning to incredible depths and almost certain
disaster results.

And yet, knowing these things, I stayed. Dis-
carding all plans, scrapping all schedules, denying
all reasons, I delayed, lingered and waited. For
what? Death, perhaps, but before death, Love!
Ah, love! love! mad will-o'-the-wisp, flaming with
tragic intensity in the very core of a berg,
destroying passion, paralyzing my will-power even
as the spirit of winter laid his icy hand on my
shoulder.

My companions, fatally influenced by my ex-
ample, were no longer restless but completely satis-
fied with their surroundings and with the society of
the Klinka women who, as the light waned and the
temperature dropped, ventured more and more into
the open.

Nowhere in the world will one find such gaiety,
friendliness, and generosity as among these child-
like denizens of the North. I do not except even

170 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

the glorious Filbert Islanders who were my own
discovery. During many a long twilight I sat with
Whinney, Triplett and Swank about the Primus
stove which we now found comfortable, chatting of
our Polynesian friends and evoking many a tender
memory. Of all who made that famous cruise only
our former crew was missing, Thomas, the sailor-
man whom we left behind. But I could not find
it in my heart to envy him.*

Compared with northern tribes all Polynesians
are slow and lethargic. Nothing could exceed the
swift grace of these glorious Klinkas, and many a
day of rare sport we had while there was still light.
Our contribution to the program usually consisted
of an American game adapted to local conditions:
tennis, using the native snowshoes for rackets and
balls of inflated fish-membrane, or golf over a
sporty nine-hole course with constantly shifting
snow-bunkers and water-hazards. This variable
quality in the links made play extremely interest-
ing and likewise supplied a much needed alibi for
our scores. Frissell's inventiveness created extra-

* William Henry Thomas, cook, valet and foremast-hand who
refused to leave the Islands, where he now rules with the title of
Filbert the First, under an individual mandate conferred by the
Paris Conference. See ^'Cruise of the Kawa," Chap. 9, p. 133.

W. E. T.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 171

ordinary good clubs out of parts of our cooking
utensils lashed to whalebone shafts, with which it
was no unusual thing to drive upwards of seven
hundred yards. The idea is covered by patents.

To my amusement Makuik and his entire family
were deathly afraid of the pogo-sticks. In their
simple minds this contrivance was endowed with
life of its own. When I finally forced one on
Ikik she planted it fervently on a little cairn where
it was worshipped as a God. How strangely the
idea of the totem-pole persists! And speaking of
poles, no outdoor sport proved more popular than
tether-ball, with the ball tethered to the Pole
itself.

The Eskimos were far from lacking in amuse-
ments of their own, though these naturally had a
direct bearing on some ulterior object such as blub-
ber for food-supply or furs for warmth. It has
remained for the superior white races to invent
games which are of no use whatever.

Time and again Makuik thrilled us by his long
distance harpooning of seals which now sought the
floes in large numbers.

The perfect poise, the powerful thrust, the long
trajectory and the final, squashing hit just behind
the ear were enough to excite the envy of an

172 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Olympic javelin thrower.* The feat was the more
remarkable when it is considered that a seal's ear
is on the inside and, therefore, invisible.

Some of the novices in my party were slightly
overcome by the mad rush of Makuik's family to-
ward the stricken carcass from which they tore and
devoured long strips of blubber, but needless to
say this was an old story to me. Fresh seal's eyes
are a coveted tid-bit, and I was much touched when
Ikik brought me one, warm and quivering, in the
palm of her hand. It was plainly a love offering
as I saw when I looked from her eyes to that of
the seal. One should chew them, not gulp them
down, in order to get the full flavor which is not
unlike a Cape Cod oyster, though more salty and
slightly oily.

The women were particularly fond of leading
us on searching parties in quest of seal roe, which
we found in large quantities in the shallow nests
lined with the yellow wax which exudes from the
pores of the mother. Both roe and wax are highly
prized by the natives who spread them, mixed, on
squares of seal hide, forming sandwiches. In win-

* For an interesting account of Eskimo games see the essay by Dr.
R. Petersen. "In Lintinwinger i Kippenskabssel-skabet i Chris-
tiania," delivered April 3, 1920. W. E. T.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 173

ter the seal fur is also included on account of the
extra warmth which is provided.*

It was a happy thought of mine to present Ikik
with an enormous church candle which, having been
blessed, had been presented to me by the Bishop
Metaxis Polyphlosboios in Constantinople. Ikik
and I were alone when I offered it, in return for
the eye she had given me. I wish my readers could
have seen her divine smile as she touched, smelled
and finally tasted the white cylinder, which was
so much more refined than the fresh fat and tallow
which had been daily pabulum.

"Tapok, Ataki! Traprock, I adore you!" she
cried, throwing herself at my feet and chewing the
uppers of my moccasins, the native expression of
complete devotion.

"Enough!" I murmured, raising her by her hair;
"here come the others."

Though my "affaire de occur" was progressing
satisfactorily, I was forced to walk warily. Some
of my fellows were infernal busy-bodies and Sau-
salito, poor wretch, watched over me with furious
jealousy.

Innumerable were the diversions of those happy,

* I tried to eat one of these fur-bearing sandwiches in 1898 and
nearly died laughing. T.

174 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

happy days, the mad pursuit of an occasional musk-
ox, of which the women were insanely fond because
of the perfume derived from its peripatetic gland,
and the absorbingly interesting observations of the
Arctic guppys, those unique fish which bear their
live and full-formed young on the ice without the
tedious formality of laying an egg. The mother
guppy immediately eats her offspring and the race
between her and the Eskimo audience to see which
could get the most, was not the least amusing phase
of this quaint accouchement.

And then the long, twilight evenings, snuggled
down in the deep furs of our friends, sharing the
warmth of our tiny Primus under the Kawa's lee,
crooning our songs, passing our plugs and our gay
banter. I feel sure than I shall never be nearer
heaven.

On an immemorial date, for our watches had long
ago run down, we sat thus in our little Arctic circle
listening languidly to a number on Whinney's
radio, — "What the Sunday Schools of Kansas are
Doing," I believe it was, — no; "The weather a
hundred years ago today," that was it, — when I
suddenly realized that it was dark; not twilight,
but actually dark!

Can you realize what that meant to me ? Startled,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 175

I withdrew my thumb from Ikik's soft lips and
raised myself on my elbow. About me in the
gloom were vague bundles, Swank and Yalok, Fris-
sell and Snak, Whinney and Lapatok, Wigmore
and Klipitok, Triplett and Sausalito, silent, rap-
turous, oblivious. But a strange thing was hap-
pening.

All about the circumference of the great ice
bowl, of which we were the center, rose trembling,
blue flames. I could hear their fluttering hiss and
crackle. Now they leaped higher, shooting out
giant arms toward the zenith, waving lambent fin-
gers, shivering, interlocking, melting. My com-
panions, aroused, sat up and I could see their
startled faces lighted by an unearthly light.

The noise and glare increased. Swishing waves
of fuchsia-pink swept up the sky; muffled explo-
sions were followed by writhing snakes of lemon-
yellow and far-flung globes of purple and crimson
gleamed in the sky while, directly overhead, mil-
lions of miles away, the North Star looked down
indifferently.

At times the wall of encircling flames, now ap-
proximately ten miles high, leaped in unison, to a
diabolical rhythm; again they moved about us in
procession, gigantic, towering, flapping, hissing,

AN ARCH ARCHEOLOGIST

One of the most pathetic figures in the author's startling "expo-
sure" is that of Bartholomew Dane, the Egyptologist who is here
shown with Snak, his Klinka assistant, pursuing his specialty of
comparative archeology.

A word as to Dane's previous record may bring some information
to the few Americans who have not made archeology, with emphasis
on Egyptology, a hobby. Born of Nordic stock (his maternal
grandmother was one of the Iceland Krakkens), educated in the
more-than-usually-common schools of South Bend, young Dane
showed early aptitude in geography, history and kindred studies.
His passion for research work was early in evidence, his every
leisure moment being spent in the examination of abandoned cellar-
holes, cisterns, wells, rubbish-heaps and public dumps. His parents,
fearful lest their son turn out to be a rag-picker secured for him
an under-janitorship at the Natural History Museum of New York
City, doubtless hoping to thereby shift the blame for his develop-
ment from South Bend to the Metropolis. From then on his rise
was rapid. Working his way up from the cellar we next hear of him
as Secretary to Prof. Thurston Mudgett of the Extinct Civiliza-
tions Dept. His course from there to the Nile delta was clearly
indicated.

Six months later the young archeologist disappeared, only to re-
appear six months later laden with honors conferred by the Egyp-
tian government, a full-professor in the College of Alexandria, a
recognized authority abroad belatedly received with equal honors
at home. His great work on Scarabs among the Arabs is in itself
an enduring monument.

What led Dane northward is a mystery. That he hoped to find
the missing link in the almost completed itinerary of the lost tribes
of Israel we know. That he failed in this dream is a sad fact. But
there is solace in the thought that amid the snowy wildernesses of
the Pole he found in the companionship of the sympathetic Snak
a love which could never have reached him over the hot sands of
Sahara.

Due to overwork, exposure and an unavoidable blow on the head,
his mind has failed considerably of late but in his lucid moments
he hints darkly at having made certain interesting discoveries which
have nothing whatever to do with archeology. His earlier achieve-
ments, his protracted sojourn in the Tomb of Put, his discovery of the
Temple of Murad, all these he lightly dismisses. "The first year
was the pleasantest," he laughs; the rest is silence, and the silence is,
we trust for this courageous spirit — rest.

An Arch Archeologist

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 179

whistling, rippling, a night-mare of glorious colors
which have no names. The very ice below me,
cracking and groaning, was shot with fiery veins.

The Eskimos had buried their heads in their
oomiaks, my companions lay face downward.

Desperately frightened, I still resolved to face
the end, to see what my dazed senses told me was
the final conflagration of the world.

Staggering to my feet, I glared about me, taking
in the picture with all its ghastly details, the Pole
and its flags, the cairn, the Kawa, every block and
halyard of which was etched on this field of flame.
How insignificant it all seemed.

The world had finished its trick; it was as a tiny
bead, cast away by the Creator, a cinder in the eye
of God!

Suddenly the flames turned incandescently white,
rushed toward me and, on an overwhelming wave
of siren wailing, I was swept away, billions of miles
beyond the Pole-star, to Eternity. . . .

Ikik was rubbing my forehead with a cool tundra
sponge and her face above me was that of an
angel.

"Did you see?" she asked. "It was beautiful."

180 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

The Eskimos were discussing the display
critically.

"Too green," said Makuik. "No good. Cold
come."

Peering through the darkness I saw the dim out-
line of the Kawa. The Pole stood intact. Nothing
was harmed, nothing singed.

The astounding truth burst upon me, astounding
and important to me though nothing to these ages-
old Aryans.

We had been in the exact center of the aurora
borealis.

Another milestone for American science!

Chapter VIII

The Arctic Night. The temptation of Traprock.
The pros and cons of falling. We solve an age-
old riddle. Our Polar Christmas. The love-
philtre. Abandonment.

181

Chapter VIII

"Eighty-six below," announced Captain Triplett
the next morning, "an' a fine, starry night."

Old Ezra was right. Night had fallen while we
slept. The long Arctic blackness had followed our
twilight sleep, and we were now in the grip of its
intense cold.

How strangely fate works her miracles! But
for my first glimpse of Ikik and our subsequent
meeting, we should inevitably have perished, clad
as we were in our light linen-mesh and flannels.
But the Eskimos had foreseen our peril and sup-
plied us with roomy garments from their own
abundant store. No gift in their possession was
withheld by these warm-hearted people. Gauntlets,
socks, boots and great hooded oomiaks were pressed
upon us in which, as soon as we had become ac-
customed to their overpowering odor, we were
extremely comfortable and were able to go about
during the less severe weather without dan-

183

184 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

ger of being frozen unawares, a very real risk for
the novice.*

Makuik was insistent that both parties join in
sharing the protection of his sub-surface home.

"My meat, yours. . . . my woman, yours. . . .
you know."

His words were accompanied by the Kryptok
sign of blood-brotherhood reserved for members
of the clan. Were I to divulge it here I should
some day feel the thrust of Makuik's salmon-spear
between my shoulder blades. It was a dramatic
feature of Kryptok ritual that a sin against blood
brotherhood may only be washed out by the blood
of the offending brother.

But though I realized the closeness of the tie
which bound me to this furry friend, though every
fibre of my being cried out to accept the gift which
he offered so gladly, a gift which meant warmth,
happiness, love! — knowing all this, I was firm in
my refusal.

In the face of a temptation, the greatest

* In 1906, off Trollebotn in Helgeland, I saw an inex-
perienced Niblick fisherman overtaken by a cold snap. He nearly
froze to death as he was endeavoring to reach our ship (The Prim-
rose) his motions becoming gradually slower until he finally came
to a standstill, with one foot raised in act of taking a step. We got
him aboard with nothing more serious than the loss of one arm which
broke off as we were lifting him over the side.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 185

perhaps of my life, I resisted, I fought, I
struggled.

My reasons were many and complicated. If they
were right or not I do not know, but they seemed
so at the time.

To begin with I knew in my heart that the be-
ginning of close clan relations with these magnifi-
cent Klinkas meant the end of the Traprock Ex-
pedition! That we should ever again return to
civilization was absolutely unthinkable. Here, in
this winter solitude, I saw the first glimmerings of
the truth over which the scientific world has so long
puzzled. Here was the answer to the old, old,
question, "Why do explorers leave home?" Why
have so many never returned?

They have been absorbed by, and eventually into,
one of these magnificent tribes. They have disap-
peared, or if they have found their way back
to civilization, having proved failures in their
new environment, they are tongue-tied, evasive,
ashamed.

If I accepted Makuik's hospitality, in full, I
saw another inevitable result. He would eventually
have to die at my hands. There is room in a small
nomadic tribe for but one leader, one "Kalok" or
"Strong man." This is the ancient law of evolu-

THE BATTLE ON THE BRINK

Students of the text of this volume will recall that a distinct
rivalry existed between two of the principal characters, Sausalito
and Ikik. The author makes what to us seems a delicate distinc-
tion regarding the object of this rivalry. "It was," he says, "not so
much me as my love." There is something almost astral in this
subdivision. Be that as it may, a strong feeling of competition
existed between the two ladies which vented itself in frequent
passages between them similar to that illustrated.

In this case the struggle started, as usual, in the most friendly
manner, its object being the possession of a stub of candle, the last
of the great dip presented to Ikik by Dr. Traprock. Developing, as
such things do, from playful wrestling to rough-house, it was not
long before the Klinka maiden found that she was struggling for
her life. Sausalito's experience in catch-as-catch-can work, gained
up and down the Barbary coast, was an equal match for the supple
strength of her adversary and there is little doubt that the result
would have been fatal to one or both participants had it not been
for the timely intervention of Makuik who, seeing how things were
going and fearing possible damage to one of his favorite wives,
kicked over the icy stage upon which the drama was being enacted,
at the same instant throwing the carcass of a bull-seal where it
would intercept the fall of the contestants. Had it not been for the
skill of Makuik in throwing the bull we can well imagine what
would have happened. The animal weighed 220 poks or "meals,"
that is, approximately 2200 lbs., a "meal" being reckoned as 10 lbs.
of any form of food-supply.

After the fall described above a temporary truce was patched up
but the feeling of rivalry remained acute. As the philosophical
author observes, "Being in love with two women is one thing: being
loved by them is another."

The Battle on the Brink

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 189

tion. Bound as I was to Makuik I hesitated to
take the first step which spelt his doom.

A final consideration, though not one which bore
much weight, was that there were not enough Klin-
kas to go round. I have, perhaps, indicated in my
previous chapter, that the process of natural selec-
tion, though far from home, had not ceased to
operate. The Klinka women, while filled with joy-
ous camaraderie, clearly had their favorites and the
pairing which I noted most often was that of Swank
and Yalok, Frissell and Snak, and Whinney and
Lapatok.

Frissell amused Snak immensely with his out-
landish noises and imitations, and Lapatok, who
stayed near the cairn more than the others in order
to care for little Kopek, her boy, found in the now
helpless Whinney another child upon whom to lav-
ish her affection.

Makuik smiled tolerantly at these innocent rela-
tions. The women were his, when all was said, and
I have no doubt that had the faintest wave of jeal-
ousy stirred his primitive heart he would have
calmed it by the old tribal method of holding the
offender under water for the few seconds necessary
to allow the ice-opening to freeze over.

Unfortunately the other members of the expedi-

190 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

tion did not accept the situation so calmly. Plock,
Miskin and Sloff were by no means satisfied with
an arrangement which so plainly left them out of
it. Dane was not, by nature a ladies' man, though
he took the color of the others' mental attitude.
On numerous occasions I was forced to intervene
when a sudden minor crisis developed. Miskin took
umbrage because Snak gave Frissell the largest
piece of blubber, or some other tom-foolery, and
before one could stop it the air was hot with sup-
pressed antipathy.

This state of affairs frankly worried me and I
was not anxious to make it worse by accentuating
it in the intimacies which were bound to develop
in Makuik's igloo.

I therefore issued the strictest orders that all my
men should bunk on the Kawa, a regulation which
I forced myself to adhere to in spite of the most
terrific temptations. We had completely over-
hauled our running gear during the warm weather
and now found that by running the Tutbury at
quarter speed, thus charging the batteries, we were
able to generate just the right amount of heat
required to keep us comfortable.

We soon adapted ourselves to our new mode
of life. All outside thermometers were hung up-

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 191

side down in order to read properly and whenever
the temperature was above forty below we sallied
forth into the night, on pleasure or profit bent.

An early inspection was made by Miskin, SlofT
and myself of the rim of the ice bowl, immediately
following the stupendous display of the aurora
borealis, which had ushered in the winter. Makuik
accompanied us and it was from the naive com-
ments of this child of the north that we arrived at
a solution of a large part of the problems in con-
nection with this phenomenon.

As we travelled about the circumference of the
bowl I was at once struck by a deep trench or moat
which followed its outline. The sides of this moat,
which averaged approximately 200 yards in width,
were glazed with freshly formed ice which appeared
at first to be black in color. A closer inspection
showed that this color was derived from a sub-sur-
face stratum of finely powdered carboniferous
deposit similar to coal or cinders. At no place
were we able to reach this deposit owing to the
shortness of our ice picks, but both Miskin and
SlofT agreed that the buried material was clearly a
metallic slag which had been subjected to extreme
heat.

It was at this point that Makuik injected his

192 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

interesting personality into our deliberations. Ob-
serving our puzzled looks he stooped and gathered
up a handful of loose snow crystals which he
thrust into his mouth, at once expelling them with
a mighty gust of breath. Then he clapped his
stomach and said —

"Ice . . . sick . . . so . . . pouf !" another great
blast.

My mind flpshed back instantly to the claims of
an old scientist of whom I had heard my friend
Waxman speak, one John Cleves Symmes. As
far back as 1819 Symmes had advanced the theory
that the earth was hollow. His exact statement
reads "the earth is hollow and habitable within,
being composed of a number of solid, concentric
spheres." Unfortunately Symmes was unable to
travel further north than the site of what is now
Racine, Wis.,* so that his theory remained only a
theory and he was eventually laughed out of court.

Now, over a century later, I was to verify a part
of his suspicion. That the earth was hollow we
could not doubt. Subsequent excavations in the
great polar ditch confirmed what we had begun

* The Case Harvester Co. has meritoriously placed a monu-
ment to Symmes on the front lawn of its subsidiary plant, The Belle
Terre Mfg. Co. The monument consists of a large hollow ball of
local granite. Keys at res. of John Reid, Jr., Caretaker.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 193

to realize. The entire section of earth crust at this
end of the axis was loose! Deep in the bowels of
Mother Earth still burned the terrific primal
fires, occasionally venting themselves in some such
upheaval as we had witnessed. Whinney later cor-
roborated the findings of Sloff and Miskin regard-
ing excavated specimens of the slag, namely, that
they were composed of rhyolite rocks, pulverized
lime and other building materials plainly produced
by volcanism. The ceaseless whirl of the earth on
its axis naturally throws these expanding substances
toward the Pole until the bung, or world stopper,
is loosened. As soon as the terrific pressure is
relieved the ice cap sinks back and the melted snow
at once seals the circular fissure.

It is the discovery of such long-sought truths
as this which more than repays me for the hard-
ships involved. As I pen these lines I can but
bow my head in humble thankfulness to Him who
knew too well to fashion this Earth without a
safety valve.

The exact date of this and other discoveries is
indeterminate. Since the stopping of our chro-
nometers we had gone mainly by guesswork. I
was fully aware, from the advent of the polar night,
that time had slipped on to approximately Sep-

13

194 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

tember 20tb. Knowing our exact position (Lat.
90°, Long. 0) it was a simple matter for Triplett
to re-establisli a definite day schedule by the theo-
dolite-hygrometer method combined with astron-
omy. The weather was now clear and excellent
views of the stars were obtainable from any given
point. Altair, Vega and Betelgeuse were particu-
larly visible, but Triplett's favorite constellation
was the Dipper, the handle of which he usually
triangulated with Cygnus and ourselves. Three
successive observations gave Saturday, September
28th as the correct answer and I forthwith posted
notices of this fact, which was celebrated by a joint
feast.

Night, it is said, is the time for reflection and I
now had ample opportunity for this exercise. Un-
fortunately for the philosophic calm which might
have resulted from thought, Ikik, my lovely north-
ern sweetheart, had other ideas as to the proper
disposal of the nocturnal hours. The glances which
she levelled at me across the Primus were, to say
the least, importunate. Little by little I felt my
icy resolution thawing beneath her tropic influence.

It was an odd situation. About me the wastes
of berg and floe, the mercury skulking in the base-
ment of the thermometer, while in my heart burned

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 195

an increasing glow that would not be extinguished.
Yet I fought on, a St. Anthony of the North.

Christmas came, as it will even in this distant
clime. The event was marked by a general celebra-
tion. As I went about the preparations for the
feast I little realized how tragically the date was
to stand out in my memory.

Morning dawned dark and clear. We used the
Pole for our tree, having fashioned branches of
oars, pogo-sticks and other suitable materials. Dur-
ing what would have been the fore-noon we groped
our way to the edge of the ice bowl, in groups of
two or three. I was in one of the groups of two.
The other half was Ikik.

Sitting in silence on the edge of the earth crater,
I mused sadly. How wonderful, I thought, if the
great safety valve would but open and bear my
love and me away in its flaming arms. But the
conflagration was to be of a more human and
dangerous character.

"See," whispered the maiden. "I have brought
my present for you." How like her it was, to steal
away from the others for this sacred presentation.
I peered at the object in her hand. It was a small
sack of translucent fish membrane filled with a
viscous liquid.

ODE TO THE AURORA

No more poignant moment in the history of American literature
has ever been recorded by the camera than that shown with this
text which portrays Whinney, the poet-scientist, in the very act of
creating his immortal poem "Ode to Aurora," which John Farrar,
the veteran critic, pronounces "the best classic ode ever written north
of the arctic circle."

As a poet Whinney resembles Milton, in that he is blind. Though
this was only a temporary affliction, — snow-blindness, — its immediate
effects were heartrendingly pathetic. Not only did the unfortunate
traveller miss seeing the Pole and the polar fireworks but he was
also forced to master the most difficult of all literary exercises, that
of operating a typewriter with mittens on. The ancient pastime of
catching a flea while wearing boxing-gloves is child's-play compared
with this achievement. Hour after hour, day after day, the per-
sistent poet practised his sightless-touch system.

"What does it look like?" he would ask, submitting a page to
Sausalito who had good-naturedly assumed the duties of nursing-
secretary.

"Nothing," would be the invariable reply.

But with dogged perseverance Whinney struggled on, gaining a
comma here, and a colon there, until he had mastered his instrument.
The result all the world knows, — those deathless lines beginning:

"O Aurora!
Not only East, but North as well,
And West ! and South !
Th' extraordinary tidings tell!
Flash thy bright beams
And wave thy lambent paws,
Clap thou thy rays
In luminous applause."

For sheer glory of color the description of the aurora which
forms the main part of the ode has never been equalled. And then
the solemn close, touching in its modesty.

"Tell thou the world,
That it remember shall
The names of Traprock!
Whinney! Swank! et al."

Since returning to this country Mr. Whinney has taken out a
regular poet's licence and is now turning out verse of the very
highest standard.

Ode to the Aurora

If

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 199

"What is it?" I asked tenderly.

I could feel her flush against my cheek.

"Walrus tears."

"Walrus tears?" Ah, yes, I remembered. Years
ago an old woman in Bjarkoi had told me that
the tears of a male walrus if caught fresh, were an
infallible love potion.*

"Like Tristan and Isolde," I murmured. She
shook her head, uncomprehendingly.

"Drink!" she whispered.

Smiling at the superstition, yet unwilling, unable,
in fact, to resist the pleading look in her eyes, I
loosed the thong and placed the sack to my lips.

The next instant she was in my arms !

My brain reeled. The stars danced dizzily over-
head and were then blotted out. A moment later I
became aware of a ludicrous and embarrassing
circumstance. Locked in each other's embrace we
were sliding down the icy incline of the bowl!

We struck fairly in the midst of a group com-
posed of Triplett, Makuik and several others who

* The Walrus's habit of weeping when one of their number
is captured is one of the most pathetic sights in the world. I once
caught a small calf in the Greely Straits and was immediately sur-
rounded by the herd which burst into tears as they rose about me.
An old bull, who had hooked his tusks over the gunwhale, cried so
copiously that my kayak was half full of tears which, being ignorant
of their value, I foolishly gave to the natives.

200 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

greeted our arrival with roars of laughter ; surely a
strange ending to a "crise d 'amour."

At four-thirty we lighted our tree and had carols,
presents and general dancing. At six the feast was
served, the heaping ice slabs being placed along the
counter of the Kawa which was decked with her
full suit of colors and all her extra riding-lights.
Pemmican, blubber-steak, seal- and walrus-eyes,
hide-salad and guppy-croquettes were supple-
mented from our waning stores of biscuit, herring,
ham, candles and A-P. Even little Kopek was not
denied a place and sat near his mother sipping a
soapstone cup of modified whale's milk.

Swank had compounded a new drink for the
occasion which he called "Traprock tea," consist-
ing of A-P shavings dissolved in salad oil with a
number of live guppys flapping about on the sur-
face, "to give it animation" as the inventor ex-
plained.

The animation was certainly not lacking and the
fun waxed fast and furious.

At an earlier date, late in November, an all night
poker game had been instituted by Wigmore, with
whom this sport was a ruling passion. Warned by
me, the participants had signed an agreement to
quit promptly on the 15th of March, in order to

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 201

avoid the bickering which might be expected when
some loser inevitably insisted that they play "just
a week" or a "month more." The gaming element
now drifted away, one by one, toward the table
in the Kawa's cabin. Most of the others had also
withdrawn into the obscurity. Little Kopek had
long ago been put to bed. Makuik, I regret to
say, was helpless.

It was then that I noticed for the first time the
absence from my side of Ikik. She had stolen off,
unobserved. Rising, I lurched steadily around the
cairn. My head was aching, my heart full of
unspeakable longing and sorrow. Was it the
Traprock tea or the love philter? Probably both.

Resolutely turning my back on the camp I
walked to the far edge of the ice bowl where I sat
down. One by one the lights of the celebration
flickered and went out. I heard the card players
shouting their maudlin good-nights to each other.
Once a voice shouted "Traprock!" and, following
a remark I could not catch, came a burst of coarse
laughter. Then all was silence.

An hour later I arose with a slight shiver; it
was 38 below. Though my hands and feet were
numb, in my veins throbbed liquid fire. Remorse
gnawed at my heart. What had I said to Ikik that

202 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

had turned her from me on this, of all nights, our
first Christmas together?

Reaching the side of the Kawa, where all lay
plunged in slumbers a sudden thrilling resolution
flooded over me. I must see her!

I must whisper a tender good-night to the one
who had grown to mean more to me than all the
rest of the world.

Turning abruptly, my brain reeling, I made
directly for the entrance to the igloo.

The door-block slid back noiselessly. A moment
later I stood in the low room, hesitant. The single
tundra wick gave a dim light through which I saw
Makuik's beady eyes fixed on me. With a sweep-
ing gesture he indicated a vacant space in the line
of deep breathing figures. Then he too sank back
and instantly began snoring.

With infinite care I crept over the human
mounds until I sank into the space Makuik had
pointed out.

Touching the figure next me I whispered in the
lowest of tones.

"Dear one, I have come to say good-night."

She turned toward me, her face shadowed in her
oomiak, soft arms twined stealthily about me as a
vibrant voice murmured "Walter!"

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 203

I bounded to my feet with a cry of dismay that
caused the sleepers to stir uneasily.

The woman followed me as I hurdled my way to
the stairway. In the entrance I glanced back for
a second on a face livid with passion.

It was the face of Sausalito!

Chapter IX

Sausalito's strategy. Orders must be obeyed. We
turn southward. The parting. Mutiny and
desertion. In the grip of the Ice King. A
fight to the finish. Victory.

205

Chapter IX

She came directly to me in the morning. Sleep
had calmed her somewhat. She was cool, but
determined. In her hand she held a packet of
papers, sealed with the seal of the E.U.

"Your orders," she said briefly and turned to
leave the cabin.

"One moment," I said. "You others, kindly
leave us. Sausalito, remain."

She sat down limply.

Plock grinned malevolently as he thumped up
the companion-way. He knew what was coming,
the blackguard.

As I took the packet I saw at a glance that the
seal had been broken and clumsily repaired.

Walking to the hatchway I closed it.

"Where did you get these?"

"I f — f — found them," she stammered.

"Sausalito," I said gently, "you lie."

My tenderness disarmed her. Throwing herself

207

A MOMENT MUSICAL

It is not surprising that Triplett and Traprock were amused by
the reaction of Yalok, the Klinka maiden, to the miracle of the
radio. The author tells us that the "morceau" picked-up at the mo-
ment this photograph was taken was a harmonica-solo by F. P.
Adams of New York. Mr. Adams holds all records for plain and
fancy harmonica-work, triple-tonguing, echo-effects, vox-humana and
choir-invisible. The maestro was accompanied at Newark, by D. T.
Smeed on the pianoforte. Had the great artists known the joy
they were bringing to the far-off ice-maiden, while they could not
have put their backs into their work more thoroughly, they would
doubtless have felt more amply repaid than they did when they
left the offices of the Westinghouse Company.

The number tried and rendered on this particular occasion was
Tristan's song from Der Erl-Koenig, the immortal lyric beginning:

"Childe Hassam to a dark tower came," and ending with that
pathetic musical fiasco

"Placing the slughorn to his lips, —
He blew!"

The hitherto-unheard and unheard-of sound of a B flat slughorn,
reaching into these frozen fastnesses, stirred the very depths of the
Eskimo auditor, while the white strangers, unconscious of the emo-
tional tumult they had aroused, assisted by Messrs. Adams and
Smeed, laughed uproariously at the scene. Dr. Traprock's demeanor,
especially, is positively mephistophelian. Can it be that he thinks
of playing the Satanic role to Triplett's Faust?

Dr. Traprock assures us that we are too imaginative. "It was
a glorious performance"; he says: "Long may its frozen echoes hover
'round the Pole, to thaw out in successive Springs as the years roll
on. I shall not be there to hear them but I shall be happy to think
that they persist."

A Moment Musical

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 211

on her knees she burst into a flood of hysterical
weeping.

"No, no!" she wailed. "I found them. I was
putting your brief-case in order, and then my
curiosity got the better of me and I opened them.
But read, read!"

Obeying her injunction I unfolded the papers,
and sat back, thunderstruck. The orders were
brevity itself. They said simply. "Sail south, at
once." My face must have expressed my bewilder-
ment for she continued. "You see! You see! the
moment I read them I knew these orders were a
plot, a plot to make you turn back, a plot to dis-
credit . . . the man ... I love."

Her voice sank to a low moan and her shoulders
were again racked by sobs. I saw it all now. Con-
sumed by jealousy, knowing the contents of the
papers, she had withheld them until her woman's
nature could stand no more. In the dim light of
the cabin, her face transfigured with tenderness,
she was actually beautiful.

I raised her gently from the floor. "That will
do," I said.

"I am sorry . . . sorry," she moaned.

I pointed to the companionway and she went out
silently.

212 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

In the quarter hour which followed I wrestled
with a temptation more terrible than any trial of
the flesh, the trial of my honor. Once, my hand,
holding the orders, stretched toward the cabin
lamp ; a few ashes, and all would be solved. Then
I hastily drew back as if the flame had scorched
my soul. When I finally arose, spent and trem-
bling, I could proclaim myself the victor.

"Trap rock must be true," I muttered. Then
striding to the hatchway I threw it open and
stepped on deck.

"All hands aboard to receive orders," I bellowed.

Amid confused murmurs the company as-
sembled.

"Sick?" asked Captain Triplett peering at my
white face.

"No; well," I answered. "Men, stow your dun-
nage at once. We leave in four hours for New
York."

Makuik was surprised, but, I think, not dis-
pleased to see us depart. Though imperturbable,
he had felt the responsibility of so large a tribe.
His own way lay toward Iceland, via Ginnunagap
and Nivlheim. Perhaps he felt that as the spring
hunting-season opened his movements would be
hampered. He must soon be on the march in order

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 213

to reach his destination over the solid ice before he
was cut off in the land of enemy tribes from whom
he had ravished their loveliest possessions.

At any rate he worked with a will to speed our
departure. Though he must surely have counted on
the probability of none of us ever reaching safety
he remained generous, bright and smiling to the
last, insisting on dividing what remained of his food
supply and heaping a monumental pile of oomiaks,
spears and other equipment on the Kawa's deck.

When we had turned our little craft about and
cast off our moorings I stepped into the space
between the two parties. It was a trying moment.
I had prepared a short speech for the occasion but
found I could not trust myself to deliver it.

Advancing toward Makuik I silently gave the
Kryptok brotherhood sign, which he returned. I
had not seen Ikik since the previous evening but
I now perceived her in the background and noticed
that wise old Makuik had made fast one of her
ankles to a large block of ice.

Approaching her quietly I hung an oil skin
tobacco pouch about her neck. It contained a
book-plate bearing the Traprock arms * and the

* A cerf-volant, argent, springing over a barbican, on a field, or.
The whole surrounded by a garter. See Peluchet, Hist, des Armoires.

214 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

device "Traprock must be true." On the back of
this I had written, in Klinka script, "I could not
love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more."
Blinded with tears, I turned and for the first
time in many blissful weeks, gave the old, old, com-
mand, "Mush!"

• ••••••

On February twelfth, we had reached eighty-
five. Progress in the cold and dark was infinitely
slower than it had been during the warm northward
journey. The absence of mosquitoes was a com-
pensation but on the whole travel was much more
arduous. The mean temperature from Jan. 1st to
Feb. 10th was 68° below, the meanest I have ever
encountered.

But I was in no hurry. We were very comforta-
ble on our admirable craft and a careful reckoning
of supplies gave me no cause for alarm. According
to my list, we should be able to hold out for another
year if worst came to worst.

It came to worse than that.

My rude awakening came on February 17th.

It had been a wretched day with alternating snow
and blizzard gales. The thermometers had gone
their limit (100 below) and would have gone
further if they had been longer. Cooped up in the

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 215

cabin, worn with toil, frazzled with the bickering
of the card players to whom I had given one week
of grace for final rounds of roodles, my nerves were
taut and jumpy. I ordered Swank to step aft and
fetch me a plug of A-P. He was gone an uncon-
scionable time and when he returned his face was
blanched with terror.

"The bin's empty, Sir," he repoited.

Empty!

I stared at him in amazement. Ear into the night
I went over my bills of lading promising myself a
thorough stock-taking in the morning.

But the disaffected element on board were ahead
of me. When I came on deck the following day,
they were grouped in the waist of the ship. The
only greeting I got was black looks. Bulky haver-
sacks and walking gear lay piled behind them.
Plock stepped forward and began speaking nerv-
ously and rapidly.

"Traprock," he said, "this is where we quit.
We've had enough of your damned seal-skin ship
and your pulling and hauling. Its dogs' work, not
men's. If you want to come with us, come. If
not, stay here and freeze to hell. We've taken our
share of the chow, and we're off. We can make
better time without you than with you."

216 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

I was unarmed and practically alone. The only
other man I could count on, on deck, was Whinney
and he was still half blind. But I did not hesitate
a second.

Reaching upward I grasped a heavy icicle which
hung from the main stay sail block and raised it
hicrh above mv head. "Mutiny!" I cried. Plock
dodged and treacherously thrust in front of him
Dane, who received the full force of the blow. At
the same instant the crack of a revolver rang out
and I fell senseless to the deck.

When I regained consciousness four hours later,
my first act was to stagger to my feet. The bullet
had inflicted only a bone-bruise, just grazing my
head, and thanks to Sausalito's prompt skill, I was
still alive. She, poor creature, in her humble way,
had shown naught but subservience since we had
started southward.

"Where are they? Did you get them?" I
shouted.

"No, sir," replied Triplett, shame-facedly.
"They got away. Took most 'er the grub, too.
You see we wuz unprepared. I was in my nighty."

"So was I," echoed Swank.

"Fools!" I blazed. "Idiots! Cowards! Follow
me."

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 217

It took their combined efforts to hold me in the
cabin. I was still too weak to put up much of a
fight. But the following morning we started.

Leaving Whinney alone, with instructions to
fire an answering signal if he heard our shots, I
divided our party into two groups. Dane, I might
mention, still lay senseless in the lazarette. Frissell
went with Triplett, Swank and Sausalito, who re-
fused to be left behind, accompanied me.

My instructions were to circle the Kawa with
a half mile radius increasing this distance each time
the two parties met. Five times this toilsome
operation was repeated. Hundreds of times I
paused to scan the horizon with my glasses. The
murky daylight, of which we were beginning to
have a scant two hours, was fading and I was in
despair. A short distance from the ship what there
had been of a trail became confused. The fugitives
appeared to have separated. Perhaps dissension as
to direction had already broken out. We stumbled
on in despair.

Suddenly a cry from Sausalito brought me up,
standing. Her sharp eyes had detected nearly a
mile away, a black figure moving across the ice,
the bulky form of Plock. He was running toward
a narrow lead of open water of which we had

218 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

encountered several on the previous day. I saw at
once that his plan was to leap the intervening water
and trust to the widening breach to cut off pursuit.
There was not an instant to lose.

Adjusting both hind and fore sights, I took care-
ful aim and fired.

He pitched forward in the act of jumping and
lay on the very edge of the floe. So great was the
impetus of his huge carcass, that, to my horror, I
saw his heavy pack slide over his head and dis-
appear into the inky waters. It sank instantly.
He was stone dead when we came up to him, his
body alreadjr rigid with cold.

"We shall have to take him back," I said. In my
mind was a fear, born of past experience, that we
might need him.

Dragging our loathsome burden we made a
slow trip toward the supposed location of the Kawa.
Black night had fallen and we could see nothing.
A fine snow set in. I at once fired the danger
signal and was immensely relieved to hear answer-
ing shots from a direction at right angles to that in
which we had been travelling. Such are the narrow
squeaks of polar travel.

We found that Triplett and Frissell had gotten
in before us bringing the half frozen Wigmore,

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 219

whom they had stumbled across by pure luck. He
was without supplies or oomiak and must have
perished in another five minutes. When he had
recovered sufficiently to speak he confirmed my
suspicions. Two hours out from the Kawa a bitter
quarrel had broken out and the deserters had sepa-
rated but not before Sloff and Plock had despoiled
him of his food and protecting garments. "Another
mouth to feed," I thought bitterly.

Sloff and Miskin were never heard of again.
Somewhere in the heart of the floe their bodies lie,
intact. But there can be no hell hot enough for
their souls.

Of our supplies were left two cases of herring
and a bale of shredded wheat, for seven men and
one woman.

Now if ever had come the time for me to prove to
my comrades the value of what the North had
previously taught me, namely, how to live off the
ice. As has been proven by travellers before me,
this can be done. But the reader is asked to re-
member that we had embarked on our cruise with no
suspicion that it would ever be necessary. Our
equipment was designed for a mode of life from

DIRTY WORK AT THE IGLOO?

No, there is really nothing wrong with this picture. Dr. Traprock
explains that a scene of this sort, while unusual is not extraordinary.

North of Eighty-six a man's rights are what he takes, a woman's
what she can get. The facts of this particular case are as follows:
Lapatok had captured a young pemmican in a snare of her own de-
vising. Unaware that she was being observed by the all-seeing eye
of her husband, Makuik, she began stripping off the bird's feathers
and scales (with which its underside is covered) with her teeth,
apparently preparatory to eating it. This is absolutely contrary to
Kryptok law. All food is the common property of the family and
must be instantly brought before the Aklok or Strong Man to be
cached by him in the community food bin. Failure to do this
means death.

Makuik was quick to act. The expression on his face leaves no
doubt that he would speedily have exacted the extreme penalty
(partial as he was to Lapatok) had she not been able, with her
next-to-last breath, to gasp out the time-honored words "Na-pok!" —
"our child."

In the few moments allowed her she explained that her inten-
tion had been merely to masticate the bird, giving the first share
to Kopek, her infant, who was at that very moment desperately
stricken with the teething-sickness, and bringing the remainder to
her lord and master. With true womanly ingenuity she likewise
pleaded that as the latest of Makuik's wives and a member of the
Klinka tribe she knew nothing of Kryptok law. She thus appealed
both to her husband's heart and head with the result that he let
her off with nothing more serious than a severe beating which was
terminated by the stern injunction, "Kapok Fakalok ook." — "A
woman's place is in the Igloo." The pemmican in the meanwhile es-
caped and may be seen as illustrated, winging his way out of focus.

As if touched by his wife's plea and anxious to re-establish both
her good-will and his own authority, Makuik later killed the fowl
on the wing with sling-dart thrown from a distance of forty salmon-
spears. (Approximately 280 ft.)

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 223

which only the treachery of a human element had
forced us to depart.

And now we were to experience that fatal lack
of living game which as I have noted, seems to
haunt the foot steps of the hunter to whom game
is a dreadful necessity. The season was still early
and bird life was practically extinct north of the
circle. Occasionally we sighted an isolated pemmi-
can or a tiny lapwing, too distant or too small to
be shot at. Our store of ammunition was much
too scarce to be wasted in pot shots. Of seals and
walruses we saw absolutely none.

Day after day, in the grisly dawn of the new
season, we crept on. Day after day we tightened
our belts and stared each other in the face. And in
the face of each stared a spectre more grisly still.

A few entries from my diary will best record the
harrowing tale of what followed.

"Feb. 23rd. Ate the last of herring this noon.
Reduced wheat ration to % cake for person.
Sorted extra clothing (Plock's) for possible food.

Feb. 27th. Shredded-wheat supply fast di-
minishing. S. busy all day cleaning Plock's oomiak
and leggins. Will it come to him?

March 3rd. Last of leggins for lunch. Whinney
slightly ill, but eyesight improving. A good day's

224 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

hauling. Crossed two open leads but saw no seal.

March 4th. A great day! Sighted seal herd
two miles away, the first we have seen on the floe.
Stalked them carefully, taking Frissell with me.
By "playing seal," yooping and crawling, suc-
ceeded in getting into the very center of herd where
we killed two with atomizers. A great saving of
ammunition. Seal gorge tonight.

March 5th. All hands ill.

March 6th. Same.

March 12th. Finished last of seal. Plock's
oomiak tomorrow.

March 14th. No food whatsoever. Very weak.

March 15th. Same. Weaker.

March 16th. (The writing is almost illegible)
Plock.

March 19th. Finished Plock. Tough, as
always."

March 20th dawned as a day of despair. My
companions, weakened by starvation, refused to
pull another ounce. We had come to a standstill.
Scarcely able to stand, desperate, but still unwilling
to admit myself beaten, I set forth alone.

Swank would have accompanied me but fell as
he attempted to climb down to the ice and was
unable to rise.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 225

"Don't go," he pleaded.

"Herman," I said, "if the Traprock expedition
perishes, Traprock will be the first man to go."

I wrung his hand and departed. Four miles
from the ship I fainted. Regaining consciousness
I crawled on, on my hands and knees. Another
spasm of dizziness seized me and I sank down to
rest. As I did so, a far-off sound reached me, the
faint roaring of a bull seal. Peering across the
floe I saw him dimly. He must have been slightly
over a mile away. At 6000 yards I fixed him
tremblingly on the crossed wires of my telescopic
sight. Even then his image was vague, but it was
now or never.

Bang! A louder roar reached me and I saw the
great brute raise himself convulsively. But would
he still escape me? No! He lay still.

When I reached him two hours later I saw, some-
what to my chagrin, why he had not moved. He
was a giant chap of the "phoca barbata" family,
the bearded seal. His beard was frozen in the ice.

My shot had been wasted.*

Fate seems sometimes to play her last trick on a

* On all my trips I have carried the gun I refer to, a Mannlicher-
Schopenhauer, 6 MM, extra heavy. There is nothing compares with
it for long range fire. W. E. T.

226 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

man and, finding she cannot down him, suddenly
gives up and turns to helping him. So it was in
my case.

Fortified by a draught of warm seal oil, which
was like nectar to my lips, I made my way back to
the Kawa with as much of the great carcass as I
could carry. The rest was speedily brought aboard.
The effect of the physical reinforcement was magi-
cal.

Not only did my comrades' spirits revive but such
minor ailments as had put in an appearance were
immediately dissipated. Triplett got well of a
touch of his old scurvy which had been bothering
him. Whinney's eyes cleared up completely and
Wigmore who had been quite daffy since his rescue,
became suddenly sane again and, I am glad to say,
devoutly thankful to me for having preserved him
from the fate of his companions.

The weather, too, favored us. Constantly in-
creasing light and rising temperature brought at
last the wonderful realization that we had entered
the zone of spring! Never did Spring dawn so
gloriously in my life.

Our progress was now rapid with the Tutbury
running magnificently on a mixture of whale and
seal oil, with both main and jigger drawing to a

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 227

quartering breeze, we were making approximately
twelve knots. A school of porpoises gambled about
us as merrily as if, as Frissell said, "school were
out!" Whales and walruses spouted under our
lee. The date was April third.

Sausalito, indomitable soul, who had never
faltered, had climbed to her favorite place in the
crow's nest. From this high perch I suddenly heard
her voice, shrill with excitement.

"Land ho! Land ho!"

A sturdy cheer went up to meet her and we all
scanned the low-lying cloud on the southern sky
line while Sausalito modestly descended.

It was indeed land. Eight hours later we
dropped anchor in a sheltered bay. The sun had
sunk below the horizon and violet dusk seemed to
rise from the still water.

Three miles away the lights of an eskimo village
twinkled through the haze and on the falling breeze
we caught the sound of the sweetest singing that
had ever fallen on human ears.

It was the song of the workers in the ice fields,
harvesting the new crop for our own America !

Chapter X

In home waters. The celebration in our honor.
And what of my companions? Reveries and
Recollections. The End.

229

Chapter X

The balance of my story is briefly told. On
April twenty-third, we picked up Fire Island light
and two hours later had received a clean bill of
health from the quarantine station.

The trip back through Baffin Bay had been un-
eventful. We had come as we had gone, in a direct
line. At Triplett's request we put in at St.
John's. He went ashore, taking Sausalito with him.
Late in the afternoon he returned, alone. His
stony eye forbade cross examination, but I ques-
tioned him that night in the cabin.

"She's went back to Californy" he said. "You
see, I got kinder tired of her. Besides I'm headin'
back ter Noo York."

Again his slow wink expressed volumes.

I have not seen that strange woman since. She
sends me a picture post card occasionally, usually
a winter scene, with mica snow. It is her inarticu-

231

THE CONSULTATION

Nothing was more characteristic of the candor and co-operative
spirit of the Commander of the Traprock Expedition than his con-
stant willingness to discuss matters with his fellow-travellers. One
of the most moot of all moot questions which frequently presented
itself was that of route. Having arrived at a certain or uncertain
point in the vast snowfields, someone was sure to ask, "Where do
we go from here?" or "Where do you think you are now?"

From the outset Dr. Traprock realized the desirability of an
answer to such interrogations. His experience during numerous
previous Arctic voyages convinced him that most of the bitterness of
feeling which almost inevitably disrupts polar-parties springs from
the unwillingness, to put it mildly, of the leader to satisfy the natural
curiosity of his men in this regard. In order to avoid this diffi-
culty he had carefully perpared maps showing the progiess made
during each day with the projected itinerary, points of interest, and
probable weather conditions. Colored crayons added a decorative
value to the charts.

We here see him explaining to Wigmore, the somewhat belligerent
snow-and-ice-expert, the proposed return route. Instead of confus-
ing the rather unscientific man with a mass of latitudinal and longi-
tudinal figures, the Doctor states the whole matter clearly by saying,
"We simply follow the green line."

The fatal results of disregarding this injunction are embodied in
the text. Needless to say they fully prove the value of the Com-
mander's cartographical skill. An interesting sidelight is the fact
that their daily charts were equally accurate when based on solar
observation or during the long Arctic night when the only basis
of authority was Captain Triplett's amazing bump of locality,
which was about the size of a hen's-egg.

A Consultation

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 235

late way of asking forgiveness for the blow she
dealt me.

Just inside the three mile limit we were boarded
by revenue officers from the patrol boat, W. H.
Anderson. They made a careful search for
liquor.

"Back to abnormalcy!" carped Swank who was
panting to get ashore.

My wires from Grant Land (via Indian runners
to Moose Factory) had warned the scientific world
of our arrival. Further details, giving brief ac-
counts of the deaths of Plock, Miskin and Sloff had
been telegraphed from St. John's.

The same gala array and marine salutation which
had sped our departure welcomed our return. But
it was with a heavy heart that I stepped on the
Yacht Club landing stage. My mysterious orders
were still to be explained, orders which, had they
reached me when intended, would have brought me
ignominiously home, empty of honors and achieve-
ment.

A number of strange faces surrounded me in the
club room among which I recognized Harris, thi
E.U. secretary, "Harmless" Harris we used to call
him.

"Where is Waxman?" I asked coldly.

236 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

A shadow of pain flitted across his face.

"Of course," he murmured. "You haven't
heard ... it was very sudden . . . poor Wax-
man . . . heart failure, you know . . . the day
after we heard of your safe arrival."

So my old friend Waxman was gone. With the
receipt of this news I instantly dismissed all unkind
thoughts I may have had of this benevolent old
man. As I look at his photograph now, on my
mantelpiece, bland and serene, it seems to breathe
a benediction upon me. The pleading look in his
eyes seems still to ask for peanuts. May I cherish
always, as he did, a love for other explorers and an
interest in their exploits.

If anything was calculated to further soften my
heart it was the more joyous occasion which fol-
lowed, the grand banquet given in my honor at
the Hotel Commodore. That entire, mighty hive
hummed with explorers and noted travellers. Over-
flow meetings were held in the Biltmore, Yale Club,
Grand Central Station and on nearby subway
platforms.

The scene in the ballroom beggared description.
On the dais with me sat representatives of all the
National scientific bodies and distinguished guests
from abroad. Publishers, artists and editors were

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 237

present by the hundreds. Famous actors forced
their way to my chair, above which blossomed the
words "Traprock must be true" done in thousands
of Bougainvilias and snowdrops.

The colleges of the country had sent their delega-
tions, my own Alma Mater surpassing all with a
group of two hundred bright-faced lads whose
merry songs and cheers made the welkin ring.
They had come by special train from New Haven,
accompanied by members of the faculty, for whom
the affair was a great junket, you may be sure.
Harvard stood officially aloof owing to their recent
ban on Eskimos, but the great sister university, as
well as Princeton, was represented by individuals
who made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in
numbers.

When my brothers in the Phi Chapter of D.K.E.
arose and sang our fraternal anthem I felt obliged
to remain seated. Let me here explain that curious
action. It was because my mind went back to that
period of terrific strain when I had actually eaten
a Brother!

But the thing which touched me most deeply* was

* Excepting, perhaps, the long telegram from my old friend Capt.
Peter Fitzurse, explaining that he was unavoidably detained cor-
recting the proof of his forthcoming autobiography. See appendix
for further light on Fitzurse's claim that the three fingers missing

238 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

the presence, at adjoining tables of the combined
Boards of Trade of Derby and Shelton, sister
cities of the Housatonic, and the Derby Fencibles,
forty strong, accompanied by their fife and drum
corps wearing the old continental uniforms. My
eyes dimmed as I thought of the stirring times when
I had stepped to that same inspiring music, as we
practised our secret marches back of the old Ster-
ling Melodeon factory.

The chairman of the evening was my lifelong
friend Irving T. Grosbeak, R.O.T.C. who was in-
troduced by Luther Slattin the new president of
the E.U. Other addresses were made by Professor
Phineas A. Crutch,* F.P.A., S.O.S., Col. Wood-
wark of the Canadian Mounted and Lord Beaver-
board of the South African Game Commission.
The principal forensic display was by Ex-
senator Wicklefield of Wyoming whom Dr. Gros-
beak characterised brilliantly as "The Aurora
Borealis of Oratory, the most dependable geyser in
the world since Old Faithful blew up and became
a brook."

But the climax of the evening came when an old

from his right hand actually were frozen off when he grasped the
North Pole. W. E. T.
♦Author of "The Queen of Sheba."

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 239

man in a red shirt and fire helmet tottered to my
side and with tears streaming down his face,
quavered, "The world may claim Walter Traprock
but we own him."

It was old "Shelly" Smith of Naugatuck Hose
Co. No. 1. His father used to spade our garden.

Of course I was called upon for a speech but for
the first time in my life I begged to be excused.
My heart was too full. Captain Triplett stood up
in my place and embarrassed me by pointing his
horny finger in my direction and saying repeatedly,
"He done it."

Grammatical errors in public always annoy
me.

The rest is history. I shall never return to the
North. I feel that I have seen all that it can offer.
My work in that direction is done.

Of those who returned with me all but one has
carved his niche in the rocks of time. The excep-
tion is Dane, who has never fully recovered from
the blow dealt him, by my arm indeed, but due to
the cowardly shove of Plock. His work in com-
parative ethnology, however, was accomplished
before he was stricken. His object in making the
trip was to discover the similarities, if any, between
the surviving Eskimo tribes and the early civiliza-

240 MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE

tion of the Nile dynasties. The only entry I find
in his note books is the rather pathetic one "no
report."

He is now occupying a comfortable room in the
Shadyside Retreat, Walnut st., Philadelphia, where
he busies himself cutting out paper dolls of
Egyptian character, and where I occasionally visit
him.

Frissell remains the same blithe spirit as ever.
The horrors of our return voyage left no more last-
ing impression on this debonair youth than a
passing fit of seasickness.

Swank and Whinney naturally show spiritual
scars, especially the latter, though he is greatly
cheered by the royalties received from the sale
of his sprightly journal, written in total darkness.*
My two close companions and I, with the occasional
addition of Triplett when we can lure him from
his own diggings often dine together at a cosy
little tea house in Forty-fifth Street. There we
plan new ventures and discuss the old. What stir-
ring memories flock about us, what tender visions
neath Tropic sun and Arctic stars!

Kippiputuona, Babai, Ikik, Lapatok, their

♦Light on the Pole, by R. Whinney. $5.00 net, $4.50 in lots of
six. Post. prep. Intr. by Prof. C. Towne, Nyack University.

MY NORTHERN EXPOSURE 241

names are a sentimental rosary, a succession of
lovely chords, lost chords, but, let us hope, not the
last!

At a recent meeting the recollection of Whin-
ney's affliction evoked from him this brave
comment.

"Just think!" he mused, "to love a woman, to lose
her, and to never see her."

"Whinney," I said, raising my glass in his
direction, "there is more in life than merely
seeing."

APPENDIX

In reference to a note on page 180, it seems de-
sirable to reprint below (1) a paragraph which
recently appeared in a New York newspaper over
the signature of Don Marquis, and (2) a copy of
the letter written by Dr. Traprock to Mr. Marquis
clearing up the point in question. Ed.

A great deal of doubt is cast by his strange
reticences upon the recent claim of Dr. Walter
E. Traprock that he reached the North Pole. Did
he, or did he not, find three fingers at the Pole which
were frozen off of the hand of Capt. Peter Fitzurse
when the Captain grasped the Pole, more than forty
years ago, being the first man to lay his hand upon
it? If he did not find these fingers, he did not reach
the Pole. If he found them, and has said nothing
about it, his object in concealing the fact can be
nothing else than an unworthy jealousy. Who is
this Traprock, anyhow? Capt. Fitzurse intimates

243

244 APPENDIX

that at the proper time he has startling revelations
to make. It is significant that Traprock was first
heard of a year or two after Dr. Cook ceased to
figure in the public prints.

On Board "Kawa"
Peck's Slip, N. Y.
July 21, 1922.

Don Marquis, Esq.
Park Row,
New York City.

Dear Sir: —

A number of my friends have called my attention
to recent remarks published over your signature
which by insinuation cast a veil of ambiguity over
my identity. I am not used to having veils cast over
me and I resent the practice.

"Who is this person, Traprock?" you ask. "Has
he ever been to the North Pole?"

Let the ice-bergs answer! Let the Polar-pack
groan its reply. I scorn to.

You also ask if by any chance I discovered three
fingers frozen to the Pole. I did find three fingers
not frozen to the Pole, but preserved in an other-
wise empty gin bottle. They were cached in a rude

APPENDIX 245

cairn, mute memorials of some brave man who had
ventured north of eighty-six. Of course I at once
thought of my friend Fitzurse. Could they be his?
The nails were not black enough, but I could not
be sure.

I took them with me to the Pole, purposing to
leave them with my records, but my plans were
modified by the extraordinary attraction which the
fingers had for Ikik, Snak and Yalok, three Eskimo
women whom I found living at the Pole, or to be
exact, under it.

How, finally, to preserve peace I divided the
fingers giving one to each to wear as a talisman is
an enlivening memory. A few days later, noticing
that Ikik was not wearing her finger I questioned
her as to its whereabouts. "Me eat" she said. The
others had done likewise. I trust that any doubts
you may have had in regard to my identity etc. will
be dissipated by these circumstantial details.

Yours,

Walter E. Traprock

The
Cruise of the Kawa

By

Dr. Walter E. Traprock,

F. R. S. S. E. U.

A delicious literary burlesque — superlatively
amusing. Here are found the wak'wak, that
horrid super-seamonster ; the gallant fatwliva
birds who lay square eggs; the flowing hoopa
bowl, and the sensuous nabiscus plant; the
tantalizing, tatooing, fabulous folk music; the
beautiful, trusting Filbertine women and then-
quaint marriage customs, as well as the dread
results of the white man's coming — all described
with a frank freedom, literary charm and meticu-
lous regard for truth which is delightful.

The Cruise of the Kawa stands unique among
the literature of modern exploration. Nothing
like it has ever come out of the South Seas. It
is the travel book of years. Strikingly illustrated,
too, from special photographs, it tells pictorially,
as well as verbally, the exciting, amusing and
entertaining story of an exploration in the South
Seas.

G. P. Putnam's Sons

New York London

200 W:

■- •