MORE BEARS
September second we were working down the eastern coast of Baffin
Island, intending to cross over Baffin Bay toward Holsteinsborg to get
the Hobbs party. There was no ice to speak of, only a few scattered
bergs, and the weather continued to be pretty nice, sunny and quite
warm, which was very unusual for this time of year.
Just at seven o’clock in the morning Dad woke me up and said that there
were three bears on a small berg near us. Ralph and Jim, the same watch
that discovered the first bear, had seen them. All hands turned out so
we would not miss the fun.
Carl was getting his rope ready while Art got out his bow and arrows
for the hunt. No guns were to be used. Dad wanted to have this entirely
a stunt for the bow and the roping, and for motion pictures. Kellerman
had his two big motion picture cameras on deck, and a good many of the
crowd were using their still cameras. Also Bob Peary had a small movie
camera but he was on watch in the engine room so I ran it for him the
best I could!
The Morrissey went right up close to the berg and we got a lot of
pictures. There was a big mother bear and two cubs which had been born
about February, they told me. They were pretty big and husky and
weighed probably more than 150 pounds each. It was queer to see the
bear away out here in the water, nearly twenty miles from land. But
later Mr. Rasmussen told us often they travel hundreds of miles almost
all the way in the water. Swimming seems to be about as easy for them
as walking. Cap’n Bob has found them swimming away down off the
Labrador.
As we got close the old bear walked right down to the water’s edge with
the two cubs following. We headed away from the berg and swung around
to leeward to let them calm down. That seemed to satisfy them. Perhaps
they thought the ship was just a big dirty piece of ice.
Anyway, they went back up on the ice and settled down. The two cubs lay
down close to the mother, and Harry, looking through the glasses, said
he could see that they were getting their breakfast.
When we came close again for Art to get a bow and arrow shot the old
bear got really worried and made for the water. They swam off in a row
that looked like three butter balls, the old one first and the two
little ones trailing. They are not really quite white, but seem to be
sort of yellowish, almost butter color, especially when just their
heads show in the water. Their black noses show out more than anything
and their eyes.
We came within thirty feet of them in the Morrissey two or three times,
taking pictures. The mother bear would turn around and growl at us, and
sort of grunt to the children to hustle along and get away from this
strange creature that was following them.
We wanted to get them back on the berg, if possible, so we put a dory
over with Carl in it and rowed by Ralph and Joe, to try to herd them
toward the ice again. Several times after a lot of trouble they got
them headed back near the ice but they wouldn’t go up on it again. It
was a queer game of tag.
In the meantime Jim on board was working on a rough cage for the cubs
because Dad had decided to get them alive if it were possible to take
them home to the Bronx Zoo at New York. At first they were going to let
me shoot one as I did want to get a bear quite by myself. But I agreed
that it would be a lot better to get them alive if possible. It happens
that in 1910 Cap’n Bob up right near here captured the huge polar bear
that has been at the Zoo ever since, “Silver King.” He died last year.
Art got out on the bowsprit with his bow and arrows and a file with
which he gave the big two-inch steel blades of the arrows a last
sharpening.
Kellerman, at his camera, asked Art if he was ready. Art said he was
all ready. So Cap’n Bob took the vessel right up close to them again.
The first time Art couldn’t shoot because one of the cubs was swimming
almost on top of the big bear. So we made another circle and came up on
them again. It was a lot of trouble, because there was quite a rough
swell and for the camera fixed up at the bow on the starboard side you
had to get the vessel into position pretty exactly.
Art fired his big bow. By the way, it’s got about a ninety-five pound
pull which means it’s all a very strong man can do to even get the
string back and the bow bent, far less aim it and all that. I can’t
even bend the bow half way. I’ve seen Art put the arrows through
two-inch planks of soft wood.
The first two arrows hit the big bear in the back. It was a hard mark,
just the neck and a bit of body showing in the water, and Art standing
in a mean place on the bowsprit, and the boat rolling a good deal.
The bear turned around and roared and sort of cuffed at one of the cubs
who was close. On the next circle Art used two more arrows and I guess
one went into her pretty deep. She bled a lot and her head went under
the water. Then she came up and kind of rubbed noses with the cubs and
then her head dropped again. She was dead. And I guess it was the first
time a polar bear ever has been killed with a bow and arrow, certainly
since the days when the Eskimos used primitive weapons.
The cubs stayed around the body until Carl in the dory came up close.
Then they swam off, barking like a whole kennel of dogs. We hoisted the
big bear on board and covered her with a tarp. Then we started after
the cubs, and it was about the most exciting thing I think I have ever
seen, and an awful lot of fun.
Carl sort of wedged himself up in the bow of the dory, which was
bobbing around a lot in the swell, and the men rowed him towards the
cubs as the Morrissey worked in close where Kel could get the pictures.
The very first shot Carl got his bear. He swung his rope about his head
in the air and let it go. The noose fell as fine as could be right
around the cub’s head. It was a great show. The folks back in
Pendleton, Oregon, who sent us that rope for Carl would have been
tickled to death. And right there Dad said we would call one of the
cubs “Cowboy.” The first one was to be named “Cap’n Bob.”
The little bear didn’t know what had happened until they began pulling
him in. Then he commenced growling and snarling and barking. When Carl
got him alongside the dory he chewed at the rope and scratched and tore
at the boat and at Carl and tried to climb aboard. He certainly was
full of fight. One clean swipe from his claw would be enough to rip an
arm off, I suppose. Carl wore heavy gloves and leather wristlets.
When the bear tried to climb in Carl would bat him in the face with his
hand or pry his paws off the gunwale. He bit at Carl and was real
snooty. It was a great party. After a while, when he had towed the dory
about a bit, Carl managed to get a rope sling down around his body
behind his shoulders, and with this he was hoisted aboard with a
tackle.
Coming up and on deck he bit everything he could get at and tried to
tear the sails he reached, and generally raised Ned. We hoisted him up
in the air and with a smaller rope sort of led and dragged him forward
to the cage which was on the port side of the ship by the bow. We had
to lift him over the jumbo and lower him on the other side into the
entrance of his cage.
On the way he knocked down the galley stove pipe. Then we put a line
around one of his front paws and then put the line under the bottom of
the cage and pulled down on it for all we were worth. We got his head
down in that way and then we all had to push his hind quarters. After
about half an hour we had him in the cage.
Then Carl went out and roped the other cub, who had swam away about a
quarter of a mile. This one we got over on top of the cage all right
but then when Will was standing up leaning on the jumbo boom the bear
jumped right up at him and Will just got away in time. The bear landed
just where he had been. It was very close. We got him in the cage the
same as the other one.
We gave them a duck and to our surprise they ate it all up in a minute.
It is very unusual for an animal to eat so soon after he is in
captivity. They must have been pretty hungry on that berg. We thought
we would see how they liked the dog food we had on board, in cans. It’s
called Ken-l-Rations and is pretty good stuff even for men. The Eskimos
North liked it a lot. Well, our bears just loved it. They actually will
bite chunks of it off a big spoon which Carl holds through the side of
the cage. Dad has asked him to look after “Cap’n Bob” and “Cowboy.”
And that really ended the expedition. Of course there was plenty more,
and it was a month before we got home.
After getting the bear cubs we went across Baffin Bay to Holsteinsborg
and picked up the Hobbs party. Then we started home. And the first day
out we dropped our tail shaft and propeller, a third of the way across
Davis Strait. That meant we had to go the rest of the distance to
Sydney without any engine. We made those 1400 miles with sails alone,
and we had a couple of grand gales and a real hard time getting through
Belle Isle Straits and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, what with fogs and
head winds. It took 15 days of sailing. But it was sort of a fine way
to finish up a trip on a vessel which was really meant for sails alone
before we put in the engine.
And this, now that I’m back from Greenland, I’m writing on the
Morrissey as we’re in sight of Cape Breton Island. And it all will be
sent down by railroad from Sydney and perhaps the little book will be
about ready by the time we’re back home—which is a pretty good place to
be!