_MEETING WITH NATIVES._
Borne down by the river we had launched on the bosom of Aberdeen Lake
without effort, but not so easy a matter was it to find our way out.
With the hope of saving unnecessary search, it was resolved to climb to
the top of a hill not far back from shore, and view the country with our
field-glasses.
From the summit, which was found by the aneroid to be four hundred
feet above the lake, we obtained a magnificent view of the surrounding
country, and from the base of the hill could clearly trace the course of
the river, winding away to the northward. While my brother and I were
thus engaged in viewing and sketching the country, hammering the rocks,
tracing the lines of ancient sea-beaches, etc., which were here clearly
defined at no less than seven different elevations, varying from 60 to
290 feet above the surface of the lake, the men were usefully employed in
collecting black moss, which in this neighborhood was found in abundance.
Since entering the lake nothing more had been seen of the drift-wood, but
on our return from the hill in the evening we found camp already pitched,
and near it a big kettle of venison simmering over a fire of moss. More
than this, some flour, a little of which still remained, had been baked
into grease cakes by John, and with these, the venison and hot tea, we
enjoyed one of the heartiest meals of our lives.
On the morning of the 29th, enshrouded by a dense fog, we entered the
river, and though for a time we could see neither bank, we knew our
course from my sketch made on the hill-top. Later in the day the weather,
clearing, enabled us at noon, as we entered the west end of Schultz Lake
(so called in honor of the late Lieutenant-Governor of Manitoba), to
ascertain our latitude, which was 64° 43′ north. Along the north shore of
this lake extended a high range of rocky, snow-clad hills, from four to
five hundred feet in height. The south shore was also bold and rocky, but
of considerably less elevation.
The next day the old story of looking for the “hole” out of the lake was
repeated. At noon, while lunch was being prepared, my brother climbed a
hill on the south shore, and from its summit discovered the outlet, four
or five miles distant on the opposite side.
As soon as possible after my brother’s descent we started straight across
on our course for the river. Light wolfy clouds were already scudding
across the sky, and after them dark masses began to roll up from the
horizon and soon overshadowed us. We were evidently in for a blow, and
in order to avoid being overtaken on the open lake, every man exerted
himself to the utmost. No sooner had we reached shore than the storm
burst upon us, but once in the river channel we were able to obtain
shelter from the force of the gale if not from the pelting rain.
We had now reached the second of two points of highest latitude attained
on our journey, namely 64° 48′ north. This as a high latitude does not,
of course, amount to anything, but the attainment of a high latitude was
not an object of our expedition, though scores of times the question has
been asked of me, “How far north did you get?”
At this entrance to the river a large area of highly glaciated granitic
rocks was observed, and the channel was well formed and deep. Both banks
were high and rocky, and the current swift. Notwithstanding the weather
our canoes were kept in the stream, though it was with difficulty I was
able to carry on the survey and keep my notes.
About seven miles down stream a very rocky rapid was discovered. On
examination we found it could be run for a considerable distance, and
that for the remaining distance only a short portage would have to be
made.
The contents of the canoes being all safely landed below the rapids, they
themselves were run down by the Iroquois through the foaming waters. Had
it not been for our good steersman Pierre many and many a rapid through
which our little crafts were guided in safety would have caused us much
laborious portaging. If a rapid could be run at all in safety, Pierre had
the skill and nerve to do it. During the scores of times that he piloted
our little fleet through foaming waters, I believe I am correct in saying
that his canoe never once touched a rock; but that is more than can be
said of those who followed him.
After reloading the canoes we sped down with the current at a rate of
about eight miles an hour, with the wind beating the cold rain and the
spray from the crest of the waves in our faces, our only consolation
was that we were making miles on the journey. The shores continued to
be bare steep walls of rock; not a shrub was anywhere to be seen. About
twelve miles below Schultz Lake we decided to camp. Tents were pitched,
and within them our soaked and shivering party sought comfort. Little,
however, was to be found, for the wind, which continued to increase in
violence, drove the rain through our shelters, saturating the blankets
and making us generally miserable. The morning brought no improvement,
for the storm still continued.
It was impossible to make a fire, supposing moss or other fuel could
have been found, for they would have been saturated with water. A little
alcohol still remaining, tea was boiled with it, and dried venison
completed our menu. As those who have used it well know, this description
of meat is not the most palatable. It is good strong, portable food, but
may be better compared to sole leather than any article of diet.
By the morning of the first of September the rain had ceased and the
clouds partially cleared away. The gale, however, still continued to blow
so fiercely as to frequently whip clouds of spray off the surface of the
river, so that we were quite unable to travel in canoes.
On the following morning, the wind having fallen sufficiently, the
canoes were again pushed into the current, and we glided down stream,
in a south-easterly direction, at the rate of seven miles an hour. The
channel was deep and about three hundred yards in width, while the banks,
continuing to be bold and high, were formed of dark Huronian schists and
clay. The schists were chiefly micaceous and hornblendic, such as those
occurring about the Lake of the Woods, and were found dipping at high
angles.
Four or five miles to the east was a conspicuous range of snow-covered
hills, probably six hundred feet in height, while between them and the
river appeared a broad plateau, or a high level lake—which of the two we
could not determine from the river bank. Time would not permit of our
making side investigations when it was possible to be travelling, so on
we sped, pulling at the paddles as well as being hurried along by the
current. Thus for a time we made good progress, and as the long miles
were quickly passed the spirits of our little party were cheered.
Late in the forenoon, as we were rounding a bend in the river, an Eskimo
in his kyack was sighted ahead, and much to our amusement he was soon
much farther ahead. The poor fellow, seeing our fleet of canoes, and
being himself alone, evidently thought his safest move was to get out
of the way, and this he did, leaving us farther behind at every stroke,
though we were doing our best to catch him.
I shouted to him in his native tongue, but it was of no use; he did
not slacken his pace until, some distance down the river, he reached
an Eskimo encampment of several topicks. Here he landed, hauled up his
kyack, and informed the other natives of our approach. All eyes keenly
watched us. As we drew nearer they soon observed by our canoes and
personal appearance that we were not Indians, as they had supposed, but
were “Kudloonahs” (white men), the friends of the Eskimos. I shouted to
them, “_Chimo! Kudloonah uvagut peeaweeunga tacko Enuit._” To this they
responded with cheers and wild gesticulations, and as we landed we were
received with hand-shaking and great rejoicing. None showed the least
sign of hostility. Indeed the ladies exhibited an embarrassing amount
of cordiality, so much so that it was thought wise to make our visit as
brief as possible. Having “greeted all the brethren,” I proceeded to
obtain what information I could from them regarding our road to the sea,
and was much pleased to learn that we were close to the mouth of the
river. I also obtained a sketch map of our course thence to the “sea” or
Hudson Bay. There was now no doubt as to the route. We were to reach the
Bay through Chesterfield Inlet, which was now not far distant, and at
this certain knowledge we felt much encouraged. Besides this information,
several skins were obtained from the natives, some skin clothing and a
few trinkets. One very old man of the camp asked to be given a passage
down the river a few miles to another native village. Placing him in our
third or freighting canoe, and accompanied by an escort of three kyacks,
we departed, amid a generous exchange of salutes.
We were pleased to learn from the natives that there were no more rapids
or obstructions to be encountered. As we proceeded, however, we found
the current both strong and swift, and quite rough in some places, but
the Eskimos in their kyacks shot ahead from time to time and showed us
the best channels. Sometimes they fell behind, evidently for the sake of
having the opportunity of showing how quickly they could repass. Just as
we had been able to paddle around the Indians in their bark canoes, so
were these little fellows able to paddle around us. Soon after leaving
the Eskimo camp we went ashore. The river bank here was abrupt and high,
in the neighborhood of one hundred feet, and on the side of this steep
bank several new species of plants were collected. Marine shells and marl
were also found thirty feet above the river, while on the top of the
bank some Eskimo graves were discovered. Out of consideration for our
native escorts, the graves, already broken by bears or wolves, were not
molested. When lunch was announced, and we, seating ourselves, proceeded
to work with the customary plates, knives and forks, the Eskimos were
very much amused, and stood watching our operations with great interest.
Some refreshments were offered them, but to our surprise they declined,
informing us that they had plenty of meat. For their own lunch they each
took a lump of raw venison and a drink of water from the river, a very
simple but no doubt wholesome meal.
Before re-embarking I secured several good photographs of the Eskimos.
At first they were not prepared to be “shot” by the camera, but after
explaining what I wished to do, they were pleased and amused to have
their pictures taken, and changed their positions when I asked them to
do so. By the time we had descended eight or ten miles farther down the
river, our native escorts commenced cheering, hallooing and acting in
a most hilarious manner. At first we wondered what had possessed them,
but the cause of their strange actions was soon disclosed as we switched
around a bend in the river and found ourselves close upon a large Eskimo
village. As we pulled ashore this time there was no need of introducing
ourselves. Our coming and our character had already been lustily
proclaimed from half a mile or so up the river until the time of landing,
so that we were received with great demonstrations.
[Illustration: ESKIMO HUNTERS.]
[Illustration: GROUP OF ESKIMOS.]
Upon going ashore one of the first objects which attracted my attention
was a small topick, or lodge, constructed of beautiful musk-ox robes.
I felt inclined to doubt my own eyes, for it seemed such a strange
waste of luxury. I proceeded to this princely dwelling, and finding the
owners—three young brothers—entered into negotiations with them for its
purchase. The value asked in exchange for the robes being very moderate,
they were secured and made into a snug little bale. Next my attention
was drawn to a pile of skins lying on the rocks. As I approached these
skins, several Eskimos sat upon them, telling me as they did so that the
owner of them was away hunting, and therefore I could not buy them. I
assented, but asked to be allowed to look at them. Even this, however,
was stoutly refused, as the owner was not present. I could not help
admiring these fellows for their fidelity to one of their number. Some
time was then spent in collecting information about the country, and in
purchasing nicknacks of one kind and another, and while doing so the
owner of the skins returned. He at once proceeded to open up his furs,
which, with the exception of one wolf skin, were all musk-ox robes, but
of inferior quality. The four best skins were picked out and reserved,
and the frowsy remnant then offered to us. The poor skins, I told him,
were not the ones we wanted, but for a time he positively refused to sell
the good ones. After a little discussion, however, the crafty hunter came
to the conclusion that he wanted a small kettle and some gun-caps (for he
had an old gun), and so offered me one of the skins for these articles.
We happened to have a kettle in which we had carried our butter, but
which had now become only an article of extra baggage, so after some
“serious consideration,” I concluded to let him have the kettle and some
caps for the skin.
It was then my turn to make him an offer. I produced a telescope, a
jack-knife, and an old shirt, and offered them for the three remaining
robes. The temptation proved too great; the skins were handed over,
and the telescope, knife and shirt accepted with great delight and
many thanks. Although it was now time to camp, and many pressing
invitations were extended to us to spend the night at the village, it
was thought wisest for the moral well-being of our party not to do so.
Besides this, the surface of the country in the neighborhood of the
village was exceedingly rough, being formed entirely of boulders. The
Eskimo topicks were pitched upon the rocky shore, and it was thought we
might find smoother ground. Before leaving the village one old Eskimo
surprised us very much by making a remark in English. I said to him, “Oh!
you understand English,” whereat he made the amusing reply, “No, me no
understand English.” I tried then to find out from the old man where he
had learned to speak our language, but the only reply I could get from
him was that he had always been able to speak it. It may be that he had
accompanied Sir George Back, Sir John Richardson, or Dr. Ray, on one of
their Franklin search expeditions, or perhaps he had come from Hudson
Bay, where he had been associated with some of the American whalers who
frequent its waters.
Followed by many hearty cheers and “tabowetees” (farewells), we parted
from our new but warm-hearted friends. As before, we were accompanied by
an escort of kyacks, but after a time they fell behind and returned to
the village.
As we had been informed by the natives, so we soon found, we were at last
at the mouth of the great Telzoa, and gradually as we passed out into the
broad shallow delta and gazed over the deep blue limitless waters beyond,
the gratifying fact forced itself upon us that we had accomplished what
we had started out to do, viz., to explore a route through the heart of
the Barren Lands, where certainly no other white men, if indeed Indians
or Eskimos, had ever passed. We were still, of course, a long way from
being out of the Barren Land country, but once on the waters of Baker
Lake, as we now were, the remainder of the road was to some extent known
to us.
Before proceeding further with my narrative, I shall digress a little,
believing that the reader will be interested by some particulars
concerning the Eskimos. Having in former expeditions spent nearly two
years among these people, I had abundant opportunity for studying their
habits and customs of life. Some of the observations thus made I shall
record in the next two chapters.
[Illustration: ICELANDIC SETTLER.]
[Illustration: AN ESKIMO. ESKIMO WOMAN.]