_DOWN TO THE SEA._
Baker Lake, about seventy miles in length and perhaps half that in
breadth, was originally discovered and rudely mapped by one Captain
Christopher, about the year 1770. In searching for the North-West Passage
he sailed into it with two small vessels from Hudson Bay, passing _en
route_ through Chesterfield Inlet and the two rivers flowing into it from
Baker Lake. Having with us a copy of Captain Christopher’s map, though
of a very sketchy character, it afforded us some information as to our
future course.
Since leaving the shores of Black Lake we had traversed to this point a
distance of just eight hundred and ten miles, through an entirely unknown
country. We had occupied more time in doing so than we had expected, on
account of the extraordinary character of the weather, but, however, on
this evening of the 2nd of September we found ourselves at the mouth of
“the great river flowing to the northward,” as described by the Black
Lake Indians.
From our astronomical observations and survey it was found that the
extremity of the lake as determined by Christopher, and as located on the
existing maps of Canada, was nine miles too far south and about fifty
miles too far west. At the mouth of the river the water was found to be
shallow—in some places not more than three or four feet in depth—and
for some distance out into the lake shoals were observed. Small sailing
vessels or York boats would, however, have no difficulty in getting in,
but it would be difficult to take the former any great distance up the
river on account of the rapids. Large properly constructed river boats
might be taken up stream without difficulty for a distance of 150 miles
to the confluence of the west branch, and how far they might be able
to ascend that large stream it is impossible for me to say. With the
exception of perhaps one spot—the canyon rapid north of Tobaunt Lake—I
believe the whole river from the Height of Land to Baker Lake might be
navigated by river or York boats with comparative ease. At the rapid a
portage could be made or possibly a navigable channel might be discovered.
I think it important to mention the above possibilities of access to
this country, on account of the fact that from Tobaunt Lake to Baker
Lake there stretches an extended area of promising mineral-bearing
Huronian schists and trappean rocks, a series precisely similar to the
silver, copper and gold bearing rocks of the north shore of Lake Superior
and Lake of the Woods districts. The time must come—it may not be far
distant—when the prospector and the miner will occupy all this vast field
of mineral wealth.[4]
From the head of Baker Lake we were now to commence a new stage of the
journey. The rough maps we had enabled us to form a fair idea of what
lay ahead. From our camp to the mouth of Chesterfield Inlet on the coast
of Hudson Bay measured about 250 miles, and thence down the coast of the
Bay to Fort Churchill, a Hudson’s Bay Company’s post and the nearest
habitation of white men, measured 500 more; so that 750 miles was the
least distance we had to figure on travelling in canoes before the close
of navigation.
It was now the month of September, and as winter is known to set in in
the vicinity of Hudson Bay during October, my brother and I felt that our
time must be employed to the very best advantage. The weather had been
extremely adverse all summer, but it was now liable to be more so. Within
the course of two or three weeks the equinoctial gales might be expected.
The tides also would be a new feature of difficulty.
In consideration of these prospects, and in order to stimulate the men
to greater exertions, it was thought best to explain our position to
them, for up to this time they had little idea as to where they were,
whether in the vicinity of the North Pole or within a few days’ travel
of civilization. The effect produced by thus informing the canoemen was
as desired. They resolved as one man to make longer days and put forth
greater exertion.
Before daylight on the morning of the 3rd, camp was aroused by the sound
of many voices, and a few minutes later, before we had turned out from
our blankets, the door of the tent was pulled half open and two or three
black burly heads with grinning faces were poked in. They were those of
some of our friends from the Eskimo village who had come over to pay us
an early morning call, before we should finally leave their shores. They
all held in their hands nicknacks of one kind or another which they were
anxious to trade, chiefly for needles, and some would have come in and
made themselves at home had I not dismissed them until we were dressed
and ready to do business at a little greater distance from our blankets,
which we were desirous should be inhabited only by ourselves. Later, a
few fishing-lines, spoons and such trifles were purchased.
As soon as possible, the wind happily being fair, our canoes were loaded,
and with many “tabowetings” to the natives and a hurrah for Baker Lake,
we started out to the eastward along the north shore. But soon the wind
grew strong and caused such a high sea to run that we were forced to seek
shelter, which we found in the mouth of a small river. We had then made
fourteen miles. Here we waited, hoping that toward evening the wind might
moderate, but on the contrary it grew worse, so on the lee-side of a
bluff point camp was pitched to afford us shelter from the cold piercing
blast. A high wind continued all night and during the following day, when
it was accompanied by snow and sleet. The temperature was so low that the
fresh-water ponds were frozen over. Such a condition of climate, together
with a small and rapidly diminishing stock of provisions, made us chafe
at the delay; but on the morning of the 5th we were enabled to launch,
and during the day made a good run of about forty miles. The shore of
the lake consisted chiefly of Laurentian rock, from 150 to 300 feet in
height, but at some places broad low flats and long points of sand and
boulders separated the hills from the water.
During the afternoon of the 6th, the northerly of the two rivers
discharging the waters of Baker Lake was discovered. The approach to it
is well marked on the north bank by a round bluff some two hundred feet
in height. At first no current could be observed in the river, which, in
reality, was a deep narrow fiord, but when we had advanced a distance
of about two miles a stiff current, almost approaching a rapid, was
met; but instead of moving with us, as would naturally be expected, it
was flowing to the westward. At first sight it caused some doubts as to
whether we were on the right road. The canoemen were all persuaded that
we were ascending some big river and would have at once turned back, but
concluding that we had already reached tide water, though sooner than
we had expected, we pulled on, and before long witnessed the seemingly
strange phenomenon of a river changing its direction of flow.
So smooth and bare were its glaciated shores that we had some difficulty
in effecting a landing. One night was spent on this rocky bank, and
the day following being fair and bright, saw us on the waters of
Chesterfield Inlet. The magnetic compasses were now found to work very
unsatisfactorily, but for one day the sunlight enabled me to make liberal
use of my solar instrument. During the next and several succeeding days
the weather was dark and gloomy, and we encountered such tide rips in the
Inlet that my survey was much interfered with.
On the 10th of September, as we were pulling down the Inlet under a
strong side wind, through extremely rough water, we were glad to find
about noon a sheltered cove on the north side of a large island near the
south shore. Here we landed to await an improvement in the weather. While
the cooks were preparing our mid-day meal, my brother and I set out for
the summit of the island, a mile or more to the south, for the purpose of
taking observations. In due time the breezy elevation was reached. While
sighting to a prominent point to the southward, there suddenly appeared
from behind it what seemed a phantom ship. For a moment I gazed upon it
in amazement, but then realizing that the appearance was a real, not an
imaginary one, I called my brother’s attention to it.
The object, which was several miles distant, was clearly made out to
be a two-masted sail-boat, and it was heading to the westward. By whom
could it be manned? We could not imagine, but there it was, with two
square sails set to the wind and tearing up the inlet. By the aid of our
field-glasses we could make out many moving figures on the boat, but
as to whether they were whalers, Hudson’s Bay Company’s traders from
Churchill, or who else, we could not conceive. If, however, they were
to be more to us than a vision it was necessary to bestir ourselves,
for they were rapidly passing. From my pocket I drew an immense red
handkerchief and waved it most energetically, while my brother discharged
several shots from his revolver. We soon saw from the boat’s movements
that we were observed, but instead of coming in towards us they only
bore away more to the southward. Still I vigorously waved the red
handkerchief, and finally, much to our delight, the sails flapped
loosely in the wind, then in a moment were refilled by the strong breeze
and the boat swept in toward us.
The appearance of a sail-boat in Chesterfield Inlet, and especially at
this late season of the year, puzzled us much, and as it drew nearer we
watched it intently. It had the appearance of being a large whale-boat,
and was evidently well manned, but by whom we could not tell. Whoever
they might be, perhaps they could be hired to take us down the coast of
the Bay to Churchill, and if so we might be saved weeks of hard travel on
a very exposed and dangerous coast. We sincerely hoped that the strange
mariners, or at least their boat, might be available for the voyage.
When they had approached sufficiently near we could see that there were
Eskimos on board, and a moment later their anchor was cast out, and
several of them, making a sort of raft out of three kyacks they had in
tow, paddled in to the rocky shore where we stood. In vain did we look
for the face of a white man. They were all natives, and as we gazed at
each other in mutual amazement, I broke the silence with the question,
“_Kudloonah petehungetoo?_” (Is there no white man?) “_Petehungetoo_”
(There is none), was the reply, so the whole party, which consisted of
several families, men, women and children, were Eskimos, and with them in
their boat they had their dogs and other necessary hunting and camping
equipments. They informed us they were moving up into the interior from
the coast to spend the winter, and so it was not surprising that nothing
we could offer would induce them to consider the question of taking us
down to Churchill or of selling their boat to us. We offered what to
them would have been fabulous wealth, but to no purpose. There they were
with all their belongings on their way to the westward, and westward they
were determined to go.
The Eskimos in turn expressed surprise at finding two solitary white men
upon such a lonely, barren island, and not unnaturally asked, “_Nowtimee
ibbee kyette?_” (Where do you come from?) I replied, “_Uvagut kyette
tellipea washigtooeloo towmonee koog-du-ak_” (We come from the west
very far, down a great river). We were then asked if we had seen any
more of their people, and replied, “_Uvagut tacko-namee hipunga Enuit
coonetookeloo manee tacko Enuit amasuit washigtoo tellipea iglooanne
attowsha sissell ungayo._” (We have seen no other Eskimos near here, but
saw plenty far to the westward beyond the first big lake). They informed
us that another large boat-load of their people had gone up from the
coast on the previous day, and were surprised that we had not seen them.
Though we were not able to purchase or charter the boat from the natives,
we obtained much valuable information and a sketch-map of the coast of
the Bay from the mouth of the Inlet down to Fort Churchill. After a
brief stay they returned to their boat and we to the rocky hills, upon
the other side of which our party awaited our return. The wind still
continued to blow too strongly to admit of travelling by canoe, so we
went back again and spent the rest of the day on the hills.
Next morning we were up early. The wind had fallen somewhat and the
canoes were soon launched. We managed to travel until after eleven
o’clock, when, because of the high wind and rough water, we were again
obliged to make for the shore, and in order to do so had to pull through
a heavy surf breaking over the low sandy beach. During the afternoon at
this point observations for longitude were obtained, and close by upon a
prominent hill a large cairn of rocks was erected to mark the spot for
the benefit of future explorers.
The two following days were marked by rough weather and little progress,
but finally we reached the mouth of the great Inlet through which for
several days we had been paddling.
For having completed another stage of the journey we were exceedingly
glad, but coupled with this fact there was another, viz., that before us
was a five-hundred-mile voyage to be made in open canoes down an exposed
sea-coast. Here we would be surrounded by entirely new conditions and
confronted with new difficulties.
[Illustration: HALF-BREED BOY.]