_ADVENTURES BY LAND AND SEA._
Starting southward down the coast of Hudson Bay on the 13th of September,
with the weather beautifully calm, we made a capital run past a rocky
coast, skirted by a succession of shoals and reefs, and at night
camped upon the shore about twelve miles north of Marble Island, whose
snow-white hills of quartzite could be distinctly seen on the horizon.
Marble Island—so called because of the resemblance its rounded glaciated
rocky hills bear to white marble—is well-known as a wintering station
for New England whalers. Its geographical position was determined in
1885 and 1886 by Commander Gordon, of the Dominion Government Hudson Bay
Expedition, of which the writer was a member, so we were glad to avail
ourselves of the opportunity of connecting our survey with so well-fixed
a landmark.
We had been informed by the Eskimos that there were no whalers now at the
island, and we satisfied ourselves of the truth of their report by the
use of our long-range binoculars. Had there been we would have endeavored
to arrange with one of them to take us down to Churchill, but in their
absence we could only stick to the canoes. Near camp, on the shore, we
found part of the skeleton of an immense whale, but unfortunately not
the part that is of commercial value. This doubtless had been carried
away by the Eskimos or by some whaling crew.
During the following day the weather continued fair, and feeling that
nature was favoring us we made good use of our time. As we followed the
coast in a south-westerly direction the outline of Marble Island could be
seen against the southern sky; while to the north extended the bold, dark
coast-line of rock, unbroken in appearance excepting where here and there
lay great banks of snow.
About noon we discovered, on landing, what must very recently have been
a large Eskimo encampment. Several kometics (sleds) and other articles
were found. The wreck of a large whale-boat lay on the shore, and several
dogs were seen lurking about. This camping-place was the summer home
of the Eskimos we had met sailing up Chesterfield Inlet, and from a
sanitary point of view was no credit to them, for filth and putrefaction
everywhere abounded.
The rocks of this locality were of an interesting character, being dark
green hornblendic schists of the Huronian formation.
Following these two days of exceptionally fair weather we enjoyed still
another, and were permitted to traverse the mouth of Rankin Inlet, which
would have required two or three days to coast had the weather been
anything but calm. During these three days we had made a distance of just
one hundred miles, which, upon such an exposed coast, we considered good
progress.
Though we saw little game we still had some dried meat left, and at
this rate of travel two weeks would take us to Churchill. By carefully
rationing ourselves we had meat enough to last for five or six days, and
the balance of the time could, if necessary, be spent without provisions.
On the night of the 15th, however, being camped upon a little sand island
in the mouth of Corbet’s Inlet, our hopes were blighted by the approach
of a gale, and all the next day we lay imprisoned upon the sand-bar
without any fresh water to drink. Toward evening the wind was accompanied
by a chilling rain, which continued all night and the greater part of
the next morning. On the following afternoon the wind suddenly fell, and
though a heavy sea continued to roll in from the east, the waves ceased
to break.
Fearing to lose one hour when it was possible to travel, we launched our
canoes upon the heaving bosom of the deep and started across the mouth of
the inlet on an eight-mile traverse. As we passed out beyond the shelter
of the island we found the seas running fearfully high, but so long as
they did not break upon us we had little to fear, and this would not
likely occur unless the wind should spring up again; but when we were
well out in the middle of the inlet that is just what did occur. The wind
began to rise from exactly the opposite quarter, and speedily increased
in force, whipping the crests off the waves in such a way as to make
things appear anything but reassuring. Our situation was indeed perilous.
Every effort was made to guide the canoes so as to brook least danger,
but in spite of all we could do the seas dashed in upon us, and it looked
as if we would never reach the shore.
My brother and I laid down our paddles, and with tin kettles applied
ourselves vigorously to bailing out the water. Many times the great
tumbling billows seemed as if they would surely roll over us, but our
light cedars, though sometimes half-filled with water, were borne up on
the crest of the waves. At length we neared the rocky shore toward which
for several hours we had been struggling, but, to our dismay, only to
find it skirted by a long line of rocks and shoals, upon which the full
fury of the wild sea was breaking. What were we to do? Without a harbor
we would be dashed to pieces upon the rocks—and it was impossible to
retreat against the storm. On we were borne by the force of the gale,
but, thanks to a kind Providence, just as the crisis appeared to have
come, a way of escape was discerned. One rock could be seen standing
out in advance of the others, and behind this we managed with a supreme
effort to guide the canoes. Then in shallow water, with the force of the
seas broken, we all sprang out, and with great exertion succeeded in
landing the boats in safety.
The country here was entirely barren and rocky, comparatively level,
and of a most dreary aspect, without a sign of vegetation. The storm
continued for two days longer, during which time we were obliged to
remain on shore. As our provisions were now about exhausted, attention
was chiefly devoted to hunting, but all that could be found was a small
duck and two gulls. The broken remains of an Eskimo kyack were found upon
the shore, and these were carefully gathered up so that a kettle of water
might be boiled and our gulls cooked for supper.
On the morning of the 20th, the wind having fallen, camp was called at
four o’clock and without breakfast our journey resumed. Later in the day
each man had a small piece of dried meat, quite insufficient to satisfy
his appetite; but, hungry though we were, the motto plainly written on
every man’s face was, “Speed the paddle.” Thus we pressed on for two
days, making good progress, but having scarcely anything to eat the work
began to tell on us.
On the 22nd we were again storm-bound by a heavy gale with snow, which
lasted four days. During this time we suffered considerably from the
violence of the storm as well as from want of food. As soon as it had
abated sufficiently, which was not until the morning of the 25th, two of
the men, Pierre and Louis, were sent out with the shot-guns to hunt for
food, and with our rifles my brother and I set out for an all-day tramp
into the interior. We found our camp was situated near the end of a long
narrow point at the back of which was Neville Bay. The point consisted in
places of extended fields of water-washed boulders, and in order to reach
the mainland we had to cross these. The necessity of doing this, together
with the fact that we were walking with weakened limbs into the teeth of
a gale, made travelling extremely difficult.
Shortly after leaving camp a hare jumped out from among the rocks, and
coming to a fatal stand, was perforated by a slug from my “Marlin.” Not
wishing to carry it all day, it was left with Pierre and Louis to be
taken to camp. By three o’clock, after a long and laborious march and
securing nothing but a solitary ptarmigan, my brother and I reached the
bottom of the bay and there discovered the mouth of a large river which
flowed into it. We would gladly have stayed some time in this vicinity,
but as the day was already far spent, and we were pretty well used up,
we dare not. Finding a little dry moss we made a fire, roasted and ate
the ptarmigan, and then started back to camp. In some localities the
fresh snow was deep and soft, and this added greatly to the fatigue of
the trip. But before we had proceeded far we met with encouragement in
the discovery of deer-tracks. They were a day or so old, for they were
frozen, but they led away nearly in the direction of camp, so we eagerly
followed them, and from every hill-top keenly scanned the country.
The shades of evening were gathering and we were tired and hungry.
Nothing could we see of the deer, and fearing to lie out all night
without blankets in the rough, cold weather, we pushed on towards camp
as fast as our weary limbs would carry us. We were frequently obliged to
sit down to rest, and consequently when still several miles from camp we
found ourselves enveloped in darkness and groping our way laboriously
through a field of boulders. For a considerable distance we had to feel
the way with hands and feet, between and over the rocks. After about
two hours of this sort of experience we gained the more level country,
and shortly afterwards, guided by the light of a candle in one of the
tents, we reached camp thoroughly used up. We were not, however, obliged
to go to bed hungry, for Pierre and Louis, having been more successful
than ourselves, had secured several ptarmigan and rabbits. From these a
_bouillon_ had been prepared, and part of it saved for our supper. It
was a most thoroughly appreciated meal, and after partaking of it we
were soon rolled up in our blankets, all unconscious of the storm that
howled without or of the fact that we had not another meal in camp. On
the morning of the 26th we were glad to find that the wind had fallen
sufficiently to allow us to launch. Without delay the canoes were loaded
and a fair run made. Several sea-ducks were shot during the day, and thus
supper was secured.
The next day, again storm-bound by a gale from the south-west, the whole
party started out to hunt for food. We were not altogether unsuccessful,
assembling in the evening with five marmots (little animals about the
size of squirrels).
The following morning, though a strong breeze was blowing, we determined
to make a start, for to remain where we were meant that we must soon
starve to death. We were already much reduced and weakened from the
effects of cold and hunger, and the condition of the weather had of late
been most disheartening. Churchill, the nearest habitation of man, was
still fully three hundred miles distant. We had not one bite of food. The
country was covered with snow, the climate piercingly cold. No fuel was
to be had, and worst of all, the weather was such, the greater part of
the time, that we were unable to travel. It was difficult to be cheerful
under such circumstances, but we kept up courage and pushed on.
While we were bending to our paddles, after making perhaps seven or eight
miles south-westerly along the coast, a band of deer was seen upon the
shore. Our course was quickly altered and a landing effected, though with
some difficulty, as the tide was falling and the water rapidly receding.
The men were left to keep the canoes afloat while my brother and I, with
our rifles, went in pursuit of the deer, which were at this time much
more difficult to hunt than earlier in the season, when they run in great
herds. The country here was a vast and dreary plain, affording no cover
for the hunter save that of a few scattered boulders. Concealed by some
of these we crept for long distances, but finding it impossible to get
within any kind of medium range, we opened fire at a distance of four or
five hundred yards. At first the deer trotted about in confusion, but
soon locating their enemies they fled straight away across the plains.
For several hours we followed, vainly seeking for opportunity of nearer
approach, but being unsuccessful, retraced our weary steps to the shore,
where we arrived faint and exhausted. We found the men had been unable to
keep the canoes afloat because of the ebbing tide. They were now high and
dry, and the water of the Bay barely visible in the distance—such was the
extremely low and flat character of the coast.
[Illustration: BLACKFOOT BOY.]