to do to pay for your keep, and I'm afraid that's the best we can do
unless," continued the factor, thoughtfully "unless you go with the
mail. I find I've got to send some letters to Fort Pelican. How far is
that from Eskimo Bay,--a hundred miles?"
"Ninety, sir."
"Do you speak Eskimo?"
"No, sir."
"Well, the dog drivers will be Eskimos. The men that leave here will
go east to the coast. They will meet other Eskimos there who will go
to Pelican. It's a hard and dangerous journey. Are you a good
traveller?"
"Not so bad, sir, an' I drives dogs."
Mr. MacPherson was silent for a few moments, then he spoke.
"These Eskimos are careless scallawags with letters and they lose them
sometimes. The letters I am sending are very important ones or I
wouldn't be sending them. I think you would take better care of them
than they. Will you keep them safe if I let you go with the Eskimos?"
"Yes, sir, I'd be rare careful."
"Well, we'll see. I think I'll let you take the letters. I can't say
yet just when I'll have you start but within the month."
"Thank you, sir."
"In the meantime make yourself useful about the place here. There'll
be nothing for you to do to-day. Look around and get acquainted. You
may go now. Come to the office in the morning and one of the clerks
will tell you what to do."
"All right, sir."
When Bob passed out of doors he was fairly treading upon air. A way
was opening up for him to return home and in all probability he should
reach there by the time Dick and Ed and Bill came out from the trails
in the spring and if they had not, in the meantime, taken the news of
his disappearance to Wolf Bight, the folks at home would know nothing
of it until he told them himself and would have no unusual cause for
worry in the meantime. He felt a considerable sense of importance,
too, at the confidence Mr. MacPherson reposed in him in suggesting
that he might place him in charge of an important mail. And what a
tale he would have to tell! Bessie would think him quite a hero. After
all it had turned out well. He had caught a silver fox and all the
other fur--quite enough, he was sure, to send Emily to the hospital.
God had been very good to him and he cast his eyes to heaven and
breathed a little prayer of thanksgiving.
Sishetakushin and Mookoomahn had been quite forgotten by Bob in the
excitement of the arrival at the Fort. Now he saw them and the two
other Indians coming over from the cabin to which they had gone when
he left them to meet Mr. MacPherson, and he hurried down to meet them
and tell them that he had found a way to reach home. It was plain that
they did not approve of the turn matters had taken, for they only
grunted and said nothing.
They turned to a building where the door stood open and Bob
accompanied them and entered with them. This was the Post shop, and a
young man, whom Bob had not seen before, presumably "Lord Salisbury,"
the chief clerk of whom the talkative "Secretary Bayard" had spoken,
was behind the counter attending to the wants of an Eskimo and his
wife, the latter with a black-eyed, round-faced baby which sat
contentedly in her hood sucking a stick of black tobacco. The clerk
spoke to the Indians in their language, said "good day" to Bob in
English, and then continued his dickering in the Eskimo language with
his customers, who had deposited before them on the counter a number
of arctic fox pelts.
When the clerk had finished with the Eskimos he turned to the Indians
in a very businesslike way and asked to see the furs they had brought.
They produced some marten skins which, after a great deal of
wrangling, were bartered for tobacco, tea, powder, shot, bullets, gun
caps, beads, three-cornered needles and a few trinkets. Much time was
consumed in this, for the Indians insisted upon handling and
discussing at length each individual article purchased.
Bob had brought with him the marten skins that he had trapped during
his stay with the Indians and he exchanged them for a red shawl and a
little box of beads for Manikawan, a trinket for the old woman,
Manikawan's mother, and a small gift each for Sishetakushin and
Mookoomahn, besides some much needed clothing for himself.
These tokens of his gratitude he presented to the two Indians, who had
indicated their intention of returning to the interior camp the next
morning. They had not fully realized until now that Bob was actually
going to leave them and attempt to reach home with the Eskimos, and
they protested vigorously against the plan. Sishetakushin told him the
Eskimos were bad people and would never guide him safely to his
friends. Indeed, he asserted, they might kill him when they had him
alone with them. On the other hand, the Indians were kind and true.
They had recognized his worth and had adopted him into the tribe. With
them he had been happy and with them he would be safe. He could have
his own wigwam and take Manikawan for his wife; and sometimes, if he
wished, he could go to visit his people.
The failure of their arguments to impress Bob was a great
disappointment to the Indians, and Bob, on his part, felt a keen sense
of sorrow when, the following morning, he saw his benefactors go. They
had saved his life and had done all they could in their rude,
primitive way for his comfort, and he appreciated their kindness and
hospitality.
Ungava Bob, as every one at the Post called him, made himself
generally useful about the fort and was soon quite at home in his new
surroundings. He cut wood and helped the Eskimo servants feed the
dogs, and did any jobs that presented themselves and soon became a
general favourite, not only with Mr. MacPherson but with the clerks
and servants also.
His quarters with Sandy and Jamie seemed luxurious in contrast with
the rough life of the interior to which he had so long been
accustomed, and when the three gathered around the red hot stove those
cold evenings after the day's work was done and supper eaten, the
Scotchmen held him enthralled with stories they told of their native
land and the wonderful and magnificent things they had seen there.
Besides the factor and the two clerks these were the only white people
at the Fort, and naturally they grew to be close companions. The white
men, too, were the only ones of the Post folk that could speak
English, for the few Eskimos and Indians that lived on the reservation
knew only their respective native tongue.
And so the time passed until, at last, the middle of March came, with
its lengthening days and stormy weather, and Bob was beginning to fear
that Mr. MacPherson had abandoned the project of sending him out with
a mail, for nothing further had been said about his going since the
conversation on the day of his arrival. For two or three days he had
been upon the lookout for a favourable opportunity to ask whether or
not he was to go, and was thinking about it one Friday morning as he
worked at the wood-pile, when "Secretary Bayard" hailed him:
"Hey, there, Bob! The boss wants you."
This was auspicious, and Bob hurried over to the factor's inner
office, where he found Mr. MacPherson waiting for him.
"Well, Ungava Bob," the factor greeted, "are you getting tired of
Ungava and anxious to get away?"
"I'm likin' un fine, sir, but wantin' t' be goin' home wonderful bad,"
answered Bob.
"I suppose you are. I suppose you are. I remember when I was young and
first left home, how badly I wanted to go back," he said,
reminiscently. "That was a long while ago and there's no one for me to
go home to now--they're all dead--all dead--and it's too late."
He was silent for a little in meditation, and seemed to have quite
forgotten Bob. Then suddenly bringing himself from the past to the
present again, he continued:
"Yes, yes, you want to go home, and I'm going to start you on Monday
morning. I'll give you a packet of very important letters that you
will deliver to Mr. Forbes, the factor at Fort Pelican, and I shall
hold you responsible for their safe delivery. Akonuk and Matuk will go
with you as far as Kangeva, where they will try to get two other
Eskimos with a good team of dogs to take you on to Rigolet. But it may
be they'll have to go farther, to find drivers that know the way, and
that will delay you some. You'll have time to reach Rigolet, however,
before the break-up if you push on. The Eskimos will lose some time
visiting with their friends when they meet them on the way, and I've
allowed for that. Now, be ready to start on Monday. The clerks will
fix you up with what supplies you will need for the journey."
"Yes, sir. I'll be ready, an' thank you, sir."
"Hold on," said the factor as Bob turned to go. "Here's a rifle that
I'm going to let you take with you, for you may need it." He picked up
a gun that had been leaning against the wall beside him. "It's a 44
repeating Winchester that I've used for three or four years, and it's
a good one. I've got a heavier one now for seals and white whales, and
I'll give you this if you take the letters through safely. Is that a
bargain?"
Bob's eyes bulged and his pleasure was manifest.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'll not be losin' th' letters."
It was the first repeating rifle--the first rifle, in fact, of any
kind--that he had ever seen, and as Mr. MacPherson explained and
illustrated to him its manipulation, he thought it the most marvellous
piece of mechanism in the world.
"Now be careful how you handle it," cautioned the factor after the arm
had been thoroughly described. "You see that when you throw a
cartridge into the barrel by the lever action it cocks the gun, and if
you're not going to discharge it again immediately you must let the
hammer down. It shoots a good many times farther, too, than your old
gun, so be sure there are no Eskimos within half a mile of its muzzle
or you'll be killing some of them, and I don't want that to happen,
for I need them all to hunt. Besides, if you killed one of them his
friends would be putting you out of the way so you'd kill no more, and
then my packet of letters wouldn't be delivered. Now look out."
"I'll be rare careful of un, sir."
"Very well, see that you are. Be ready to start, now, at daylight,
Monday."
"I'll be ready, sir."
Bob's delight was little short of ecstatic as he strode out of the
office with his rifle.
The next day (Saturday) "Secretary Bayard," with voluminous comments
and cautions in reference to the undertaking, the Eskimos and things
in general, helped him and the two Eskimos that were to accompany him
put in readiness his supplies, which consisted of hardtack, jerked
venison, fat pork--the only provisions they had which would not
freeze--tea, two kettles, sulphur matches, ammunition, and a reindeer
skin sleeping bag. The Eskimos possessed sleeping bags of their own.
Blubber and white whale meat, frozen very hard, were packed for dog
food.
An axe, a small jack plane and two snow knives were the only tools to
be carried. This knife had a blade about two feet in length and
resembled a small, broad-bladed sword. It was to be used in the
construction of snow igloos. The jack plane was needed to keep the
komatik runners smooth.
Instead of the runners being shod with whale-bone, as in many places
in the North, the Eskimos of Ungava apply a turf--which is stored for
the purpose in the short summer season--and mixed with water to the
consistency of mud. This is moulded on the runners with the hands in a
thick, broad, semicircular shape, and freezes as hard as glass. Then
its irregularities are planed smooth, and it slips easily over the
snow and ice.
Finally, all the preparations were completed, and Bob looked forward
in a high state of excited anticipation to the great journey of new
experiences and adventures that lay before him to be crowned by the
joy of his home-coming.
But a thousand miles separated Bob from his home and danger and death
lurked by the way. Human plans and day-dreams are not considered by
the Providence that moulds man's fortune, and it is a blessed thing
that human eyes cannot look into the future.
XIX
AT THE MERCY OF THE WIND
In the starlight of Monday morning Akonuk and Matuk harnessed their
twelve big dogs. Fierce creatures these animals were, scarcely less
wild than the wolves that prowled over the hills behind the Fort, of
which they were the counterpart, and more than once the Eskimos had to
beat them with the butt end of a whip to stop their fighting and bring
them to submission.
The load had already been lashed upon the komatik and the mud on the
runners rubbed over with lukewarm water which had frozen into a thin
glaze of ice that would slip easily over the snow.
Mr. MacPherson gave Bob the package of letters, with a final
injunction not to lose them when at length the dogs were harnessed and
all was ready. Good-byes were said and Bob and his two Eskimo
companions were off.
The snow was packed hard and firm, so that neither the dogs nor the
komatik broke through, and the animals, fresh and eager, started at a
fast pace and maintained an even, steady trot throughout the day.
Occasionally there were hills to climb, and some of these were so
steep that it was necessary for Bob and the Eskimos to haul upon the
traces with the dogs, and now and then they had to lift the komatik
over rocky places, and on one river that they crossed they were forced
to cut in several places a passage around ice hills, where the tide
had piled the ice blocks thirty or forty feet high. But for the most
part the route lay over a rolling country near the coast.
Only at long intervals were trees to be seen, and these were very
small and stunted, and grew in sheltered hollows. At noon they halted
in one of these hollows to build a fire, over which they melted snow
in one of the kettles and made tea, with which they washed down some
hardtack and jerked venison.
That night when they stopped to make their camp, sixty miles lay
behind them. The going had been good and they had done a splendid
day's work.
Before unharnessing the dogs, which would have immediately attacked
and destroyed the goods upon the sledge had they been released, the
Eskimos went about building an igloo.
A good bank of snow was selected and out of this Akonuk cut blocks as
large as he could lift and placed them on edge in a circle about seven
feet in diameter in the interior. As each block was placed it was
trimmed and fitted closely to its neighbour. Then while Matuk cut more
blocks and handed them to Akonuk as they were needed, the latter
standing in the centre of the structure placed them upon edge upon the
other blocks, building them up in spiral form, and narrowing in each
upper round until the igloo assumed the form of a dome. When it was
nearly as high as his head, the upper tier of blocks was so close
together that a single large block was sufficient to close the
aperture at the top. This block was like the keystone in an arch, and
held the others firmly in place. Akonuk now cut a round hole through
the side of the igloo close to the bottom, and large enough for him to
crawl through on his hands and knees.
When the Eskimos began building the snow house Bob commenced unloading
the komatik, but Matuk called "Chuly, chuly,"--wait a little--to him,
and said "tamaany,"--here--a suggestion that he would be more useful
in helping to chink up the crevices between the blocks of snow on the
igloo after Akonuk placed them This he did, and in half an hour from
the time they halted the igloo was completed and was so strongly built
a man could have stood on its top without fear of breaking it down.
The tops of spruce boughs were now cut and spread within, after which
they unlashed the komatik, and, covering the bed of boughs with
deerskins, stored everything that the dogs would be likely to destroy
safely inside the igloo. This done the dogs were unharnessed and fed,
the men standing over the animals with stout sticks to prevent their
fighting while they ravenously gulped down the chunks of frozen whale
meat.
This function completed, a fire was made outside the igloo and tea
brewed. With the kettle of hot tea the three crawled into the igloo,
dragging after them a block of snow which Akonuk fitted neatly into
the entrance and chinked the edges with loose snow.
Matuk now brought forth an Eskimo lamp into which he squeezed the oil
from a piece of seal blubber, first pounding the blubber with the axe
head, and with moss to serve the purpose of a wick, the lamp was
lighted. This lamp, which was made of stone cut in the shape of a half
moon, was about ten inches long, four inches wide and an inch deep.
The moss that served as a wick was arranged along the straight side,
and gave out a strong, fishy odour as it burned.
Besides the tea, hardtack and jerked venison, Bob ate pieces of the
frozen fat pork which had been boiled before starting, and found it
very delicious, as fat always is to a traveller in the far North. The
Eskimos each accepted a small piece of it from him, but when he
offered them a second portion they both said "Taemet,"--Thank you,
enough--and instead helped themselves liberally to raw seal blubber,
which they ate with an evident relish and gusto along with the jerked
venison and hardtack.
Akonuk, the older of these men, was perhaps thirty-five years of age,
nearly six feet in height and well proportioned. Matuk was not so
tall, but like Akonuk was well formed. Both were muscular and powerful
men physically, and both had round, fat faces that were full of good
nature.
Intense as was the cold out of doors, the stone lamp soon made the
igloo so warm within that all were compelled to remove their outer
skin garments. The snow, however, was not melted, but remained quite
hard and firm.
The Eskimos talked and smoked for a whole hour after supper, before
stretching in their sleeping bags, but Bob crawled into his almost
immediately, for he was very weary after his long day's travel. His
knowledge of their language was not sufficient for him to take part in
the conversation, or, indeed, to understand much they said, and the
constant talk soon became tiresome to him, though he kept his ears
open with a view to adding to his Eskimo vocabulary whenever an
opportunity offered.
"'Tis a strange language an' I'm wonderin' how they understands un,"
he observed as he turned over to go to sleep.
Very early the next morning he heard Akonuk calling to Matuk to wake
up. Then for a little while the two Eskimos conversed together and
finally the lamp was lighted. Over this a snow knife was stuck into
the side of the igloo and the kettle hung upon the knife in such a
position that it was directly over the flame, and snow, cut from the
side of the igloo near the bottom, was melted for tea, and thus the
simple breakfast was prepared without going out of doors.
When Bob came out of his bag to eat he realized that a storm was
raging outside, for he could hear the wind roaring around the igloo,
and Akonuk made him understand that a heavy snow-storm was in progress
and a continuation of the journey that day quite out of the question.
When daylight finally filtered dimly through the igloo roof, he
removed the snow block that closed the entrance, and crawled to the
outer world, where he verified Akonuk's statement.
The air was so filled with snow that it would be quite useless to
attempt to move in it. The previous night the dogs had dug holes for
themselves in the bank and were now completely covered with the drift,
and invisible, and the komatik, too, was quite hidden. The aspect was
dreary in the extreme, and he returned to spend the day dozing in his
sleeping bag.
For two days they were held prisoners by the storm, and when finally
the third morning dawned clear and cold, a deep covering of soft snow
had spoiled the good going and they found travelling much slower and
more difficult than the day they started.
Akonuk and Bob ran ahead on their snow-shoes to break the way for the
dogs, which Matuk drove, and found it necessary to constantly urge the
animals on with shouts of "Oo-isht! Oo-isht! Ok-suit! Ok-suit!" and
sometimes with stinging cuts of his long whip. This whip was made of
braided strands of walrus hide, and tapered from a thickness of two
inches at the butt to one long single strand at the tip. Its handle
was a piece of wood about a foot long and the whole whip was perhaps
thirty-five feet in length. When not in use a loop on the handle was
dropped over the end of one of the forward crosspieces of the komatik,
and its lash trailed behind in the snow. Here it could be readily
reached and brought into instant service. Matuk was an expert in the
manipulation of this cruel instrument, and the dogs were in deadly
fear of it. When he cracked it over their heads they would plunge
madly forward and whine piteously for mercy. When he wished to punish
a dog he could cut it with the lash tip even to the extent of breaking
the skin, if he desired, and he never missed the animal he aimed at.
Each dog had an individual trace which was fastened to a long, single
thong of sealskin attached to the front of the komatik. These traces
were of varying length, the leader, or dog trained to the Eskimos'
calls, having the longest trace, which permitted it to go well in
advance of the others.
For several days the journey was monotonous and uneventful. Gradually
as they advanced the travelling improved again, as the March winds
drifted away the soft, loose snow and left the bottom solid and firm
for the dogs.
Ptarmigans were plentiful, as were also arctic hares, and a white fox
and one or two white owls were killed. The flesh of all these they
ate, and were thus enabled to keep in reserve the provisions they had
brought with them. Bob was rather disgusted than amused to see the
Eskimos eat the flesh of animals and birds raw. They appeared to
esteem as a particular delicacy the freshly killed ptarmigans, still
warm with the life blood, eating even the entrails uncooked.
One afternoon they turned the komatik from the land to the far
stretching ice of a wide bay directing their course towards a cove on
the farther side, where the Eskimos said they expected to find
igloos.
All day a stiff wind had been blowing from the southwest and as the
day grew old it increased in velocity. The komatik was taking an
almost easterly course and therefore the wind did not seriously hamper
their progress, though it was bitter cold and searching and made
travelling extremely uncomfortable.
Less than half-way across the bay, which was some twelve miles wide, a
crack in the ice was passed over. Presently cracks became numerous,
and glancing behind him Bob noticed a wide black space along the shore
at the point where they had taken to the ice, and could see in the
distance farther to the northwest, as it reflected the light, a white
streak of foam where the angry sea was assailing the ice barrier. He
realized at once that the wind and sea were smashing the ice.
They were far from land and in grave peril. The Eskimos urged the dogs
to renewed efforts, and the poor brutes themselves, seeming to realize
the danger, pulled desperately at the traces.
After a time the ice beneath them began to undulate, moving up and
down in waves and giving an uncertain footing. Between them and the
cove they were heading for, but a little outside of their course, was
a bare, rocky island and the Eskimos suddenly turned the dogs towards
it. The whole body of ice was now separated from the mainland and this
island was the only visible refuge open to them. Behind them the sea
was booming and thundering in a terrifying manner as it drove gigantic
ice blocks like mighty battering rams against the main mass, which
crumbled steadily away before the onslaught.
It had become a race for life now, and it was a question whether the
sea or the men would win. Once a crack was reached that they could not
cross and they had to make a considerable detour to find a passage
around it, and it looked for a little while as though this sealed
their fate, but with a desperate effort they presently found
themselves within a few yards of the island.
Here a new danger awaited them. The ice upon the shore was rising and
falling and crumbling against the rocks with each incoming and
receding sea. To successfully land it would be necessary to make a
dash at the very instant that the ice came in contact with the shore.
A moment too soon or a moment too late and they would inevitably be
crushed to death. It was their only way of escape, however. The
howling dogs were held in leash until the proper moment, and all
prepared for the run.