A HUSKY CAMP
The boat gained upon the bear rapidly, and had nearly overtaken it
when suddenly it turned to the left, interposing a small pan of ice
between it and its pursuers, effectually hiding it from their view.
Dan made a short cut around the opposite side of the pan, and as the
boat shot out behind the ice its bow nearly struck the bear. The
pursuers were no less surprised than the pursued, and as the boat
darted past, the bear made a vicious lunge with its powerful paw,
caught it amidships and nearly capsized it.
Dan made a graceful swing, and brought the hunters almost too close to
the animal to permit the use of guns. It charged them again, but Dan,
on the lookout for this maneuver, neatly avoided it.
“Now, Paul,” advised Remington, “shoot!”
The bear was less than twenty feet from the boat, but Paul was still
in so high a state of excitement that he missed two shots, and it was
only at the third attempt that he struck the animal in the head, and
it collapsed.
“It’s a stunning big fellow!” Remington declared, while he slipped a
rope over the animal’s neck to tow it to the ship.
“That was a splendid shot from the ship--I doubt if I could have made
it,” said Ainsworth. “And you’ve got the first game of the trip,
Paul.”
“’Twere a rare fine shot,” put in Dan. “I were standin’ by, an’ I’ve
missed many a better.”
When the bear was at length hoisted on deck it proved indeed to be a
monster polar bear, and Captain Bluntt declared it one of the largest
he had ever seen.
Paul’s pleasure was beyond bounds. His face, which was already losing
its sallow, yellow appearance, glowed with delight. He was in a fair
way to have his head turned by the unstinted praise of his companions.
The fine smoking roast which came on the supper table that evening
certainly had an appetizing appearance, but when Paul received a
helping he fancied he detected a fishy odor, and when he tasted the
meat he made a wry face and exclaimed:
“Ugh! Why, it’s strong with fish!”
“A bit fishy in flavor, lad. A bit fishy,” agreed Captain Bluntt. “But
a man o’ the sea _and_ a sportsman shouldn’t mind that.”
“Well I don’t like it,” asserted Paul, “but I killed it and I’m going
to eat some of it anyway.”
“That’s the right spirit,” said Remington, “but I think I’ll pass it
by. I never could bring myself to eat polar bear or seal. Perhaps
because I never had to.”
“I can’t say that I care for it,” admitted Ainsworth.
“’Tis fine meat, I thinks,” declared Captain Bluntt, helping himself
liberally. “I finds it fine. Bear’s meat is rare strong meat.”
“I don’t think I can go it,” said Paul, who had tried another
mouthful. “It’s strong, all right--too strong of fish for me.”
“I weren’t meanin’ that kind o’ strong. No, no! ’Tis good, wholesome,
strengthenin’ meat. ’Tis not so high flavored of fish, either, as old
swile, an’ swile is good.”
“Swile? What’s that?” asked Paul.
“Seal, lad, seal. We calls un swile in Newfoundland and down on the
Labrador. Swile an’ ice bears live on fish, lad, and ’tis but natural
they should carry a bit of the flavor of fish. That rascal the cook
should have given un an extra parboil.”
“I didn’t suppose any one but Eskimos ate seal.”
“Only Eskimos eat seal! No, no, lad! We all eats un an’ likes un. Old
seal is a bit high flavored, but white coats I finds as sweet an’ fine
as mutton or fowl.”
“What are white coats?”
“Never heard of white coats? Well! Well! You sure _has_ some things to
learn of the North. White coats is young seals--very young uns.”
“I never heard them called that.” Paul felt some resentment at the
implication that he was not well informed.
The sun went down that night in a blaze of wondrous glory. No human
artist would dare be so prodigal with his colors or resort to such
marvelous blendings of shades as the Almighty Artist paints into His
sunsets upon the sky of the Arctic and sub-Arctic regions. The sunset
on this occasion was unusually gorgeous. Brilliant reds shaded up into
opalescent purples, deep orange into lighter yellow, reaching to the
very dome of heaven. The water reflected the red, and the _North Star_
seemed steaming through a mighty heaving, throbbing sea of blood. It
was as though the earth’s very heart had been laid bare.
For a long time it lasted. Paul and his friends stood enthralled. It
made them breathe deeply. They felt that they were in the presence of
some mighty power, that very near them was the Master Himself, He who
guides the world in its eternal journey, and holds in their places the
innumerable millions of stars and untold other worlds that reach out
into infinite space.
“Isn’t this wonderful--wonderful!” exclaimed Paul, at the end of a
period of breathless awe.
“I never saw anything to compare with it!” declared Ainsworth. “It’s
beyond the dreams of my wildest imagination!”
“It’s nowhere but in the North that such sunsets are ever seen,” said
Remington.
“Fine sunset, sir. Fine sunset,” remarked Captain Bluntt, as he passed
them on his way to the chart house.
“It promises a good day tomorrow, doesn’t it?” asked Remington
“Not so sure of that, sir. Not so sure of that.”
Captain Bluntt’s pessimistic prophecy of the morrow’s weather was well
founded. When day broke the sea was enveloped in a blanket of
fog--thick, stifling, impenetrable. The rigging dripped moisture, the
decks were wet and slippery, the atmosphere was heavy, clammy,
difficult to breathe.
For two days the fog lay over the sea like a pall. The _North Star_,
her engines working at slow speed, felt her way cautiously, for she
was in uncharted waters. The tremendous tides of Ungava Bay render
navigation here dangerous, even under the most favorable conditions,
and Captain Bluntt was not the man to take undue risks, though he was
a fearless seaman, and in his time had done many dashing and daring
deeds, when circumstances had demanded.
Following the fog came several hours of cold dismal rain, accompanied
by sleet. Then the clouds broke, and as though some fairy hand had
brushed them away, the sky cleared and the sun shone warm and
beautiful to cheer the depressed world.
“And there lies Cape Wolstenholm, sir,” said Captain Bluntt, pointing
toward a low-lying coast off their port bow. “We’ll soon be in Hudson
Bay now, sir, and what’s your pleasure?”
“While the fine weather holds I think we’d better do some fishing,”
answered Remington. “Besides, I think we all want to get ashore to
stretch our legs.”
“As you say--as you say, sir! But we’ll have to locate some huskies,
sir, and get a native pilot.”
Upon rounding Cape Wolstenholm, which occupies the northwestern
extremity of the Labrador peninsula, the ship swung in close to the
coast, and, proceeding with great care, the leadsman calling his
fathoms, felt its way between several small islands, until, the
following morning, a safe anchorage was found outside a large island
near the head of Mosquito Bay.
“We’ll be sure to find huskies up this bay, sir,” assured Captain
Bluntt. “We can’t risk the ship any farther, sir. It won’t do, sir.
But it’s a short run for the power boat to the head of that bay, and
unless I’m mistaken there’ll be plenty of huskies there, sir. Yes,
sir, plenty of ’em. I’ll send Tom Hand. Tom Hand speaks their lingo.
Tom! Tom Hand!” he called.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Go ashore, Tom. We wants a husky pilot; a good one. A good husky,
now! Dan! Here, you rascal! Go ashore with Tom, and help him look
after things!”
“Come, fellows, we’ll go along,” suggested Remington to Ainsworth and
Paul. “We’ll not be in the way, will we, Captain.”
“No, no! Go ashore if you likes. Better take some grub with you. Dan,
tell the cook to put up some grub! Look sharp, now!”
Presently they were off, pointing toward the head of the inner bay.
Paul took three or four shots at harbor seals which raised their heads
now and again above the water, but always missed them.
“’Tis wonderful hard t’ hit un from a boat,” said Tom.
Soon they discovered a column of smoke rising from the north shore.
“There un is! Turn she int’ th’ smoke, Dan,” directed Tom. “Th’
huskies is camped in there. Th’ smoke is a signal t’ call us t’ un.
They’s seen us.”
Dan swung the boat in, and upon rounding a point and entering a cove
two skin tents or wigwams were discovered, and several people gathered
upon the shore as if expecting them.
“There’s th’ huskies, an’ their families; leastways they has two
tupeks,” commented Tom.
“Tupeks?” asked Paul.
“Aye--skin tents. In summer they lives in skin tents, an’ in winter in
snow igloos.”
“They seem to be all men and boys,” said Paul.
“No, they’s women too, but husky women wears trousers. You’ll see th’
difference when we comes closter.”
“Well, they are a rocky looking crowd!” exclaimed Paul.
There were two men, three women and four children, one a half-grown
girl. All wore skin garments and were bareheaded, their long black
hair, coarse and straight, reaching to the shoulders. One of the women
carried an infant in her hood, and its round, bright eyes peered
wonderingly over the mother’s shoulders at the intruders.
“Oksunae,” greeted Tom upon stepping ashore.
“Oksunae,” answered the Eskimos, who came forward laughing to shake
hands with their visitors, their round, greasy faces beaming good
nature and welcome.
Tom began his negotiations at once, conversing with the Eskimos in
their native tongue, for they could understand no English.
“Ainsworth and I are going up this stream a little way to try the
salmon. Want to go along, Paul?” asked Remington.
“No, I’ll get fishing enough later. Guess I’ll stay and look this
crowd over.”
“All right. Don’t make eyes at that young Eskimo girl.”
“No fear!”
Skulking about were several big, vicious looking dogs, which reminded
Paul of timber wolves he had seen at the Zoo.
“I don’t like the looks of those beasts,” said he. “Are they
dangerous?”
“They’re cowards so long as you keeps on your feet an’ has somethin’
handy to beat un with,” reassured Dan. “Your gun’ll do for that. But
let un get th’ best o’ you once, an’ they’ll just rip you up like
wolves. They is wolves.”
“They look it,” agreed Paul.
The lads wandered about the encampment, examining the kayaks and crude
hunting implements and paraphernalia of the Eskimos. Upon approaching
the tupeks a stench met their nostrils, which they found came from
half putrid seal meat and fish within.
“They eats wonderful bad meat,” remarked Dan.
“Why, they don’t eat that stuff!” exclaimed Paul.
“Yes they does,” said Dan.
“What pigs they must be!”
“No, ’tis just th’ way they always been used to doin’. They has
wonderful hard times t’ get things t’ eat sometimes.”
At the end of an hour Remington and Ainsworth returned.
“Not a strike,” said Remington, “though I’m certain there are plenty
of salmon in the stream. We’re a little far north for them to take the
fly. But Ainsworth got our dinner. That’s something.”
“Ran into a bunch of ptarmigans,” said Ainsworth, holding up a half
dozen birds.
“How are you making out with the huskies, Tom?” asked Remington of
Tom, who had joined them.
“Kuglutuk, th’ old un, sir, will go with us. He’s ready to start any
time, sir. We has t’ land him at Cape Smith or Cape Wolstenholm, sir,
when we comes back.”
“All right, Tom. Can’t we get brush enough around here to broil these
grouse and make some coffee? I’m famished.”
“Yes, sir. Dan, get th’ axe, b’y, an’ put on a fire, whilst I dresses
th’ birds.”
When Tom drew the birds, to Paul’s amazement the Eskimos gathered up
the entrails, placed them on the end of a stick, broiled them slightly
over the fire Dan had lighted, and ate them as they might a delicacy.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Paul. “I’d starve before I’d do that!”
“Maybe,” said Tom, “but I’m thinkin’ you’d eat un an’ like un if you
was hungry enough. They’s no tellin’ what a man’ll eat. Th’ huskies
eats un because they likes un, an’ entrails ain’t so bad, an’ you gets
used t’ un, though I’m hopin’ you’ll never have t’ eat un, lad.”
“I never would,” positively asserted Paul. “I’d die first.”
Luncheon eaten, they bade adieu to the Eskimos, shaking hands again
all around. Kuglutuk, his kayak in tow, took his place in the power
boat, “Oksunae” was shouted by those afloat and those on land, and
the little settlement was quickly lost sight of around the point at
the entrance of the cove.
On board the _North Star_ again, a conference was held as to the most
probable point at which salmon and trout could be found, Tom acting as
interpreter. It was at length decided, upon Kuglutuk’s recommendation,
to visit the rivers flowing into Richmond Gulf, which, considerably
farther south, offered greater promise that salmon would take the fly,
though Kuglutuk assured them that both varieties of fish abounded in
all the streams of the coast.
Three days later found the _North Star_ in the latitude of Richmond
Gulf, and with much careful maneuvering under the guidance of
Kuglutuk, and with frequent heaving of the lead, a safe anchorage was
found in Nastapoka Sound, behind the islands which shut out the wider
sea beyond.
The entrance to Richmond Gulf is an exceedingly narrow, treacherous
channel, through which Kuglutuk declared no vessel so large as the
_North Star_ could pass in safety. Through this channel he said the
rising and ebbing tide poured with so terrific a rush of the waters
that dangerous whirlpools were formed, which rendered its safe passage
for kayaks and small craft impossible save at the time of the turning
of the tide.
It was late afternoon when the ship made her anchorage, and it was
decided to prepare for the passage of the dangerous strait in the
power boat when the tide should reach flood at ten o’clock the next
morning.
Kuglutuk, Tom Hand and Dan Rudd were to accompany the three sportsmen,
and it was planned that the party should carry a full camping
equipment, and remain at the head of Richmond Gulf one week.
The weather was propitious--mild, clear, delightful. This was to be
Paul’s first experience in camp. Before him lay a rugged, unpeopled,
unknown wilderness. He was to enter it and be a part of it. The
romance of it thrilled him, and he lay awake that night a long while,
feasting anticipation and imagination, too restless to sleep.