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THE STORY OF GRENFELL OF THE LABRADOR
[Illustration: THE PHYSICIAN IN THE LABRADOR]
The Story of Grenfell
of the Labrador
A Boy's Life of Wilfred T. Grenfell
By
DILLON WALLACE,
Author of "_Grit-a-Plenty_," "_The Ragged Inlet Guards_,"
"_Ungava Bob_," etc., etc.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK CHICAGO
Fleming H. Revell Company
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
Copyright, 1922, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave.
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street
Foreword
In a land where there was no doctor and no school, and through an evil
system of barter and trade the people were practically bound to
serfdom, Doctor Wilfred T. Grenfell has established hospitals and
nursing stations, schools and co-operative stores, and raised the
people to a degree of self dependence and a much happier condition of
life. All this has been done through his personal activity, and is
today being supported through his personal administration.
The author has lived among the people of Labrador and shared some of
their hardships. He has witnessed with his own eyes some of the
marvelous achievements of Doctor Grenfell. In the following pages he
has made a poor attempt to offer his testimony. The book lays no claim
to either originality or literary merit. It barely touches upon the
field. The half has not been told.
He also wishes to acknowledge reference in compiling the book to old
files and scrapbooks of published articles concerning Doctor Grenfell
and his work, to Doctor Grenfell's book _Vikings of Today_, and to
having verified dates and incidents through Doctor Grenfell's
Autobiography, published by Houghton Mifflin & Company, of Boston.
D.W.
_Beacon, N.Y._
Contents
I. THE SANDS OF DEE 11
II. THE NORTH SEA FLEETS 26
III. ON THE HIGH SEAS 31
IV. DOWN ON THE LABRADOR 39
V. THE RAGGED MAN IN THE RICKETY BOAT 52
VI. OVERBOARD! 61
VII. IN THE BREAKERS 68
VIII. AN ADVENTUROUS VOYAGE 74
IX. IN THE DEEP WILDERNESS 83
X. THE SEAL HUNTER 99
XI. UNCLE WILLY WOLFREY 109
XII. A DOZEN FOX TRAPS 116
XIII. SKIPPER TOM'S COD TRAP 126
XIV. THE SAVING OF RED BAY 135
XV. A LAD OF THE NORTH 146
XVI. MAKING A HOME FOR THE ORPHANS 158
XVII. THE DOGS OF THE ICE TRAIL 171
XVIII. FACING AN ARCTIC BLIZZARD 183
XIX. HOW AMBROSE WAS MADE TO WALK 193
XX. LOST ON THE ICE FLOE 203
XXI. WRECKED AND ADRIFT 213
XXII. SAVING A LIFE 219
XXIII. REINDEER AND OTHER THINGS 225
XXIV. THE SAME GRENFELL 233
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
The Physician in the LABRADOR _Title_
The LABRADOR "LIVEYERE" 40
"Sails North to Remain Until the End of Summer,
Catching Cod" 46
The Doctor on a Winter's Journey 84
"The Trap is Submerged a Hundred Yards or so from Shore" 130
"NEXT" 172
"Please Look at My Tongue, Doctor" 172
The Hospital Ship, STRATHCONA 220
"I Have a Crew Strong Enough to Take You into My District" 234
I
THE SANDS OF DEE
The first great adventure in the life of our hero occurred on the
twenty-eighth day of February in the year 1865. He was born that day.
The greatest adventure as well as the greatest event that ever comes
into anybody's life is the adventure of being born.
If there is such a thing as luck, Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, as his
parents named him, fell into luck, when he was born on February
twenty-eighth, 1865. He might have been born on February twenty-ninth
one year earlier, and that would have been little short of a
catastrophe, for in that case his birthdays would have been separated
by intervals of four years, and every boy knows what a hardship it
would be to wait four years for a birthday, when every one else is
having one every year. There _are_ people, to be sure, who would like
their birthdays to be four years apart, but they are not boys.
Grenfell was also lucky, or, let us say, fortunate in the place where
he was born and spent his early boyhood. His father was Head Master of
Mostyn House, a school for boys at Parkgate, England, a little
fishing village not far from the historic old city of Chester. By
referring to your map you will find Chester a dozen miles or so to the
southward of Liverpool, though you may not find Parkgate, for it is so
small a village that the map makers are quite likely to overlook it.
Here at Parkgate the River Dee flows down into an estuary that opens
out into the Irish Sea, and here spread the famous "Sands of Dee,"
known the world over through Charles Kingsley's pathetic poem, which
we have all read, and over which, I confess, I shed tears when a boy:
O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the Sands o' Dee;
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam,
And all alone went she.
The creeping tide came up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see;
The blinding mist came down and hid the land--
And never home came she.
Oh is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--
A tress o' golden hair,
O' drown'ed maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair,
Among the stakes on Dee.
They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel, crawling foam,
The cruel, hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea;
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,
Across the Sands o' Dee.
Charles Kingsley and the poem become nearer and dearer to us than ever
with the knowledge that he was a cousin of Grenfell, and knew the
Sands o' Dee, over which Grenfell tramped and hunted as a boy, for the
sandy plain was close by his father's house.
There was a time when the estuary was a wide deep harbor, and really a
part of Liverpool Bay, and great ships from all over the world came
into it and sailed up to Chester, which in those days was a famous
port. But as years passed the sands, loosened by floods and carried
down by the river current, choked and blocked the harbor, and before
Grenfell was born it had become so shallow that only fishing vessels
and small craft could use it.
Parkgate is on the northern side of the River Dee. On the southern
side and beyond the Sands of Dee, rise the green hills of Wales,
melting away into blue mysterious distance. Near as Wales is the
people over there speak a different tongue from the English, and to
young Grenfell and his companions it was a strange and foreign land
and the people a strange and mysterious people. We have most of us,
in our young days perhaps, thought that all Welshmen were like Taffy,
of whom Mother Goose sings:
"Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief,
Taffy came to my house and stole a piece of beef;
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy wasn't home,
Taffy came to my house and stole a marrow bone;
I went to Taffy's house, Taffy was in bed,
I took the marrow-bone, and beat about his head."
But it was Grenfell's privilege, living so near, to make little visits
over into Wales, and he early had an opportunity to learn that Taffy
was not in the least like Welshmen. He found them fine, honest,
kind-hearted folk, with no more Taffys among them than there are among
the English or Americans. The great Lloyd George, perhaps the greatest
of living statesmen, is a Welshman, and by him and not by Taffy, we
are now measuring the worth of this people who were the near neighbors
of Grenfell in his young days.
Mostyn House, where Grenfell lived, overlooked the estuary. From the
windows of his father's house he could see the fishing smacks going
out upon the great adventurous sea and coming back laden with fish.
Living by the sea where he heard the roar of the breakers and every
day smelled the good salt breath of the ocean, it was natural that he
should love it, and to learn, almost as soon as he could run about,
to row and sail a boat, and to swim and take part in all sorts of
water sports. Time and again he went with the fishermen and spent the
night and the day with them out upon the sea. This is why it was
fortunate that he was born at Parkgate, for his life there as a boy
trained him to meet adventures fearlessly and prepared him for the
later years which were destined to be years of adventure.
Far up the river, wide marshes reached; and over these marshes, and
the Sands of Dee, Grenfell roamed at will. His father and mother were
usually away during the long holidays when school was closed, and he
and his brothers were left at these times with a vast deal of freedom
to do as they pleased and seek the adventure that every boy loves, and
on the sands and in the marshes there was always adventure enough to
be found.
Shooting in the marshes and out upon the sands was a favorite sport,
and when not with the fishermen Grenfell was usually to be found with
his gun stalking curlew, oyster diggers, or some other of the numerous
birds that frequented the marshes and shores. Barefooted, until the
weather grew too cold in autumn, and wearing barely enough clothing to
cover his nakedness, he would set out in early morning and not return
until night fell.
As often as not he returned from his day's hunting empty handed so far
as game was concerned, but this in no wise detracted from the pleasure
of the hunt. Game was always worth the getting, but the great joy was
in being out of doors and in tramping over the wide flats. With all
the freedom given him to hunt, he early learned that no animals or
birds were to be killed on any account save for food or purposes of
study. This is the rule of every true sportsman. Grenfell has always
been a great hunter and a fine shot, but he has never killed
needlessly.
Young Grenfell through these expeditions soon learned to take a great
deal of interest in the habits of birds and their life history. This
led him to try his skill at skinning and mounting specimens. An old
fisherman living near his home was an excellent hand at this and gave
him his first lessons, and presently he developed into a really expert
taxidermist, while his brother made the cases in which he mounted and
exhibited his specimens.
His interest in birds excited an interest in flowers and plants and
finally in moths and butterflies. The taste for nature study is like
the taste for olives. You have to cultivate it, and once the taste is
acquired you become extremely fond of it. Grenfell became a student of
moths and butterflies. He captured, mounted and identified specimens.
He was out of nights with his net hunting them and "sugaring" trees to
attract them, and he even bred them. A fine collection was the result,
and this, together with one of flowers and plants, was added to that
of his mounted birds. In the course of time he had accumulated a
creditable museum of natural history, which to this day may be seen
at Mostyn House, in Parkgate; and to it have been added specimens of
caribou, seals, foxes, porcupines and other Labrador animals, which in
his busy later years he has found time to mount, for he is still the
same eager and devoted student of nature.
During these early years, with odds and ends of boards that they
collected, Grenfell and his brother built a boat to supply a better
means of stealing upon flocks of water birds. It was a curious
flat-bottomed affair with square ends and resembled a scow more than a
rowboat, but it served its purpose well enough, and was doubtless the
first craft which the young adventurer, later to become a master
mariner, ever commanded. Up and down the estuary, venturing even to
the sea, the two lads cruised in their clumsy craft, stopping over
night with the kind-hearted fishermen or "sleeping out" when they
found themselves too far from home. Many a fine time the ugly little
boat gave them until finally it capsized one day leaving them to swim
for it and reach the shore as best they could.
At the age of fourteen Grenfell was sent to Marlborough "College,"
where he had earned a scholarship. This was not a college as we speak
of a college in America, but a large university preparatory school.
In the beginning he had a fight with an "old boy," and being victor
firmly established his place among his fellow students. Whether at
Mostyn House, or later at Marlborough College, Grenfell learned early
to use the gloves. It was quite natural, devoted as he was to
athletics, that he should become a fine boxer. To this day he loves
the sport, and is always ready to put on the gloves for a bout, and it
is a mighty good man that can stand up before him. In most boys'
schools of that day, and doubtless at Marlborough College, boys
settled their differences with gloves, and in all probability Grenfell
had plenty of practice, for he was never a mollycoddle. He was perhaps
not always the winner, but he was always a true sportsman. There is a
vast difference between a "sportsman" and a "sport." Grenfell was a
sportsman, never a sport. His life in the open taught him to accept
success modestly or failure smilingly, and all through his life he has
been a sportsman of high type.
The three years that Grenfell spent at Marlborough College were active
ones. He not only made good grades in his studies but he took a
leading part in all athletics. Study was easy for him, and this made
it possible to devote much time to physical work. Not only did he
become an expert boxer, but he had no difficulty in making the school
teams, in football, cricket, and other sports that demanded skill,
nerve and physical energy.
Like all youngsters running over with the joy of youth and life, he
got into his full share of scrapes. If there was anything on foot,
mischievous or otherwise, Grenfell was on hand, though his mischief
and escapades were all innocent pranks or evasion of rules, such as
going out of bounds at prohibited hours to secure goodies. The greater
the element of adventure the keener he was for an enterprise. He was
not by any means always caught in his pranks, but when he was he
admitted his guilt with heroic candor, and like a hero stood up for
his punishment. Those were the days when the hickory switch in
America, and the cane in England, were the chief instruments of
torture.
With the end of his course at Marlborough College, Grenfell was
confronted with the momentous question of his future and what he was
to do in life. This is a serious question for any young fellow to
answer. It is a question that involves one's whole life. Upon the
decision rests to a large degree happiness or unhappiness, content or
discontent, success or failure.
It impressed him now as a question that demanded his most serious
thought. For the first time there came to him a full realization that
some day he would have to earn his way in the world with his own brain
and hands. A vista of the future years with their responsibilities,
lay before him as a reality, and he decided that it was up to him to
make the most of those years and to make a success of life. No doubt
this realization fell upon him as a shock, as it does upon most lads
whose parents have supplied their every need. Now he was called upon
to decide the matter for himself, and his future education was to be
guided by his choice.
At various periods of his youthful career nearly every boy has an
ambition to be an Indian fighter, or a pirate, or a locomotive
engineer, or a fireman and save people from burning buildings at the
risk of his own life, or to be a hunter of ferocious wild animals.
Grenfell had dreamed of a romantic and adventurous career. Now he
realized that these ambitions must give place to a sedate profession
that would earn him a living and in which he would be contented.
All of his people had been literary workers, educators, clergymen, or
officers in the army or navy. There was Charles Kingsley and "Westward
Ho." There was Sir Richard Grenvil, immortalized by Tennyson in "The
Revenge." There was his own dear grandfather who was a master at Rugby
under the great Arnold, whom everybody knows through "Tom Brown at
Rugby."
It was the wish of some of his friends and family that he become a
clergyman. This did not in the least suit his tastes, and he
immediately decided that whatever profession he might choose, it would
_not_ be the ministry. The ministry was distasteful to him as a
profession, and he had no desire or intention to follow in the
footsteps of his ancestors. He wished to be original, and to blaze a
new trail for himself.
Grenfell was exceedingly fond of the family physician, and one day he
went to him to discuss his problem. This physician had a large
practice. He kept several horses to take him about the country
visiting his patients, and in his daily rounds he traveled many miles.
This was appealing to one who had lived so much out of doors as
Grenfell had. As a doctor he, too, could drive about the country
visiting patients. He could enjoy the sunshine and feel the drive of
rain and wind in his face. He rebelled at the thought of engaging in
any profession that would rob him of the open sky. But he also
demanded that the profession he should choose should be one of
creative work. This would be necessary if his life were to be happy
and successful.
Observing the old doctor jogging along the country roads visiting his
far-scattered patients, it occurred to Grenfell that here was not only
a pleasant but a useful profession. With his knowledge of medicine the
doctor assisted nature in restoring people to health. Man must have a
well body if he would be happy and useful. Without a well body man's
hands would be idle and his brain dull. Only healthy men could invent
and build and administer. It was the doctor's job to keep them fit.
Here then was creative work of the highest kind! The thought thrilled
him!
Every boy of the right sort yearns to be of the greatest possible use
in the world. Unselfishness is a natural instinct. Boys are not born
selfish. They grow selfish because of association or training, and
because they see others about them practicing selfishness. Grenfell's
whole training had been toward unselfishness and usefulness. Here was
a life calling that promised both unselfish and useful service and at
the same time would gratify his desire to be a great deal out of
doors, and he decided at once that he would study medicine and be a
doctor.
His father was pleased with the decision. His course at Marlborough
College was completed, and he immediately took special work
preparatory to entering London Hospital and University.
In the University he did well. He passed his examinations creditably
at the College of Physicians and Surgeons and at London University,
and had time to take a most active part in the University athletics as
a member of various 'Varsity teams. At one time or another he was
secretary of the cricket, football and rowing clubs, and he took part
in several famous championship games, and during one term that he was
in residence at Oxford University he played on the University football
team.
One evening in 1885 Grenfell, largely through curiosity, dropped into
a tent where evangelistic meetings were in progress. The evangelists
conducting the meeting happened to be the then famous D.L. Moody and
Ira D. Sankey. Both Mr. Moody and Mr. Sankey were men of marvelous
power and magnetism. Moody was big, wholesome and practical. He
preached a religion of smiles and happiness and helpfulness. He lived
what he preached. There was no humbug or hypocrisy in him. Sankey
never had a peer as a leader of mass singing.
Moody was announcing a hymn when Grenfell entered. Sankey, in his
illimitable style, struck up the music. In a moment the vast audience
was singing as Grenfell had never heard an audience sing before. After
the hymn Moody spoke. Grenfell told me once that that sermon changed
his whole outlook upon life. He realized that he was a Christian in
name only and not in fact. His religious life was a fraud.
There and then he determined that he must be either an out and out
Christian or honestly renounce Christianity. With his home training
and teachings he could not do the latter. He decided upon a Christian
life. He would do nothing as a doctor that he could not do with a
clear conscience as a Christian gentleman. This he also decided: a
man's religion is something for him to be proud of and any one ashamed
to acknowledge the faith of his fathers is a moral coward, and a moral
coward is more contemptible than a physical coward. He also was
convinced that a boy or man afraid or ashamed to acknowledge his
religious belief could only be a mental weakling.
It was characteristic of Grenfell that whatever he attempted to do he
did with courage and enthusiasm. He never was a slacker. The hospital
to which he was attached was situated in the centre of the worst slums
of London. It occurred to him that he might help the boys, and he
secured a room, fitted it up as a gymnasium, and established a sort of
boys' club, where on Sundays he held a Bible study class and where he
gave the boys physical work on Saturdays. There was no Y.M.C.A. in
England at that time where they could enjoy these privileges. In the
beginning, there were young thugs who attempted to make trouble. He
simply pitched them out, and in the end they were glad enough to
return and behave themselves.
Grenfell and his brother, with one of their friends, spent the long
holidays when college was closed cruising along the coast in an old
fishing smack which they rented. In the course of his cruising, the
thought came to him that it was hardly fair to the boys in the slums
to run away from them and enjoy himself in the open while they
sweltered in the streets, and he began at once to plan a camp for the
boys.
This was long before the days of Boy Scouts and their camps. It was
before the days of any boys' camps in England. It was an original idea
with him that a summer camp would be a fine experience for his boys.
At his own expense he established such a camp on the Welsh coast, and
during every summer until he finished his studies in the University he
took his boys out of the city and gave them a fine outing during a
part of the summer holiday period. It was just at this time that the
first boys' camp in America was founded by Chief Dudley as an
experiment, now the famous Camp Dudley on Lake Champlain. We may
therefore consider Grenfell as one of the pioneers in making popular
the boys' camp idea, and every boy that has a good time in a summer
camp should thank him.
But a time comes when all things must end, good as well as bad, and
the time came when Grenfell received his degree and graduated a
full-fledged doctor, and a good one, too, we may be sure. Now he was
to face the world, and earn his own bread and butter. Pleasant
holidays, and boys' camps were behind him. The big work of life, which
every boy loves to tackle, was before him.
Then it was that Dr. Frederick Treves, later Sir Frederick, a famous
surgeon under whom he had studied, made a suggestion that was to shape
young Dr. Grenfell's destiny and make his name known wherever the
English tongue is spoken.
II
THE NORTH SEA FLEETS
The North Sea, big as it is, has no great depth. Geologists say that
not long ago, as geologists calculate time, its bottom was dry land
and connected the British Isles with the continent of Europe. Then it
began to sink until the water swept in and covered it, and it is still
sinking. The deepest point in the North Sea is not more than thirty
fathoms, or one hundred eighty feet. There are areas where it is not
over five fathoms deep, and the larger part of it is less than twenty
fathoms.
Fish are attracted to the North Sea because it is shallow. Its bottom
forms an extensive fishing "bank," we might say, though it is not,
properly speaking, a bank at all, and here is found some of the finest
fishing in the world.
From time immemorial fishing fleets have gone to the North Sea, and
the North Sea fisheries is one of the important industries of Great
Britain. Men are born to it and live their lives on the small fishing
craft, and their sons follow them for generation after generation. It
is a hazardous calling, and the men of the fleets are brave and hardy
fellows.
The fishing fleets keep to the sea in winter as well as in summer, and
it is a hard life indeed when decks and rigging are covered with ice,
and fierce north winds blow the snow down, and the cold is bitter
enough to freeze a man's very blood. Seas run high and rough, which is
always the case in shallow waters, and great rollers sweep over the
decks of the little craft, which of necessity have small draft and low
freeboard.
The fishing fleets were like large villages on the sea. At the time of
which we write, and it may be so to this day, fast vessels came daily
to collect the fish they caught and to take the catch to market. Once
in every three months a vessel was permitted to return to its home
port for rest and necessary re-fitting, and then the men of her crew
were allowed one day ashore for each week they had spent at sea. Now
and again there came to the hospital sick or injured men returned from
the fleet on these home-coming vessels.
When Grenfell passed his final examinations in 1886, and was admitted
to the College of Physicians and Royal College of Surgeons of England,
Sir Frederick Treves suggested that he visit the North Sea fishing
fleets and lend his service to the fishermen for a time before
entering upon private practice. The great surgeon, himself a lover of
the sea and acquainted with Grenfell's inclinations toward an active
outdoor life, was also aware that Grenfell was a good sailor.
"Don't go in summer," admonished Sir Frederick. "Go in winter when you
can see the life of the men at its hardest and when they have the
greatest need of a doctor. Anyhow you'll have some rugged days at sea
if you go in winter."
He went on to explain that a few men had become interested in the
fishermen of the fleets and had chartered a vessel to go among them to
offer diversion in the hope of counteracting to some extent the
attraction of the whiskey and rum traders whose vessels sold much
liquor to the men and did a vast deal of harm. This vessel was open to
the visits of the fishermen. Religious services were held aboard her
on Sundays. There was no doctor in the fleet, and the skipper, who had
been instructed in ordinary bandaging and in giving simple remedies
for temporary relief, rendered first aid to the injured or sick until
they could be sent away on some home-bound vessel and placed in a
hospital for medical or surgical treatment. Thus a week or sometimes
two weeks would elapse before the sufferer could be put under a
doctor's care. Because of this long delay many men died who, with
prompt attention, would doubtless have lived.
"The men who have fitted out this mission boat would like a young
doctor to go with it," concluded Sir Frederick. "Go with them for a
little while. You'll find plenty of high sea's adventure, and you'll
like it."
In more than one way this suited Grenfell exactly. The opportunity
for adventure that such a cruise offered appealed to him strongly, as
it would appeal to any real live red-blooded man or boy. It also
offered an opportunity to gain practical experience in his profession
and at the same time render service to brave men who sadly needed it;
and he could lend a hand in fighting the liquor evil among the seamen
and thus share in helping to care for their moral, as well as their
physical welfare. He had seen much of the evils of the liquor traffic
during his student days in London, and he had acquired a wholesome
hatred for it. In short, he saw an opportunity to help make the lives
of these men happier. That is a high ideal for any one--to do
something whenever possible to bring happiness into the lives of
others.
This was too good an opportunity to let pass. It offered not only
practice in his profession but service for others, and there would be
the spice of adventure.
He applied without delay for the post, requesting to go on duty the
following January. Whether Sir Frederick Treves said a word for him to
the newly founded mission or not, I do not know, but at any rate
Grenfell, to his great delight, was accepted, and it is probable the
group of big hearted men who were sending the vessel to the fishermen
were no less pleased to secure the services of a young doctor of his
character.
At last the time came for departure. The mission ship was to sail
from Yarmouth. Grenfell had been impatiently awaiting orders to begin
his duties, when suddenly he received directions to join his vessel
prepared to go to sea at once. Filled with enthusiasm and keen for the
adventure he boarded the first train for Yarmouth.
It was a dark and rainy night when he arrived. Searching down among
the wharves he found the mission ship tied to her moorings. She proved
to be a rather diminutive schooner of the type and class used by the
North Sea fishermen, and if the young doctor had pictured a large and
commodious vessel he was disappointed. But Grenfell had been
accustomed in his boyhood to knocking about with fishermen and now he
was quite content with nothing better than fell to the lot of those he
was to serve.
The little vessel was neat as wax below deck. The crew were
big-hearted, brawny, good-natured fellows, and gave the Doctor a fine
welcome. Of course his quarters were small and crowded, but he was
bound on a mission and an adventure, and cramped quarters were no
obstacle to his enthusiasm. Grenfell was not the sort of man to growl
or complain at little inconveniences. He was thinking only of the
duties he had assumed and the adventures that were before him.
At last he was on the seas, and his life work, though he did not know
it then, had begun.
III
ON THE HIGH SEAS
The skipper of the vessel was a bluff, hearty man of the old school of
seamen. At the same time he was a sincere Christian devoted to his
duties. At the beginning he made it plain that Grenfell was to have
quite enough to do to keep him occupied, not only in his capacity as
doctor, but in assisting to conduct afloat a work that in many
respects resembled that of our present Young Men's Christian
Association ashore.
The mission steamer was now to run across to Ostend, Belgium, where
supplies were to be taken aboard before joining the fishing fleets.
It was bitterly cold, and while they lay at Ostend taking on cargo the
harbor froze over, and they found themselves so firm and fast in the
ice that it became necessary to engage a steamer to go around them to
break them loose. At last, cargo loaded and ice smashed, they sailed
away from Ostend and pointed their bow towards the great fleets, not
again to see land for two full months, save Heligoland and
Terschelling in the far distant offing.
The little vessel upon which Grenfell sailed was the first sent to
the fisheries by the now famous Mission to Deep-Sea Fishermen; and the
young Doctor on her deck, hardly yet realizing all that was expected
of him, was destined to do no small part in the development of the
splendid service that the Mission has since rendered the fishermen.
On the starboard side of the vessel's bow appeared in bold carved
letters the words, "Heal the sick," on the port side of the bow,
"Preach the Word."
"Preaching the Word" does not necessarily mean, and did not mean here,
getting up into a pulpit for an hour or two and preaching orthodox
sermons, sometimes as dry as dead husks, on Sundays. Sometimes just a
smile and a cheery greeting is the best sermon in the world, and the
finest sort of preaching. Just the example of living honestly and
speaking truthfully and always lending a hand to the fellow who is in
trouble or discouraged, is a fine sermon, for there is not a man or
boy living whose life and actions do not have an influence for good or
bad on some one else. We do not always realize this, but it is true.
Grenfell little dreamed of the future that this voyage was to open to
him. He knew little or nothing at that time of Labrador or
Newfoundland. He had never seen an Eskimo nor an American Indian,
unless he had chanced to visit a "wild west" show. He had no other
expectation than that he should make a single winter cruise with the
mission schooner, and then return to England and settle in some
promising locality to the practice of his profession, there to rise to
success or fade into hum-drum obscurity, as Providence might will.
The fishermen of the North Sea fleet were as rough and ready as the
old buccaneers. They were constantly risking their lives and they had
not much regard for their own lives or the lives of others. With them
life was cheap. Night and day they faced the dangers of the sea as
they worked at the trawls, and when they were not sleeping or working
there was no amusement for them. Then they were prone to resort to the
grog ships, which hovered around them, and they too often drank a
great deal more rum than was good for them. They were reared to a
rough and cruel life, these fishermen. Hard punishments were dealt the
men by the skippers. It was the way of the sea, as they knew it.
There were more than twenty thousand of these men in the North Sea
fleets. Grenfell must have been overwhelmed with the thought that he
was to be the only doctor within reach of that great number of men.
"Heal the sick"--that was his job!
But he resolved to do much more than that! He was going to "Preach the
Word" in smiles and cheering words, and was going to help the men in
other ways than with his pill box and surgical bandages. As a doctor
he realized how harmful liquor was to them, and he was going to fight
the grog ships and do his best to put them out of business. In a
word, he was not only going to doctor the men but he was going to help
them to live straight, clean lives. He was going to play the game as
he had played foot ball or pulled his oar with the winning crew at
college. He was going to put into it the best that was in him!
That was the way Grenfell always did everything he undertook. When he
had to pummel the "old boy" at Marlborough College he did it the best
he knew how. Now he had a big job on his hands. He resolved,
figuratively, to pummel the rum ships, and he was already planning and
inventing ways that would make the men's lives easier. He went into
the thing with his characteristic zeal, determined to make good. It is
a mighty fine thing to make good. Any of us can make good if we go at
things in the way Grenfell went at them--determined, whatever
obstacles arise, not to fail. Grenfell never whined about luck going
against him. He made his own luck. That is the mark of every
successful and big man.
"There are the fleets," said the skipper one day, pointing out over
the bow. "We'll make a round of the fleets, and you'll have a chance
to get busy patching the men up."
And he was busy. There came as many patients every day as any young
doctor could wish to treat. But that was what Grenfell wanted.
As the skipper suggested, the mission boat made a tour of the fleets,
of which there were several, each fleet with its own name and colours
and commanded by an Admiral. There were the Columbias, the Rashers,
the Great Northerners and many others. It was finally with the Great
Northerners that the mission boat took its station.
Grenfell visited among the vessels and made friends among the men, who
were like big boys, rough and ready. They were always prepared to go
into daring ventures. They never flinched at danger. Few of them had
ever enjoyed the privilege of going to school, and none of the men and
few of the skippers could write. They could read the compass just as
men who cannot read can tell the time of day from the clock. But they
had their method of dead reckoning and always appeared to know where
they were, even though land had not been sighted for days.
Most of these men had been apprentised to the vessels as boys and had
followed the sea all their lives. There were always many apprentised
boys on the ships, and these worked without other pay than clothing,
food and a little pocket money until they were twenty-one years of
age. In many cases they received little consideration from the
skippers and sometimes were treated with unnecessary roughness and
even cruelty.
From the beginning Doctor Grenfell devoted himself not only to healing
the sick, but also to bettering the condition of the fishermen. His
skill was applied to the healing of their moral as well as their
physical ills. Of necessity their life was a rough and rugged one, but
there were opportunities to introduce some pleasure into it and to
make it happier in many ways. Here was a strong human call that, from
the beginning, Grenfell could not resist.
Using his own influence together with the influence of other good men,
necessary funds were raised to meet the expenses of additional mission
ships, and additional doctors and workers were sent out. Those
selected were not only doctors, but men who were qualified by
character and ability to guide the seamen to better and cleaner and
more wholesome living. Queen Victoria became interested. The grog
ships were finally driven from the sea. Laws were enacted to better
conditions upon the fishing vessels that the lives of the fishermen
might be easier and happier. In the course of time, as the result of
Grenfell's tireless efforts, a marvelous change for the better took
place.
Thus the years passed. Dr. Grenfell, who in the beginning had given
his services to the Mission for a single winter, still remained. He
felt it a duty that he could not desert. The work was hard, and it
denied him the private practice and the home life to which he had
looked forward so hopefully. He never had the time to drive fine
horses about the country as he visited patients. But he had no
regrets. He had chosen to accept and share the life of the fishermen
on the high seas. It was no less a service to his country and to
mankind than the service of the soldier fighting in the trenches. When
he saw the need and heard the call he was willing enough to sacrifice
personal ambitions that he might help others to become finer, better
men, and live nobler happier lives.
Looking back over that period there is no doubt that Doctor Grenfell
feels a thousand times repaid for any sacrifices he may have made. It
is always that way. When we give up something for the other fellow, or
do some fine thing to help him, our pleasure at the happiness we have
given him makes us somehow forget ourselves and all we have given up.
And so came the year 1891. It was in that year that a member of the
Mission Board returned from a visit to Canada and Newfoundland and
reported to the Board great need of work among the Newfoundland
fishermen similar to that that had been done by Grenfell in the North
Sea.
The members of the Board were stirred by what they heard, and it was
decided to send a ship across the Atlantic. It was necessary that the
man in command be a doctor understanding the work to be done. It was
also necessary that he should be a man of high executive and
administrative ability, capable of organizing and carrying it on
successfully. The man that has made good is the man always looked for
to occupy such a post. Grenfell had made good in the North Sea. His
work there indeed had been a brilliant success. He was the one man the
Board thought of, and he was asked to go.
He accepted. Here was a new field of work and adventure offering ever
greater possibilities than the old, and he never hesitated about it.
He began preparations for the new enterprise at once. The _Albert_, a
little ketch-rigged vessel of ninety-seven tons register, was
selected. Iron hatches were put into her, she was sheathed with
greenhart to withstand the pressure of ice, and thoroughly refitted.
Captain Trevize, a Cornishman, was engaged as skipper. Though Doctor
Grenfell was himself a master mariner and thoroughly qualified as a
navigator, he had never crossed the Atlantic, and in any case he was
to be fully occupied with other duties. There was a crew of eight men
including the mate, Skipper Joe White, a famous skipper of the North
Sea fleets.
On June 15, 1892, the _Albert_ was towed out of Great Yarmouth Harbor,
and that day she spread her sails and set her course westward. The
great work of Doctor Grenfell's life was now to begin. All the years
of toil on the North Sea had been but an introduction to it and a
preparation for it. His little vessel was to carry him to the bleak
and desolate coast of Labrador and into the ice fields of the North.
He was to meet new and strange people, and he was destined to
experience many stirring adventures.
IV
DOWN ON THE LABRADOR
Heavy seas and head winds met the _Albert_, and she ran in at the
Irish port of Cookhaven to await better weather. In a day or two she
again spread her canvas, Fastnet Rock, at the south end of Ireland,
the last land of the Old World to be seen, was lost to view, and in
heavy weather she pointed her bow toward St. Johns, Newfoundland.
Twelve days later, in a thick fog, a huge iceberg loomed suddenly up
before them, and the _Albert_ barely missed a collision that might
have ended the mission. It was the first iceberg that Doctor Grenfell
had ever seen. Presently, and through the following years, they were
to become as familiar to him as the trees of the forests.
Four hundred years had passed since Cabot on his voyage of discovery
had, in his little caraval, passed over the same course that Grenfell
now sailed in the _Albert_. Nineteen days after Fastnet Rock was lost
to view, the shores of Newfoundland rose before them. That was fine
sailing for the landfall was made almost exactly opposite St. Johns.
The harbor of St. Johns is like a great bowl. The entrance is a narrow
passage between high, beetling cliffs rising on either side. From the
sea the city is hidden by hills flanked by the cliffs, and a vessel
must enter the narrow gateway and pass nearly through it before the
city of St. Johns is seen rising from the water's edge upon sloping
hill-sides on the opposite side of the harbor. It is one of the safest
as well as most picturesque harbors in the world.
As the _Albert_ approached the entrance Doctor Grenfell and the crew
were astonished to see clouds of smoke rising from within and
obscuring the sky. As they passed the cliffs waves of scorching air
met them.
The city was in flames. Much of it was already in ashes. Stark,
blackened chimneys rose where buildings had once stood. Flames were
still shooting upward from those as yet but partly consumed. Some of
the vessels anchored in the harbor were ablaze. Everything had been
destroyed or was still burning. The Colonial public buildings, the
fine churches, the great warehouses that had lined the wharves, even
the wharves themselves, were smouldering ruins, and scarcely a private
house remained. It was a scene of complete and terrible desolation.
The fire had even extended to the forests beyond the city, and for
weeks afterward continued to rage and carry destruction to quiet,
scattered homes of the country.
[Illustration: "THE LABRADOR 'LIVEYERE'"]
The cause or origin of the fire no one knew. It had come as a
devastating scourge. It had left the beautiful little city a mass of
blackened, smoking ruins.
The Newfoundlanders are as fine and brave a people as ever lived. Deep
trouble had come to them, but they met it with their characteristic
heroism. No one was whining, or wringing his hands, or crying out
against God. They were accepting it all as cheerfully as any people
can ever accept so sweeping a calamity. Benjamin Franklin said, "God
helps them that help themselves." That is as true of a city as it is
of a person. That is what the St. Johns people were doing, and
already, while the fire still burned, they were making plans to take
care of themselves and rebuild their city.
Of course Doctor Grenfell could do little to help with his one small
ship, but he did what he could. The officials and the people found
time to welcome him and to tell him how glad they were that he was to
go to Labrador to heal the sick of their fleets and make the lives of
the fishermen and the natives of the northern coast happier and
pleasanter.
A pilot was necessary to guide the _Albert_ along the uncharted coast
of Labrador. Captain Nicholas Fitzgerald was provided by the
Newfoundland government to serve in this capacity. Doctor Grenfell
invited Mr. Adolph Neilson, Superintendent of Fisheries for
Newfoundland, to accompany them, and he accepted the invitation, that
he might lend his aid to getting the work of the mission started. He
proved a valuable addition to the party. Then the _Albert_ sailed away
to cruise her new field of service.
It will be interesting to turn to a map and see for ourselves the
country to which Doctor Grenfell was going. We will find Labrador in
the northeastern corner of the North American continent, just as
Alaska is in the northwestern corner.
Like Alaska, Labrador is a great peninsula and is nearly, though not
quite, so large as Alaska. Some maps will show only a narrow strip
along the Atlantic east of the peninsula marked "Labrador." This is
incorrect. The whole peninsula, bounded on the south by the Gulf of
St. Lawrence and Straits of Belle Isle, the east by the Atlantic
Ocean, the north by Hudson Straits, the west by Hudson Bay and James
Bay and the Province of Quebec, is included in Labrador. The narrow
strip on the east is under the jurisdiction of Newfoundland, while the
remainder is owned by Quebec. Newfoundland is the oldest colony of
Great Britain. It is not a part of Canada, but has a separate
government.
The only people living in the interior of Labrador are a few wandering
Indians who live by hunting. There are still large parts of the
interior that have never been explored by white men, and of which we
know little or no more than was known of America when Columbus
discovered the then new world.
The people who live on the coast are white men, half-breeds and
Eskimos. None of these ever go far inland, and they live by fishing,
hunting, and trapping animals for the fur. Those on the south, as far
east as Blanc Sablon, on the straits of Belle Isle, speak French.
Eastward from Blanc Sablon and northward to a point a little north of
Indian Harbor at the northern side of the entrance of Hamilton Inlet,
English is spoken. The language on the remainder of the coast is
Eskimo, and nearly all of the people are Eskimos. Once upon a time the
Eskimos lived and hunted on the southern coast along the Straits of
Belle Isle, but only white people and half-breeds are now found south
of Hamilton Inlet.
The Labrador coast from Cape Charles in the south to Cape Chidley in
the north is scoured as clean as the paving stones of a street. Naked,
desolate, forbidding it lies in a somber mist. In part it is low and
ragged but as we pass north it gradually rises into bare slopes and
finally in the vicinity of Nachbak Bay high mountains, perpendicular
and grey, stand out against the sky.
Behind the storm-scoured rocky islands lie the bays and tickles and
runs and at the head of the bays the forest begins, reaching back over
rolling hills into the mysterious and unknown regions beyond. There
is not one beaten road in all the land. There is no sandy beach, no
grassy bank, no green field. Nature has been kind to Labrador,
however, in one respect. There are innumerable harbors snugly
sheltered behind the islands and well out of reach of the rolling
breakers and the wind. There is an old saying down on the Labrador
that "from one peril there are two ways of escape to three sheltered
places." The ice and fog are always perils but the skippers of the
coast appear to hold them in disdain and plunge forward through storm
and sea when any navigator on earth would expect to meet disaster. For
the most part the coast is uncharted and the skippers, many of whom
never saw an instrument of navigation in their life, or at least never
owned one, sail by rhyme:
"When Joe Bett's P'int you is abreast,
Dane's Rock bears due west.
West-nor'west you must steer,
'Til Brimstone Head do appear.
"The tickle's narrow, not very wide;
The deepest water's on the starboard side
When in the harbor you is shot,
Four fathoms you has got."