CHAPTER XV.LIFE OR DEATH?
After the great five days’ storm, which lasted until the 4th of October, the whole country was buried in snow, and every possibility of finding even a little moss for fuel was excluded. Winter indeed had overtaken us. Ice was forming all along the shore of the Bay, and it was evident that within a very few days travel by canoe must be at an end.
On the above date, though light snow continued to fall, the wind had gone down sufficiently to admit of launching the canoes after a long portage out to meet the tide. In spite of the most vigorous exertion, all we were able to make during the day was ten miles, and that through a chilling spray which froze upon us and encased canoes and men in an armor of ice. We had great difficulty in getting ashore at night, having again to portage a long distance over the low-tide boulder flats.
On the following morning the water of the Bay was out of sight, and it was not until about noon, when the tide flowed in, that we were able to float the canoes. We were so obstructed by the new ice and a strong head-wind, that we were not able to make more than a mile or two before being again forced to struggle to theshore. At this rate we would be a long time in reaching Churchill. We had now been more than three weeks on the coast, and were still at least two hundred and fifty miles from our haven.
Some different mode of travel must be adopted or we should never get in. The shore ice was forming rapidly and might now block us at any time. We had not more than enough meat for another day or two, and the game had all left the country. What was to be done? My brother and I talked the matter over during the night. The plan suggested itself of abandoning everything but rifles and blankets, and starting down the shore on foot. But then, how could the numerous large rivers, which were still open, be crossed? Again, to this plan there was the objection that having been in canoes all summer, our party, though still strong enough to paddle, was in very poor condition to walk. The only other feasible plan was then suggested. It was to abandon dunnage, instruments, rock collection, etc., everything except note-books, photographs, plant collection, rifles, blankets, and two small tents, and with these to start out in only two light canoes, and with the increased force in them to travel for our lives.
This plan was decided on, and in the morning the men were set to work to cache all our stuff excepting the articles above mentioned. This occupied the whole morning, and to us it was a sad and lonely task, but as it seemed to be the only way by which we might hope to escape from this dreary ice-bound coast, it was felt to be a necessary one. As secure a cache as we could build was made, and then with heavy hearts we turned our steps toward the shore.
After launching the two canoes it was with great danger and difficulty we were able to force a way through the broken but heavy shore-ice to the open water beyond. Having once gotten clear, we were able to make good progress, and even at great risk of being smashed upon some of the many rocks, we paddled far into the night; but at a late hour, being sheathed in ice from the freezing spray we landed, and, without supper, lay down to sleep upon the snow.
Eight more dreary days passed, six of which were spent in battling with the elements and two in lying storm-stayed in our tents. During this interval our party suffered much from cold and lack of food, and to make matters worse, dysentery attacked us, and it appeared as if one of our men would die.
The ice had been all the while forming, rendering it more and more difficult to launch or get ashore. Our frail crafts were being badly battered, and often were broken through by the ice, and the low character of the coast had not improved. Still with hollow cheeks and enfeebled strength we struggled on, sometimes making fair progress and at others very little, until on October the 14th, as we advanced, the ice became so heavy, and extended so far out to sea, that in order to clear it we had to go quite out of sight of land.
Towards evening we began to look about for some opportunity of going ashore, but nothing could be seen before us but a vast field of ice with occasional protruding boulders. We pushed on, hoping to find some bluff point or channel of water by which we might reach the shore, but the appearance of things did not change in the slightest. We stood up in the canoes orclimbed upon boulders, vainly hoping to at least get a glimpse of the land. Of course, we knew the direction in which the shore lay, but it was so low, and we were so far out, that it was beyond our view.
Soon the shades of night began to fall about us, our canoes were leaking badly and the weather was bitterly cold. Failing to reach the shore, we resolved to wait for high tide, about ten o’clock, hoping we might with it do better. The tide came, but left us still in the same condition, no more able to penetrate the ice or gain the shore than before. It had become intensely dark, and we were in great danger of being smashed on the ice or rocks. We were utterly helpless and could do nothing but remain where we were, or go where the tide chose to carry us, until the return of daylight.
The hours of that night were the longest I have ever experienced, and the odds seemed to be against us surviving until morning; but at last the day returned and found us still alive. My brother was nearly frozen, having been obliged to sit or lie in icy water all night. Poor little Michel had both of his feet frozen, and the rest of us were badly used up. Still we were in the same position as on the night before. We could not hold out much longer; we must gain the shore or perish. At the time of high tide, the ice being somewhat loosened, our canoes were thrust into the pack, and by great exertion as well as much care we succeeded about one o’clock in reaching solid ice, upon which we were able to land and, for the last time, haul out our noble little crafts. We had been in them just thirty hours, battling with the ice, exposed to a chilling winterblast, our clothing saturated and frozen, and our bodies faint and numb with starvation and cold. But we were now within reach of the land, and all of us who were able gladly scrambled out upon the ice to stretch our cramped and stiffened limbs. My brother was in a perishing condition from the exposure of the night. He had been barely able to keep his canoe afloat by bailing, and had sat in the icy water for seventeen hours. I wrapped him up as warmly as I could and administered half a bottle of Jamaica ginger, the last of our stock. We then set about hauling the canoes over the ice to the shore, which we soon reached, and where we were so fortunate as to find drift-wood. A fire was quickly made, camp pitched, and better still, a meal prepared. On the previous day a seal, the only one secured on the trip, had been shot, and we were now in a position to appreciate it. The three western men were still fairly strong, but the remaining five of us were very weak and badly used up. We knew now, however, that we could be no great distance from Churchill, for we had again reached the wooded country, and two or three miles back from the shore could be seen dark clumps of spruce trees. This was a most consoling fact, for besides having meat for several days, we felt that we would have shelter and fire.
As to launching our canoes again, that was entirely out of the question. If we would reach Churchill at all it must be by land.
As most of us were unable to walk, the only course open appeared to be to send on some of the stronger men to, if possible, reach the fort and bring back a relief party. This plan was proposed, and two of the westernmen, “Jim” and John, volunteered to undertake the walk. We thought the distance could not be more than fifty miles, and it might be considerably less. On the morning of the 16th the two men set out on their journey, while those of us remaining proceeded to move our tents back from the shore about two miles to the nearest woods, where we might make ourselves more comfortable, to await the success or failure of the relief party.
A sheltered spot was selected for camp, in a thick grove of spruce trees, and after clearing away about two feet of snow which covered the ground, tents were pitched, then well carpeted with spruce boughs, and a big camp-fire made. This was indeed a happy change from lying in canoes in the ice-pack. Clothing and blankets were now dried, and with the seal meat, and some ptarmigan which we shot in the grove, we were soon comparatively comfortable, with the exception perhaps of poor Michel, who suffered much from his frozen feet.
The reviving effect of the camp-fire upon our numb and half-frozen bodies was soon felt, though with the exception of François, the western half-breed, all of us at the camp were still very weak. Our veteran Pierre, who had done such good service with the paddle, now staggered in his walk, and as we were moving the tents from the shore back to the woods, he fell from sheer exhaustion and had difficulty in regaining his feet. Now in camp, however, and with meat enough to last us for a day or two, we were in a position to take a rest from our labors. Poor Michel’s feet were in a bad state, and having no proper means of treating them, theycaused us much anxiety. His brother Louis was also in a wretched condition from the effects of severe dysentery caused by exposure and starvation, and was unable to walk.
On the morning of the 17th, feeling somewhat revived after a long night’s rest, I undertook to go hunting ptarmigan, which we were glad to find were plentiful in the woods about us. Had it not been for the fact that our ammunition was almost exhausted, the occurrence of these birds in abundance would have afforded us greater consolation, but being, as we were, reduced to a dozen or two charges, the opportunity for living on feathered game seemed limited to a short period. We were hoping that Jim and John might be successful in reaching Churchill. Before I had walked a hundred yards from camp, I was forced to realize how weak I had become, and after making a circuit of about half a mile and shooting only two or three birds, I was scarcely able to crawl back to the tent. On my return, François, taking the shot-gun, went out and returned in the evening with a fine bag of game.
On waking the next morning, my brother amused us by relating an extraordinary dream, in which he imagined he was luxuriating in good things, and particularly sweet currant cakes, for which he was exhibiting a wonderful capacity. But alas! with the visions of the night the cakes had vanished, and for breakfast he was forced to be content with unseasoned boiled ptarmigan.
At about one o’clock in the day, as we were seated within the tent partaking of our second meal, we were suddenly startled by hearing the exclamation, “Hullo, Jim!” The eagerness with which we scrambled overdinner and dishes to the tent-door can better be imagined than described, and on looking out, sure enough there was Jim returning. Was he alone? No, thank the Lord! Behind him, a moment later, emerged from the woods a number of men, followed by teams of dogs and sleds. One after the other there came scampering along no less than four teams, hauling long empty sleds capable of furnishing accommodation for our whole outfit.
After a hard two days’ tramp, Jim and John had reached the Fort, where they had found kind friends ready to send us prompt assistance. Dog teams had been placed at their disposal, provisions supplied, and early on the morning of the same day on which they had found us, the train had set out for our relief. With light sleds they had travelled at a rapid pace over the thirty miles of snowy plains which separated us from Churchill. Another day of good travel in the canoes would have taken us in, had this been afforded us.
As the relief party drew up at our camp, Jim advanced and handed letters to my brother and myself expressing kind wishes and sympathy from Mr. and Mrs. Lofthouse, the Church of England missionary and his wife at the Fort, whose friendship I had the privilege of making on two former visits to Churchill. Along with the letters was handed a box, which when opened was found to contain the very good things of my brother’s dream, even to the sweet currant cakes. Staple provisions were also produced, and it is scarcely necessary to say that they were joyfully welcomed. It would be impossible to describe our feelings upon this occasion, the termination of so many hardships and sufferings.During the afternoon preparations were made for the journey to the Fort on the following day. The canoes were hauled up from the shore, where we had been obliged to leave them, and loaded upon two of the dog-sleds. Camp outfit and provisions were loaded upon the others, and as far as possible everything was put in readiness for an early start in the morning.
A change in the weather was already forecast, the wind shifting around to the south, and towards evening it became decidedly milder. During the night a rain set in, and between it and the warm wind a wonderful change was wrought before dawn. It began to look very much as if the fates were against us, and that now with the sleds and dog-teams we should have no snow to travel on. But before daylight camp was astir, and finding that enough yet remained, breakfast was partaken of by the light of the camp-fire and at the first streaks of dawn the journey on sleds to Churchill was begun.
Out of the woods there was comparatively little of the snow left. Under cover of the trees it was still deep, but too soft and heavy for the teams, so we kept along on the open plains between the woods and the shore, and made fair progress.
The arrangement of our party was as follows: As guide an Indian named James Westasecot led the way some distance ahead of the train. Next after him came a team of six big Eskimo dogs hitched two and two abreast to a long sled carrying the big canoe, in which Michel was given a passage. Following this team was another hauling the smaller canoe, in which I was rolledup in my blankets. The third team consisted of only four dogs and, in a carryall, hauled my brother and some of the baggage; and at the rear of the train trotted another full team of six dogs with Louis, the sick Iroquois, and the camp outfit. The rest of our men walked behind or beside the various sleds, resting themselves by jumping on when the travelling was easy, as it often was when crossing level plains or frozen ponds—of which latter there were very many.
The day was beautifully bright and pleasant for one travelling as I was, but for the drivers and dogs it was much too warm for comfort. In many places the higher ground was bare, and progress consequently slow.
About noon a halt was made for lunch, and during this time the opinion was expressed by the drivers that we would not be able to reach the Fort until the next day; but upon being promised that if they would take us in without having to spend another night in camp they should have whatever remained of the supplies they had brought us, they were induced to change their minds, and acting upon the new inspiration we were soon again on our way. In many places the low flat plains we traversed were overgrown by clumps of swamp willow, and around these many large flocks of ptarmigan were seen. About three o’clock in the afternoon we reached Grassy Island, at the bottom of Button’s Bay, and two hours later gained the base of a long range of rocky hills. We skirted the foot of these for some time, until we reached a low place in the ridge, where, dismounting to lighten the loads, we turned up the steep pass, and after a short climb to the crest found ourselves within full view of Fort Churchill. It was notan imposing place, but even though consisting of only four or five old frame buildings, the sight to us was one of deep satisfaction. For a moment we paused on the summit of the ridge, then at the crack of the driver’s whip the teams bounded forward, galloped down the steep slope, sped across the plains below, and in a few minutes landed us at the house of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s traders. Here, after extricating ourselves from the various conveyances, we were presently received by a tall young Scotchman, who announced himself as Mr. Matheson, Master of the Fort.
FRENCH-SALTEAUX GIRL.
FRENCH-SALTEAUX GIRL.
FRENCH-SALTEAUX GIRL.