CHAPTER XVIII.CROSSING THE NELSON.

On the morning of the 11th of November our parties arranged to separate. The route of Mr. Matheson’s party henceforth lay away to the eastward, while our path still led to the south, toward the banks of the Nelson River. A place was prepared on our own dog-sled for crippled Michel; the team of six dogs was harnessed, and the flat sleds, including one for Eli, the son of old William the Indian, were loaded with all that the dogs were unable to haul. Our supplies by this time were diminished to the extent of about two hundred and fifty pounds, so that, even with the additional weight of a man, the loads were lighter than at the outset of the journey.

Loads being thus readjusted, and our feet harnessed to snowshoes, we bade farewell to our friends from the Fort, as well as to those of the forest, and made a new start.

The weather was now unusually mild for the month of November, making the snow soft, and even wet in some places. This made travelling hard for the team, as it caused the ice glazing to melt from the sled, and the mud shoeing to wear and drag heavily upon the track. My brother and I still suffered much from our crippledlimbs, but with considerable difficulty managed to keep up with the rest. After making a small day’s march we camped for the night on the bank of a stream called by the Indians White Bear Creek. The weather having turned colder during the night, making the prospects for travel more favorable, we started down stream the next morning upon the ice of the creek, and then across country to Duck Creek, where we found a second Indian camp, occupied by two Crees and their families.

From one of these Indians, named Morrison, we purchased an additional dog with which to supplement our team. The price asked was a new dress for one of the squaws, but as we had no dress-goods with us, the best we could offer was that the dress should be ordered at the Hudson’s Bay Company’s store at York, and delivered when the first opportunity afforded. After some consideration, and several pipes of tobacco, the offer was accepted and with seven dogs in our team the journey resumed. We followed the creek till it led us out to the low, dreary coast at the mouth of the Nelson, where, having left the woods several miles inland, we were exposed to the full sweep of a piercingly cold, raw, south-west wind.

We are accustomed to thinking of a coast as a definite, narrow shore-line; but to the inhabitants of the Hudson Bay region the word conveys a very different meaning. There the coast is a broad mud and boulder flat, several miles in width, always wet, and twice during the day flooded by the tide. At this time of the year the mud flats were covered by rough broken ice and drifted snow, but above high-tide mark the surface of the country was level and the walking good. For severalhours we tramped southward down the coast, with the cutting wind in our faces. During the afternoon we sought shelter, but finding none our course was altered and shaped for the nearest wood, several miles inland.

The great advantage of travelling on the open plain is that there the snow is driven hard, and hence the walking is much better than in the woods, where the snow is soft and deep. Nevertheless, when the weather is rough, as it was on this occasion, the heavy walking is preferable to travelling in the open country in the teeth of the storm.

For the remainder of the day we bore southward, and about sunset made camp on the south bank of a stream known as Sam’s Creek, in a lovely snow-laden, evergreen forest—an ideal Canadian winter woodland picture. From this beautiful but chilling scene our tramp was continued next morning at daylight. The low shore of the Nelson was again reached and followed, until about noon a decided change in the character of the land was observed. A boulder clay bank commenced to make its appearance, and this as we advanced rapidly reached an elevation of twenty-five or thirty feet, and as we proceeded up the river became higher and more thickly wooded. The change was a great relief from the level, treeless coast.

We were now well within the mouth of the great Nelson River, and could already, through the rising vapor, dimly see the outline of the opposite shore.

Considerable ice was coming down the river, and on this account we felt some anxiety as to crossing, but we were now within a few miles of the boat of which we had been informed, and it seemed possible that we mightyet cross the stream before nightfall. In the middle of the afternoon we found the boat drawn up at the mouth of Heart Creek, where the old Indian hunter had left it. It was a large heavily built sail-boat, capable of carrying our whole outfit in one load, but unfortunately the keel was deeply imbedded in the sand and there securely frozen. The only way to free it was to chop it out, and at this task as many hands were set as could find room to work. Long pries were cut and vigorously applied, but even with our united efforts we only managed to get the boat loosened by nightfall. We were obliged, therefore, to leave it until morning, and seek a place to camp.

During the night the wind, which had been blowing pretty strongly for two days past, increased to a gale from the north-west. This unwelcome guest did not come by himself, but brought with him his friend the snow-storm, and they two held high carnival all night, vying with each other as to which should cause the strange intruders in the grove the more discomfort. The gale shrieked through the trees and threatened to level our shelter, nor was he contented with this, but also entered the camp and played pranks with our fire and blankets. The more stealthy snow-storm, making less noise than his blustering friend, before daylight had filled the ravine with white drifts and almost buried us.

Such was our condition on the morning of the 14th. As this was the ninth day from Churchill, our supply of provisions was about exhausted, but we were now only one day’s march from York. After breakfast, despite the condition of the weather, all hands proceeded tothe boat, and by a united effort managed to drag it out to the edge of the shore-ice, but the tide being low there was no water to float it. We therefore had to await the flood-tide, which would not be up till about noon. Meanwhile the boat was loaded where it rested upon the sand, and at twelve o’clock, being lifted by the water, a canvas was hoisted, and through a dense fog which rose from the river we sailed up the shore to find a narrow part of the stream and avoid the broad shoals which extended out from the opposite shore.

Having proceeded some three miles up, to the vicinity of Flamboro’ Head, a bold headland, our course was altered and we steered into the fog for the south shore—about two miles distant. The wind was piercingly cold, instantly freezing every splash as it fell, and still blowing fresh, so that our ice-laden craft sped swiftly away on her course. Some floating ice was met, but successfully passed, and for a time it seemed as if the crossing would soon be effected; but suddenly there loomed out of the mist right ahead a dense field of ice, broken and rafted and hurrying down with the current. By putting the helm hard to starboard, and quickly dropping our canvas, we managed to keep clear of the mass; but what was now to be done?

The south shore was still hidden by dense volumes of vapor, and nothing could be seen in that direction but the adjacent fields of ice. On the north shore the dark outline of Flamboro’ Head could still be discerned, and it was resolved thence to beat our retreat. We were, however, unable to sail against the wind, but taking to the oars we managed, after a prolonged and difficult struggle, to regain the place whence we had started.

Once more on land, a camp was made, and a fire kindled to thaw out our stiffened limbs, while we awaited an opportunity to cross. The mist continued the rest of the day, preventing us from making a second attempt, and so we lay up for the night.

Next morning the fog had cleared away, revealing a dismal sight. On the south side the river was frozen over, and the ice firmly set for a mile or more from shore, while the channel of open water to the north was running full of heavy ice, making it quite impossible to use the boat, and equally impossible to effect a crossing on foot.

We had no alternative but to remain where we were, and hope for a change in the condition of the river. Not the least unpleasant feature of this waiting was that our provisions were now gone.

The men were at once sent out to hunt, and returned in the evening with nine ptarmigan, with which a goodbouillonwas made for supper. Besides this, Eli, the Indian boy, gave us some comforting information as to the existence of a fish cache of his father’s, not far distant. With this consoling knowledge we rolled up in our blankets and were soon dreaming of better times.

The next morning, there being no change in the river, two men and the dogs were sent after William’s fish cache, and four others went off hunting, while the rest remained at camp, collected wood, and kept the fire burning.

We had nothing to eat this day until evening, when the sledding party returned with a little bag and can of pounded dried fish, two or three gallons of seal oil, and some seal blubber for the dogs, all of which, though not exactly luxurious, we were heartily glad to receive.Later two of the hunters returned with several ptarmigan and one or two rabbits, and last of all, some time after dark, the remaining two—Jim and our noble guide—walked into camp carrying the carcase of a deer.

With careful use we had meat enough now to keep us from suffering for several days, and in order to guard against greed or waste my brother and I took possession of the stock and divided it up equally among the party, each man receiving in all about ten pounds.

Without narrating in detail the incidents following it will be sufficient to state that for ten long days our weary wait on the bleak banks of the Nelson was continued. From time to time the men were sent out to hunt, but except in the above instance were obliged to return empty-handed.

On the morning of the 19th, the guide and Jim, provided with rifles, blankets, axes and snowshoes, started up the river, determined to find deer if there were any in the neighborhood, and also to investigate the possibilities of crossing the river higher up.

Four days of bitterly cold weather passed, the thermometer varying from 12 to 15 degrees below zero, and back came our discouraged hunters without having fired a shot. Food was becoming alarmingly scarce. A fox which happened in our way was trapped and eagerly devoured.

On the evening of the 22nd, though the mercury indicated 22° below zero, the channel of the river above us was noticed to be less thickly blocked with ice than where we were encamped. It was resolved, if possible, to haul the boat a mile or two farther up stream, and there to launch and measure our strength with the floe.

All hands excepting Michel, who was still unable to walk, engaged in the work. The boat was launched, and by means of a long line we managed to tow it about half a mile up shore, but there the ice became so thick that we had to haul it out to prevent its being crushed. Our objective point was about a mile farther up, so an effort was made to haul the boat along the shore. It was all the ten of us could manage, but by about nightfall we had succeeded. The night being clear and light, we moved camp to the boat, that we might be prepared to cross in the morning if it were possible.

The next morning was bitterly cold and a fog was rising from the river. We towed the boat half a mile still farther up, until the Seal Islands were reached. Here we pushed out into the stream and commenced the struggle.

Every man was armed with an oar, a pole or an axe, and all of these were vigorously applied in forcing our way through the ice and the current. For a time we made fair progress, but before long were caught in the grip of the ice-pack and hurried down with the stream toward the sea.

We pushed and we pulled, we pounded and hacked, and at length got into a channel of open water. Again we were beset, but again got free, and so after much exertion we crossed the channel and landed upon the stationary ice. We had taken this for shore-ice, but were sorely disappointed to find it was only a jam in the middle of the channel.

What was now to be done? It was impossible to tow the boat around the upper end of the jam; and to allowit to drift down past the lower end would mean that we would be carried with the current out to sea and be irrevocably lost.

After carefully considering the situation, we concluded to portage across the island of ice and launch on the other side. Accordingly the boat was unloaded and piece by piece everything was carried safely across, but when we attempted to portage the boat it and we continually broke through the surface. We were therefore obliged to cut a channel right through the island, the full width of the boat. After much labor this was accomplished, the boat hauled through, reloaded, and again pushed out into the flowing pack, which carried us, in spite of all our endeavors, far down toward the mouth of the river.

At length we had succeeded in getting within thirty feet of the solid south-shore ice, but even then, when the shore seemed almost within reach, we were nipped in the floe and again carried helplessly downward, until it seemed as if, after all, we were going to be carried out to sea.

We used every effort to free the boat, but all of no avail. At last, however, civil war among the floes caused a split and brought deliverance. A few rapid strokes and our old craft bumped against the solid ice.

The bowman, François, quick as a flash, sprang out with the end of the tow-line, while the rushing ice again caught the boat and bore it downward. François held on to the tow-line with all his might, but the tug-of-war was going against him; he yielded, fell, and for a short distance was dragged over the broken hummocks of ice, but bracing his feet against one of these, heformed himself into a veritable ice-anchor, and with Herculean strength held us fast until others sprang out to his assistance.

All hands quickly disembarked, but as there was still between us and the shore a full mile of rough ice, liable to break adrift at any moment, no time was lost in exultation. The boat was unloaded, hauled up and the tramp commenced for the shore. After much exertion we reached land, and every man felt a thrill of exultation that the Nelson was at last to the north of us.

HUDSON’S BAY COMPANY’S STORE, YORK FACTORY.

We were all much chilled from exposure, so a fire was made in the edge of the woods. Spruce boughs were strewn about it to keep our feet from the snow, and the cheerful warmth was most gratefully enjoyed.

A little of the pounded dried-fish still remaining was fried on a pan with seal oil, the combination forming a dish that might be described as fish-flavored chips steeped in oil, but with appetites such as ours it could be eaten—though I will not say relished.

After this “refreshment” had been partaken of, and the stiffness thawed from our limbs, snowshoes were adjusted, and with a “Hurrah for York” the march was resumed.

One more camp was made, and on the following day, the 24th of November, and the nineteenth day since leaving Churchill, we reached York Factory.

RED DEER COWBOY.

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