True Tales of Arctic Heroism in the New World

When Petitot asked for cooked blubber his host promptly pulled out the melting piece from the smoking, dirty lamp, and was surprised that such a delicacy was refused. When later tasted the raw blubber was found to be insipid, though the fresh oil therefrom was not unlike olive oil in its flavor.

As a kind of dessert they drew on their small supply of congealed seal-oil, so rancid as to be offensive. To this food neither time nor circumstance reconciles the white man.

The meal over the natives took to the soothing evening pipe, and gradually began the talk of the day and of the morrow. Mindful of the precious store goods in his pack and of his promise to the factor, Powder Horn chanted the glory of Fort Anderson, and then sang to the young stranger Inuits the praises of the missionary, whom he proclaimed to be the Son of the Sun; despite his protestations, transforming the priest into a demi-god.

The long day's march had seen the scattering groves dwindle and fail – first the bankerian pine, followed in order by the balsam poplar and the aspen. Now as they broke their morning camp the canoe birch was a stunted, wretched shrub scarcely attaining the dignity of a tree, and even this was gone when they made their next camp near the Anderson delta, leaving here and there unsightly and rare specimens of the hardy larch and the arctic spruces.

Next day they parted company with the young natives, who carried with them the pot-stone lamp, much to the priest's annoyance, as he was nearly frozen when they entered the igloo on the river ice. Powder Horn under pressure showed his ingenuity in providing a substitute. Picking up a piece of drift-wood, he hollowed it out lamp-shaped, and covered its bottom and sides with pebbles and flat stones. As moss was lacking for the wicking, he plucked a pinch of hair from his deerskin sleeping-robe, twisted it into a mesh, and the lamp was ready. During the night a violent gale buried the igloo in a snow-drift. The river ice was under such storm-pressures and it oscillated so strongly and continuously to and fro that they all feared that the river would open and swallow them up. Throughout the whole night the roaring of the wind, the groaning of the ice, and the quivering of the igloo made sleep impossible.

As they passed the river's mouth the third day the landscape was one of frightful sterility. Snow became thin and scanty, the ice was rougher, and the bare spots of ground seemed to have no signs of vegetation, trees and shrubs failing utterly. Nature was worse than dead with its apparent desolation. Here both man and beast was doomed alike to a constant and eternal struggle for bare existence in this adverse environment.

The lack of material and the ingenuity of the Inuits in wresting a bare subsistence from this forlorn country was indicated by a most efficient fox-trap made entirely of ice.

Long after dark the wearied sledge dogs with loud howlings broke into a rapid run, and were welcomed with fierce yells from the rival teams of the Eskimo village, a dozen large snow houses on the shores of Liverpool Bay. So dim was the light and so strange the garments and the attitudes of the native women, fur-clad and crawling on all-fours from the huts, that the missionary could scarcely distinguish them from the dogs.

Introduced to the people of the village by his Inuit protector as the Son of the Sun, he was made welcome after the manner of the country. His efforts at conversions did not bear visible fruit, though the natives listened gravely to his sermons on kindness and goodness, on chastity and honesty, on wifely fidelity and motherly love.

Doubtless he was best remembered in after days, as he himself suggests, "As the man who ate when a little pocket-sun [chronometer] told him; who guided himself on the trail by a live turning-iron [compass]; who made fire by rubbing a bit of wood on his sleeve [matches]; and who by looking hard at something white [prayer-book] made it possible for the Inuit to catch black foxes – the most valuable of all their furs."

Father Petitot made his plans the following summer to renew his efforts to improve the method of life of these wretched and remote natives, and to instil in them moral lessons which his later acquired knowledge of the Eskimo dialect would facilitate. An epidemic, however, destroyed many of the Inuits as well as of the Indian tribes in the Mackenzie region, thus preventing a renewal of the missionary's crusade against immorality and misery.

Nevertheless the adventurous midwinter mission of Father Petitot, in facing fearlessly the danger of death, in enduring uncomplainingly its physical tortures, and in taking up a daily life, Inuit fashion, under such almost revolting conditions, displayed the heroism of the true missionary. While Petitot's self-sacrifice, in the way of physical comforts and of personal sufferings, is not the most remarkable in the annals of the church in arctic history, yet it may well serve as an example for the aspiring and altruistic souls who are willing to do and to dare for the welfare of their fellow-man.

SCHWATKA'S SUMMER SEARCH

"On Fame's eternal camping groundTheir silent tents are spread,And glory guards with solemn roundThe bivouac of the dead."– O'Hara.

Among the startling and too-often believed stories of the polar regions are many which have their origin as whalers' "yarns." Spun for the purpose of killing time and of amusing hearers, by repetition and circulation they attain the dignity of "reliable personal accounts." Among such credited "yarns" in the early seventies was one to the effect that the missing records of the proceedings and discoveries of the lost squadron of Sir John Franklin were to be found in a cairn which was located near and easily accessible from Repulse Bay. Told and retold with an air of truth, it became the foundation on which was based the Schwatka-Gilder search of King William Land. This expedition sailed under the favoring auspices of the American Geographical Society of New York on the whaler Eothen, from which landed at Repulse Bay the party of five – Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka, United States Army, W. H. Gilder, H. W. Klutschak, F. E. Melms, and Eskimo Ebierbing, known as Joe (see p. 196).

In establishing their winter camp near Chesterfield Inlet they adopted as closely as possible native methods of life as to food, clothing, and shelter. In the intervals of hunting trips they ran down the several "yarns" on which their search had been planned, and were dismayed to find that they were entirely unfounded.

Schwatka was not the man to turn back without results, and so he determined to visit the regions in which the Franklin party had perished, hoping that he might be able to throw new light on the disaster. If he had been deceived as to the Franklin records being cached at a particular point, he possibly might find them elsewhere, as records must have been somewhere deposited for safety. It was a daring venture, but there might be a possibility of more thoroughly examining King William Land when snow-free.

The more striking phases of Schwatka's unique and successful experience in the search are told here.

During the winter there was much visiting to and fro with the Eskimos camped near them. They soon found that there was a bright side to life among the Inuits, and that the natives indulged in games of skill much as we do. Gilder tells of the men playing the game of nu-glew-tar, which demands a quick eye and alert, accurate movements: "A small piece of bone is suspended from the roof by a line made of walrus hide, and a heavy weight dangles below it to keep it from swinging. The bone is pierced with four small holes, and the players stand around, armed with small sticks with which they jab at the bone, endeavoring to pierce one of the holes. Some one starts the game by offering a prize, which is won by him who pierces the bone and holds it fast with his stick. The winner in turn offers a prize for the others to try for." It is not a gambling game, but by prizes it encourages the acquirement of keen eyesight and accurate aim, so needful to success in hunting.

With the opening of April, 1879, Schwatka's party took the field, crossing the land in as straight a line as they could to Montreal Island, near the mouth of Back River. Twelve Eskimos – men, women, and children – were added to the party, and with their forty-two dogs they hauled about two and one-half tons, of which less than one-fourth consisted of provisions of a civilized character – bread, pork, beef, coffee, tea, etc. – being food for one month only. Travel overland was very difficult owing to the rocky region traversed, which stripped the runners of their ice-shoes. He says: "The ice is put upon the runners the first thing in the morning when coming out of the igloo, which was built every night. The sledge is turned upside down, and the water, after being held in the mouth a little while to warm it, is squirted over the runners and freezes almost immediately. Successive layers are applied until a clean, smooth surface is acquired, upon which the sledge slips over the snow with comparative ease."

Of the Ook-joo-liks they met with Gilder says: "Instead of reindeer gloves and shoes they wore articles made of musk-ox skin, which had a most extraordinary effect. The hair of the musk-ox is several inches long, and it looked as if the natives had an old-fashioned muff on each hand. They explained that it was almost impossible to get near enough to kill reindeer with arrows, their only weapons."

An old Ook-joo-lik said that he had seen a white man dead in a ship which sank about five miles west of Grant Point, Adelaide Peninsula. Before the ship sank the Inuits obtained spoons, knives, etc., from her, and the story seemed true from the number of relics of the Erebus and Terror in their possession.

The explorers visited Richardson Inlet, where they were told that a boat had been found by the natives with five skeletons under it. The most important information was gained from a Netchillik woman who said that on the southeast coast of King William Land "she with her husband, and two other men with their wives, had many years ago seen ten men dragging a sledge with a boat on it. Five whites put up a tent on shore and five remained with the boat. The Inuits and the whites stayed together five days, the former killing several seals and giving them to the white men." The whites attempted to cross to the main-land, and the Eskimos remained all summer on King William Land and never saw the whites again. She also said that "the following spring she saw a tent standing at the head of Terror Bay. There were dead bodies in the tent and outside – nothing but bones and clothing. Near by were knives, spoons, forks, books, etc."

While elated at his success in learning from the Ook-joo-liks these incidents, which added much to the reports of Rae and McClintock as to the fate of Crozier and his comrades, Schwatka was not content. With a courage bordering on rashness he decided to cross Simpson Strait to King William Land and thoroughly search for records while the ground was free from snow. This meant passing the summer on this desolate island, for he could not hope to recross the strait, save by chance, until the autumnal colds should form new ice.

He had just learned that the island was so barren of game in 1848 that one hundred and five men had there perished of starvation. Some of the natives told him that the same fate awaited the white men of to-day. Yet such was the dominating power of this fearless soldier that not only did his white comrades go forward zealously but several Eskimos followed, including his hunter, Too-loo-ah, of whom it was said: "There is a legend in his tribe that he was never known to be tired."

Among the hunting feats of the natives was the spring duck-hunting, when the birds are moulting and unable to fly. Fitted with his spear the Eskimo carries his kayak to the remote lake where the birds feed. Cautiously advancing until the flock is alarmed, he makes a furious dash toward the largest bunch. When within some twenty feet of the struggling birds he seizes his queer-looking spear, with its three barbs of unequal length, and with an expertness gained from long practice hurls it at a bird, which is nearly always killed, impaled by the sharp central barb. The wooden shaft of the spear floats the game until the hunter reaches it.

Scarcely had the party marched a single day on the ice-pack of Simpson Strait when some would have turned back, the crossing being doubtful. Gilder records: "We would sink to our waists and our legs would be dangling in slush without finding bottom. The sledge often sank so that the dogs, floundering in the slush or scrambling over the broken ice, could not pull. Then we gathered around to help them, getting an occasional footing by kneeling on a hummock or holding on with one hand while we pushed with the other. Yet through the skill and experience of our Inuit dog driver we made a march of ten miles." In this journey even the athlete, Too-loo-ah, was so exhausted that the party had to rest the following day.

Schwatka with Gilder and his other white companions then made a most exhaustive search of the island, the Eskimos aiding in the intervals of the hunt or while going to and fro. The search revealed four despoiled graves, three skeletons, Crozier's original camp and his daily bivouacs during his fatal southward march, the Erebus Bay boat, and the record deposited by McClintock in 1859. Especially interesting was the grave of Lieutenant John Irving, one of Franklin's officers. Evidently the body had been wrapped in his uniform and then encased in canvas as if for burial at sea. A personal medal of Irving's and other articles identified the remains. Unfortunately none of the Franklin records or traces thereof were anywhere found.

It is not to be thought that these marches and discoveries were made otherwise than with great suffering, with danger even of starvation. More than once they were entirely without food, and as a rule they lived from hand to mouth.

Gilder relates this semi-humorous experience: "While Klutschak was cooking the last of our meat he left the fire a few minutes. The dogs breaking from their fastenings poured down on the culinary department like an army of devouring fiends. Too-loo-ah, knowing the state of our larder, slipped out under the end of the tent, stark naked from his sleeping-bag, and by a shower of stones sent the dogs away howling."

Their greatest discomfort arose from the lack of shoes and stockings, their outer foot-gear being soon worn-out beyond repair, while hard travel had rubbed all the hair from their stockings. Under these conditions walking was often physical torture, which frequent moccasin patching only slightly relieved. Finally they had to send to the base camp at the south end of the island, where the two native women were, to obtain foot-gear for their return journey from Cape Felix, the northernmost point of King William Land.

While sledging along this point Too-loo-ah discovered a bear on the ice of Victoria Strait far to the north. Dumping his load he urged his dogs forward, plying the whip until the team sighted the as yet unconscious bear. With wolf-like ferocity and swiftness the excited dogs rushed madly forward, the empty sledge swinging from side to side on the rough ice-floes or splashing through the pools or tide cracks that lay in the road. When within a mile or so of the bear he saw his coming enemies, and with his lumbering, rocking gait rushes off at a speed that astonishes a novice who notes his awkward motions. Ook-joo-lik leaning forward cuts the traces with his sharp hunting-knife, freeing in a bunch the yelping dogs who run swiftly after the fleeing animal. Soon the dogs are at bruin's heels, snapping and biting him so that he is obliged to halt and defend himself. A battle royal now occurs, the defiant, growling bear, rushing and striking fiercely at his enemies. The old and experienced dogs attack him either in the rear or by side rushes when his attention is given to another quarter, and when he turns they elude the clumsy brute with great dexterity. Now and then an untrained youngster attacks directly, only to receive a blow from the powerful paws that either kills or maims him.

Soon Too-loo-ah came up almost breathless from his haste, and waited for a chance to get a shot without killing a dog. Gilder tells us of the unusual experience of the native at this time: "The bear disregarding the dogs made a rush for the active young hunter that almost brought his heart into his mouth. Recovering his composure in good season, he sent three bullets from his Winchester rifle, backed by a charge of seventy-five grains of powder behind each, right into the animal's skull, and the huge beast lay dead almost at his feet."

At times their hunger, when meat was lacking, was appeased by a small black berry called by the natives parawong, which was not only pleasing from its welcome spicy and pungent tartness, but was really life-supporting for a while at least.

While making thorough search of every ravine or hill-top for records or for relics, "The walking developed new tortures every day. We were either wading through the hill-side torrents or lakes, which, frozen on the bottom, made the footing exceedingly treacherous, or else with seal-skin boots, soft by constant wetting, painfully plodding over sharp stones set firmly in the ground with the edges pointed up. Sometimes as a new method of injury, stepping and slipping on flat stones, the unwary foot slid into a crevice that seemingly wrenched it from the body."

Under stress of hunger and in due time they came to eat the same food as their native hunters. We are told that "In the season the reindeer are exceedingly fat, the tallow (called by the Inuits tudnoo) lying in great flakes from half an inch to two and a half inches thick along the back and over the rump. This tallow has a most delicious flavor and is eaten with the meat, either cooked or raw. The intestines are also encased in a lace-work of tallow which constitutes a palatable dish. Indeed, there is no part of any animal used for food but what is eaten by the Eskimos and which we also have partaken of with great relish. A dish made of the contents of the paunch, mixed with seal-oil, looks like ice-cream and is the Eskimos' substitute for that confection." It has none of the flavor, however, of ice-cream, but, as Lieutenant Schwatka says, may be more likened to locust, sawdust and wild-honey.

After the breaking up of the winter floes in the strait the hunters gave much time to the pursuit of the reindeer and killed many. Too-loo-ah gave a new instance of his courage and of his resourcefulness as a hunter. Going to the beach to find some drift-wood for fuel he left his gun in camp. Near the coast he came upon a she bear with her half grown cub. Knowing that the game would escape if he went back for his rifle, "he drove the old bear into the sea with stones and killed the cub with a handless snow-knife." His great pleasure was in the slaughter of reindeer, of which great herds appeared during the late summer, while Schwatka was awaiting the coming of cold and the formation of ice on Simpson Strait for the crossing of his heavy sledges. Too-loo-ah indulged as a pastime in seal-hunting in these days of prosperity. When he got a seal one of his first operations was "to make a slit in the stomach of the still breathing animal, and cutting off some of the warm liver with a slice or two of blubber, the hunter regaled himself with a hearty luncheon." Now and then the keen scent of a dog or his own hunter's instinct discovered a seal igloo on the floe. This is a house built for their young near the air-holes where the mothers come for breathing spells. Gilder says: "Here the baby seals are born and live until old enough to venture into the water. When a hunter finds an occupied igloo he immediately breaks in the roof in search of the little one, which remains very quiet even when the hunter pokes his head through the broken roof. The young seal is easily killed with the spear, and the hunter waits for the mother who is never absent a long time from her baby. The young seal is usually cut open as soon as killed and its little stomach examined for milk, which is esteemed a great luxury by the Eskimos."

Gilder gives an account of their camp life while waiting on events. "We ate quantities of reindeer tallow with our meat, probably about half of our daily food. Breakfast is eaten raw and frozen, but we generally have a warm meal in the evening. Fuel is hard to obtain and now consists of a vine-like moss called ik-shoot-ik. Reindeer tallow is used for a light. A small, flat stone serves for a candlestick, on which a lump of tallow is placed close to a piece of fibrous moss called mun-ne, which is used for a wick. The melting tallow runs down upon the stone and is immediately absorbed by the moss. This makes a cheerful and pleasant light, but is most exasperating to a hungry man as it smells exactly like frying meat. Eating such quantities of tallow is a great benefit in this climate, and we can easily see the effects of it in the comfort with which we meet the cold."

It was most interesting to see the southward migration of the reindeer, which began as soon as the ice on Simpson Strait would bear them. They went in herds, and by the middle of October the country was practically bare of them.

Of their own trip southward Gilder writes: "The most unpleasant feature of winter travelling is the waiting for an igloo to be built, which is done at the end of every day's march. To those at work even this time can be made to pass pleasantly, and there is plenty that even the white men can do at such time. Another task that the white men can interest themselves in is the unloading of the sled and beating the ice and snow out of the fur bedclothing. The Eskimos do not use sleeping-bags for themselves, but instead have a blanket which they spread over them, while under them are several skins, not only to keep the body away from the snow, but also to prevent the body from thawing the snow-couch and thus making a hole that would soon wet the skins. On the march the bed-skins are usually spread over the top of the loaded sledge, the fur side up, because it is easy enough to beat the snow from the fur, while it might thaw and make the skin side wet. Continued pounding will remove every vestige of ice without disturbing the fur, if the weather is sufficiently cold."

Of the dogs he says: "Twice the dogs had an interval of eight days between meals and were in condition for hard work. That they could live and do any work at all seemed marvellous. I am constrained to believe that the Eskimo dog will do more work, and with less food, than any other draught animal existing."

Of the travel he adds: "The weather is intensely cold, ninety-seven degrees below freezing, with scarcely any wind. It did not seem so cold as when the wind was blowing in our face at fifty degrees below freezing. We were so well fortified against the cold by the quantities of fat we had eaten that we did not mind it."

Conditions of travel were very bad in December, when they had to lie over for hunting, game being so scarce. But January, 1880, was their month of trial, the temperature sinking to one hundred and four degrees below the freezing-point on one occasion, while they were harassed by a violent blizzard of thirteen days' duration. Wolves later attacked their team, killing four dogs in their very camp. Indeed, Too-loo-ah had a most narrow escape when surrounded by a pack of twenty wolves. "He jumped upon a big rock, which was soon surrounded, and there fought the savage beasts off with the butt of his gun until he got a sure shot, when he killed one. While the others fought over and devoured the carcass of their mate he made the best of his opportunity to get back into camp."

Through famine, cold, and wolf raids the teams began to fail. "It was almost our daily experience now to lose one or more dogs [in fact, they lost twenty-seven on this trip]. A seal-skin full of blubber would have saved many of our dogs; but we had none to spare for them, as we were reduced to the point when we had to save it exclusively for lighting the igloos at night. We could not use it to warm our igloos or to cook with. Our meat had to be eaten cold – that is, frozen so solid that it had to be sawed and then broken into convenient-sized lumps, which when first put into the mouth were like stones. Sometimes, however, the snow was beaten off the moss on the hill-sides and enough was gathered to cook a meal."