• 
 • 
 
 . 
 
 mm.
 

 
 STATE NORMAL SCHOOL
 
 33p BJUfrcU (T. (Srcnfcll 
 
 TALES OF THE LABRADOR. With Frontispiece. 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF LIFE. 
 
 ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN. Illustrated. 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 Boston and New York
 
 Tales of the Labrador
 
 
 v 
 
 
 
 +- 
 
 
 HE s<><>\ RECOVERED HIMSELF AND STOOD UPON HIS HIM) LEGS
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 By 
 Wilfred Thornason Grenfell 
 
 M.D. (OXON.), C.M.G. 
 
 Boston and New York 
 
 Houghton Mifflin Company 
 
 (Cbe Ritcr^iDc prcg^ Cambri&ge 
 1916 
 
 294
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY WILFRED THOMASON GRENFELL 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Published November iqib
 
 U) 
 
 
 
 Contents 
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 1 
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 33 
 
 The Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass . . 54 
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 73 
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 90 
 
 The Northern Chief 109 
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 129 
 
 White Fox 145 
 
 Three Eyes 103 
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 174 
 
 kommak the innuk 194
 
 *V^0- 
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 THAT CHRISTMAS IN PEACE HAVEN 
 
 Our country has long been called the land of 
 cods, fogs, and dogs. We are glad of the first, 
 we are sorry about the second, and we are 
 divided about the third. The first give us our 
 food and clothing; the second much of our re- 
 sourcefulness and nerve; the third our winter 
 fun and firewood, but also, alas, a great amount 
 of trouble. They kill any domestic animals we 
 may try to keep ; they destroy any gardens we 
 laboriously tend — if once they succeed in get- 
 ting in over the palisades: thus they are a 
 real source of menace to our needed vegetable- 
 supply; and they disturb our sleep and the 
 peace of mind that plays so much larger a part 
 in human life than most of us recognize. But 
 Providence, which always gives compensation 
 for loss, has blessed us with the most peaceful 
 country in the world. There are no crowded 
 cities; no smoky, bustling factories; no noisy, 
 
 1
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 screaming railways; no dusty roads and dashing 
 traffic; no daily mail; no imperious telephones 
 We have no drink traffic. There is no excessive 
 heat in summer, and the country provides us 
 with the skins for such clothing as enables us to 
 take full advantage of the bracing winter cold. 
 Here the snow is always white. The hillsides 
 provide us with a firing which leaves no grime 
 behind it. The very ashes from our spruce logs, 
 boiled with the fat of the seals which are so 
 plentiful in the North Atlantic, afford the soap- 
 supply of most families. The blaze of our log 
 fires, contrasting with the crisp cold outside, 
 would make a miser generous. The sunshine, 
 reflected from the snow in winter and from 
 the sea 1 in summer, is our most efficient medi- 
 cal officer, and gives our faces a color that 
 suggests perennial youth. 
 
 The most restful time of all is naturally the 
 winter. Then we are shut off from the anxieties 
 of disturbing tidings which often have righted 
 themselves before we hear of them at all. As 
 shops are inaccessible, we are relieved of the 
 constant suggestion that we need something, 
 and we escape much of the tyranny of things. 
 Nor are we tempted to keep late hours in 
 
 2
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 crowded auditoriums, and so sap our vitality 
 by chronic asphyxiation. Our food is plain, 
 but when well cooked is amply sufficient to 
 maintain the highest bodily efficiency, while 
 there is no temptation to surfeit one's system 
 with semi-poisonous food-products which we 
 have learned to crave. 
 
 The chief menace to our cerebral equilibrium 
 arises from mechanical and physical causes, 
 and not from imaginary mental worries that 
 induce the popular malady of ''nervous pros- 
 perity." We err rather on the side of being too 
 well satisfied with what we have than on that 
 of being overanxious about to-morrow. 
 
 If a peaceful mind is the asset in life I take 
 it to be, then we can also be thankful that we 
 are still so far behind the times that we have 
 not yet embarked on the controversy between 
 religion and science, or begun to dabble in 
 cheap metaphysics and shallow "higher criti- 
 cism." We are not entirely unanimous as to 
 which method of approaching the Almighty is 
 infallible for all the world, but we are pretty 
 well decided on the one which helps our own 
 life most. The sermons in seas and ice-floes, in 
 storms and stones, conduce to as restful a con- 
 
 3
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 dition of soul as do the edicts of ecumenical 
 councils. Our simple explanation of the phe- 
 nomena of nature gives us a peace which, so 
 far as I can learn, is still past understanding 
 in the academies of learning. I wish the wor- 
 shiper of the No God the very best he can get 
 out of his "inexorable laws," but we folk in the 
 Arctic value our faith in a reasonable universe, 
 and a God who cares for us, quite as much as 
 we do Santa Claus and his good cheer. 
 
 As we venture off on running ice-floes in 
 pursuit of seals, as we fare far from the home 
 port in small boats, wresting our livelihood 
 from a reluctant environment, we recognize that 
 it is only in absolute faith we go forth each time. 
 How many a gallant lad has departed on just 
 the same quest and never returned at all ! 
 
 At this very moment my eyes rest on my 
 trusty snowshoes hanging from a stag's horns 
 by the fireside, and visions of the rest-giving 
 miles — I say it advisedly — of tramping over 
 winter snows rise before me, and they suggest 
 such a contrast to my present prosaic occupa- 
 tion that I just have to get up and walk round 
 the table. 
 
 The generous and oft-expressed sympathy 
 
 4
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 of many friends that I, a physician from the 
 outside world, should "sacrifice life" so far 
 from all that is desirable, has always been evi- 
 dence to me of the fallibility of pure reason. It 
 by no means follows that what I like best is 
 best, or that that from which I shrink at first is 
 not really most desirable. But such mundane 
 things as whiskey, a fine cigar, a plum pudding, 
 afford potent pleas for the justice of this really 
 common-sense judgment on my part. A twinge 
 of conscience always pricks me for fear I 
 have unconsciously misled these well-meaning, 
 kindly folk. In these days of universal kodaks 
 the only safe path, anyhow, is to go about 
 witli the perpetual smile that won't come off. 
 But I must admit also that with the prick 
 comes some little regret that more of our 
 friends do not take a term in this subarctic 
 university. Yes, indeed, there are things to 
 learn here. For though its secrets are some- 
 times hidden from the wise and prudent, we 
 have graduated some even from that class — 
 and our only failures have been the overwise 
 freshmen. 
 
 Once you will admit to me that the prizes 
 of Christmas may be other than the dollar or 
 
 5
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 the toys we give, or the proportion of currants 
 in the pudding we eat, why, then, I'll venture 
 to spin you a yarn of a Christmas "down 
 North." It may be worth the telling, because 
 it may tempt some of you good folk to come 
 and share our supposititious misery. 
 
 The trouble with this particular Christinas 
 was that it came after such a "total blank" in 
 our fisheries that, far from expecting Santa 
 Claus, it was absolutely certain that some 
 of our folk would be looking for "a bit o' 
 loaf." 
 
 The salmon-fishermen in the bay had not 
 more than a hundred tierce between them, and 
 British Columbian salmon had cut the price as 
 well. Our beautiful trout was temporarily a 
 drug in the market, and had hardly paid the 
 cost of salt and cooperage. Not a deer had 
 come to the landwash to help out the larder, 
 and, owing to the necessity of devoting every 
 moment to the fishery, the usual time for an 
 early fall hunt had been allowed to slip by. 
 The only plentiful creatures in the country 
 seemed to be the mice and the lemmings. But 
 that fact augured ill for our last resource, 
 the fur-trapping, for foxes won't come out 
 
 6
 
 ' That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 to the landwash if they can get food in the 
 country, and marten and mink won't take 
 bait when there is no need for them to run 
 risks. 
 
 Yet when I ran into Peace Haven in the late 
 fall to leave a box of supplies for the doctor 
 on his winter journeys, you would never have 
 thought there was anything hut the jolliest of 
 Christmases ahead for the good people round 
 tlit- little harbor. 
 
 The patriarch of the place, Uncle Joe, ex- 
 pressed the general good sense by saying, 
 "Well, youse see, Doctor, troubles hurts just 
 that much less if you don't go to meet them 
 till thev comes after voii." 
 
 It so happened that Jake Kclsom's little boy 
 was sick and that had stirred Jake's mind, 
 because it was acutely visible. He had come 
 some two miles across the hills from a neigh- 
 boring harbor for help. 'I see'd t' smoke, 
 Doctor, as you rounded Fishing Point Head," 
 he said, "and t' ole missis thought maybe 
 you'd come over and see our Jakie." 
 
 It was late before we reached his house, and 
 only just not too late for Jakie. 
 
 "It will mean staying here for the night, and 
 
 7
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 perhaps taking Jakie away with us to-morrow," 
 I said to the anxious man. " Can you give me a 
 shake-down for the night?" 
 
 'Deed us can, Doctor. T' ole missis '11 fix 
 up t' room for you." 
 
 There was only dry bread for supper, and tea 
 with a drop of molasses, and I had omitted to 
 put anything hut medical supplies into my 
 "nonny bag." 
 
 'It's only poor fare us can offer you," Jake 
 apologized. "But it's hard times t' year." 
 
 "As Long as you have enough flour not to 
 starve, ami can gel some fat, you'll he all right, 
 Jake, till the ducks come south. Perhaps you 
 can kill a deer, too." 
 
 "That's just the trouble," replied my host. 
 "We're on our last barrel now, and God knows 
 where the next is to come from. Mr. Roper 
 have shut up t' store at Brandy Harbor for t' 
 winter. lie says he can't afford to give credit, 
 and he 'lows us won't be getting anything to 
 buy un with." 
 
 Noticing just then that his mouthpiece was 
 an empty pipe, I handed him my tobacco- 
 pouch. The smile which spread over his face 
 repaid me for the fill, and for the half-pound 
 
 8
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 more which I later sent over from the ship's 
 stock. A couple of curly-headed youngsters of 
 four and five were on the floor playing with 
 two old cotton spools in absolute contentment. 
 The shortage of soap even had not in the least 
 atlected their equanimity, much less the eccen- 
 tricity of their garments. 
 
 As we sat in silence, puffing at our pipes, my 
 thoughts went awing, and from the heights I 
 seemed to get a view of all men as children, 
 forgetting the higher joys of manhood in play- 
 ing with toys, and it made me want to help my 
 follow in distress. 
 
 I was suddenly brought hack from the clouds 
 by a knock at the door. On opening it, there 
 stood a man with a large tin baking-pan in his 
 hand. He seemed somewhat confused at see- 
 ing a stranger in the house, and after toying 
 with the pan for a minute was evidently about 
 to beat a retreat. 
 
 "Coine in, Tom," sang out my host. "'T is 
 only t' doctor. Come right in." 
 
 Tom closed the door and came forward 
 somewhat sheepishly to shake hands. Mean- 
 while, without a word's having passed between 
 them, Jake rose and, seizing the baking-pan, 
 
 9
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 removed it to the proximity of his last barrel of 
 flour, from which he promptly proceeded to fill 
 it "chockablock." As he returned and gave it 
 to its owner, I noticed the same kind of look 
 light up Tom's face as I had previously seen on 
 my host's. 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Jake tried to excuse 
 his sof t-heartedness by saying first that it was 
 only a loan. But he spoiled that statement by 
 adding, "One baking more or less won't make 
 much difference, will it?" 
 
 "Perhaps it will make more than you think," 
 I replied; "'there is that which withholdeth 
 and yet maketh poor.'" 
 
 We turned in soon after, and I found no 
 difficulty in diagnosing that my needy friend 
 slept far more soundly than I. 
 
 A heavy nor'easter with fog outside kept us 
 in Peace Haven another day. I was soon satis- 
 fied that, however good my intention, it was far 
 beyond my capacity adequately to relieve the 
 situation. What we could do was cheerfully 
 done, but when we came to get up our anchor 
 for sailing, I felt badly over even the few guns 
 the good-hearted folk fired to give us a "send- 
 off," for I knew how scarce a load of powder 
 
 10
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 was, and that each discharge might mean a 
 duck less for the cooking-pot. 
 
 There have been similar cases in my experi- 
 ence when somehow the windows of heaven 
 seemed to open to supply the people's needs. 
 But this was not one of those occasions. On the 
 contrary, all the friends alike, including even 
 Uncle Joe, only just "scrabbled along." By 
 the first of December, the little community 
 was almost at its wit's end to know what to do 
 for food. They had all moved up the bay now 
 to their winter cottages to get the protection of 
 the trees from the winds which make life on 
 the islands and even on the outer land almost 
 unbearable. Some of the families had been 
 lucky enough to strike a head of caribou and 
 had secured a supply of venison. But among 
 these fortunate ones were neither of my 
 straitened friends. These two men were furring 
 together — that is, they shared the same fur 
 path and halved all they caught, an arrange- 
 ment due to the small number of traps either 
 of them could afford to purchase. 
 
 It had come Tom Marvin's turn to visit the 
 "path." The snow was now lying deep on the 
 ground, and the nose and ears of even a well- 
 
 11
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 fed man needed careful tending in that atmos- 
 phere. Tom was on half rations, and "dry 
 flour ain't much to start a day's work on." 
 But, clad in the best he could find to keep out 
 the weather, he started on his long tramp. 
 Mile after mile went by; trap after trap was 
 examined. But always the same tale repeated 
 itself. The trap was frozen over, or drifted 
 over, but never a sign of a living animal nigh 
 any of them. On and on he plodded till he had 
 reached the very farthest trap tailed. Lo and 
 behold, it was gone, and not a sign to be seen of 
 it. There was a layer of young snow on the 
 ground hiding even the most recent tracks, and 
 the light wind that was blowing had drifted 
 them all over. Poor Tom was weak from want 
 of good food and worn out from the journey as 
 well. This last disappointment seemed to take 
 the last bit of grit out of him. This particular 
 trap had been tailed, as he knew, on the top of 
 an old stump which they had fixed in a very 
 narrow part of the pathway. The stump had 
 been selected to prevent the trap from being 
 snowed deep under. If only he could find that 
 stump, he might be able to get some clue as 
 to the whereabouts of his trap. Pulling himself 
 
 12
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 together, he staggered on in search of it. "You 
 see, Doctor," he said afterwards, "I wa'n't 
 quite myself, perhaps, just then, or I would n't 
 have missed the spot." 
 
 As it was, he came back twice on his tracks 
 before, just under the surface of the snow, his 
 foot struck the stump. Lying down and blow- 
 ing away the dry, powdery snow, he was able 
 to make out three things: first, the trap had 
 gone, chain and all, the staple having been 
 drawn out of the old stump; secondly, it was 
 a fox that had taken it away; and thirdly, it 
 had gone within the last twenty-four hours. 
 But where had it gone, and could he find it? On 
 every side could be seen snow, snow, nothing 
 but snow, — except that here and there a few 
 green tops of some scant spruce trees which we 
 call "tuckamore" peeped out. The excitement 
 of the hope bred of the knowledge of his find 
 had almost made a new man of him. He tried 
 every art he knew to guide him as to the way 
 to go. But after starting in all four directions 
 and circling round and round with the post as 
 a center, weary and disheartened, he felt he 
 must give it up. 
 
 Already night was coming on. What would 
 
 13
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 be the use of even a silver to him if he perished 
 in getting it. He was cold and he was hungry. 
 He had already drawn heavily on his reserve 
 of strength. 
 
 Yes, he would give it up. Just as well to die 
 one way as another. "What was the use of 
 struggling against such odds any longer? He 
 had almost turned to strike out for home, when 
 the vision of his two curly-headed lads crying 
 with hunger that he was powerless to appease, 
 and the sad face of his young wife rose so 
 vividly before him that he turned once again, 
 "(lod help me! it's better to perish alone than 
 to see 'em suffer." And once again he set out 
 blindly on the quest. 
 
 Heading for the nearest clumps of tucka- 
 more, he carefully examined the ground all 
 about, but found no signs. He set off once more, 
 closely scrutinizing drogue after drogue, as we 
 c all these small clumps of trees. On and on he 
 wandered till suddenly a white mark like a 
 fresh trail-blaze, low down on a young fir, 
 caught his watchful eye. A closer examination 
 showed that the bark had been notched by 
 some sharp instrument — and in a moment 
 more he was certain that some animal carrying 
 
 14
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 a trap had been seeking shelter in the thicket. 
 But there was none there now, and which way- 
 was he to go? What was he to do next? The 
 land to the north of him was steep, rising 
 eventually at the top to a jagged wilderness of 
 high pinnacled rocks. To the southward it fell 
 away in a long even slope to a large lake. The 
 chances were all in favor of the fox having 
 sought the shelter of the rocks. But there was 
 no visible track. It might be exactly the wrong 
 direction. The torturing dilemma nearly drove 
 him crazy. Would n't it be as well to take 
 the easier path? But he decided to play the 
 game to the finish. Without exactly knowing 
 why, or even how he got along, he began to 
 climb the shoulder of the hill. lie had not gone 
 more than half a mile, when, as he topped the 
 level of a low ridge, he thought he saw, away 
 above him on the snow, a tiny black speck 
 moving. A second more and he was sure of it. 
 Now began a race for life. His will was work- 
 ing at its best. He was really crazy now, but 
 it was with tumultuous hope and maddening 
 excitement. The memory of fatigue, the fear 
 of perishing alone, everything in heaven and 
 earth had vanished from his consciousness. 
 
 15
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 There on the hill above him and almost within 
 his very grasp was the price of food for his 
 loved ones. But with every second the gap 
 was widening. Once the fox should gain the 
 craggy summit there would be no hope of 
 getting him. Tom was a great runner, and at 
 any other time the issue would not have been 
 in doubt for five minutes. But his will had 
 flogged the willing muscles into action to the 
 very limit of their power; their reserve was 
 exhausted. Even as he started on the chase, 
 his snowshoe caught in an unnoticed snag and 
 he stumbled and fell. When he rose there was 
 a dizziness in his head which prevented his see- 
 ing the speck. However, an agony of fear like the 
 prick of a big spur sent him stumbling along 
 again. Another minute, and he sighted the speck 
 moving away far above him on the hillside. 
 
 Fortunately for Tom, it was a handicap 
 race all round. The wretched fox, flying for his 
 life, had to drag the heavy trap on his leg. He 
 was stumbling and falling scarcely less fre- 
 quently than his competitor in the race. Al- 
 ready the goal was in view and it seemed as 
 though the fox, as well as the man, recognized 
 the winning-post, and each was straining every 
 
 16
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 nerve to get an advantage. Now the man would 
 gain, till a slip of his snowshoe in the rapidly in- 
 creasing incline, or a further stumble from care- 
 lessness and exhaustion, again made him lose 
 ground. Now the trailing trap, catching in a 
 snag, would trip up the fox for a second with 
 a round turn, and he would lose time snarling 
 and biting at it. A couple of hundred yards 
 ahead loomed the tangled labyrinth of huge 
 rocks, torn by the iron foot of our winters from 
 the massive peak that formed the summit of 
 the hill above, — a huge moraine with endless 
 rocky fortresses, a very plethora of cities of 
 refuge, from any one of which the fugitive was 
 well aware he could bark defiance at his enemy. 
 On the whole, the man was gaining, but not fast 
 enough to give him the victory, and without 
 his realizing it, the fact was telling against him. 
 At this moment a new element entered the 
 arena. A sudden clear glimpse of the fox be- 
 trayed the dark, glossy coat of that doyen of 
 our northern furs, a black silver. This is the 
 prize of the North. With its capture the trap- 
 per not only wins his knightly spurs, but also 
 money enough to keep him without fear of 
 want for many a day to come. 
 
 17
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 Here was a man, himself half-fed and half- 
 clad, his loved ones perishing by inches for the 
 want of mere necessities at home, his future so 
 black that he greatly preferred death to facing 
 it, and here, almost in his hands, but yet slip- 
 ping from his grasp, was food, clothing, rest 
 from anxiety, and all he needed to make life 
 contented. 
 
 A madman is said to be capable of sudden 
 superhuman feats of strength, the ill Control of 
 his nerve impulses making it possible for him to 
 let every reserve go at the same moment. As 
 Tom told me the story afterward, there was 
 only one explanation of what happened. He 
 must have gone stark mad. All he remembers 
 was that something, he does n't know what, 
 shot him forward up that last incline like an 
 arrow from a bow. He recalls that somehow 
 his snowshoes did not hold as the angle of the 
 hill became too steep. But in spite of that on 
 and on he went. He remembers the fox as it 
 got into the mouth of a great cleft, turning and 
 yelping at him, and that with one big jump he 
 flung himself bodily upon it. And then oblivion. 
 
 When he came to himself it was dark. At 
 first he forgot where he was. He was miserably 
 
 18
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 cold, his head was dizzy and aching, he was in 
 the open, lying on the snow. Surely he had 
 gone to sleep by mistake. There was some- 
 thing wet on his head. He put his hand to it, 
 and examined it by the reflection of the moon- 
 light — blood. Something must have hit him. 
 Probably a rock had rolled down on him. 
 Then suddenly his hand touched something 
 cold which stuck fast to his wet finger, burning 
 it like a red-hot iron. He tore it off and with it 
 a piece of skin from his hand. But he felt no 
 pain. A chain! What could a chain be doing 
 there? A chain! Then suddenly it all flashed 
 back into his mind: the misery at home, the 
 tramp, the lost trap, the struggle. But the fox 
 — where was the fox? He tried to rise, but could 
 not. So he crawled up on to his feet against the 
 face of the big rock, and stood for a moment 
 swaying in the moonlight. Then, dropping on 
 his knees in the snow, in an agony of unspoken 
 supplication, he groped in under the rock to 
 find if possibly the fox might still be there. 
 Nothing but snow and rock met his touch. 
 He listened, but no sound could be heard. 
 It must have slipped the trap while he was 
 unconscious, or perhaps gnawed itself free. 
 
 19
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 Dizziness was overcoming Tom, and the night 
 was getting darker. 
 
 He was too weak to hope to get home, and 
 the savage comfort came to his mind, "Well, 
 it won't make any difference to me that I lost 
 him"; and once more he sank down into his 
 old place on the snow. Ugh! What was that? 
 The chain again. lie tore at it in mad anger 
 to try and hurl it from him. But no, it would 
 not move. He grabbed it in both hands and in 
 senseless rage flung his weight into the strain. 
 It gave slowly. It was fast to something: the 
 trap, of course. Why had n't he thought of 
 that? At least, it should deceive no one else. 
 He would hurl it into this rocky fastness where 
 no one could ever find it — to lure another man 
 to his undoing. But even as it came, a great 
 heap of snow came with it, and, flinging his 
 arms around it, Tom once more rose from his 
 knees as he prepared to hurl it from him. But 
 what was that? Surely God Almighty would- 
 n't mock him now. The snow was soft in his 
 arms, yet it certainly was hard in lumps. 
 Something was projecting: a frozen stick. No, 
 it was n't that; it was hairy. Once more he 
 reeled and fell on the snow, as he realized 
 
 20
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 that he held in his arms the dead body of the 
 black fox. 
 
 Exactly what followed is very hazy in his 
 memory. Something had made him stronger. 
 He supposes it was the unconquerable determi- 
 nation to tell the good news. At first he pic- 
 tured himself going straight home, and open- 
 ing the door, with the fox in his arms. His 
 strength seemed like that of ten as he thought 
 of the look on his wife's face, and of the 
 children when they found what it meant to 
 them. No more hunger, no more of the awful 
 anxiety which was worse than hunger. He 
 thought of Jake's joy and what he would say 
 first. It was Jake who had fed him when he 
 was hungry. He loved Jake with a man's 
 whole love. Oh! he could get back all right. 
 He must get back if he fell dead at his own 
 door. 
 
 Cuddling the fox like a baby, he was able to 
 get on his feet and start down the hill. The 
 next thing he remembers was picking himself 
 up out of some tuckamores into which he had 
 wandered. That reminded him. The tilt, the 
 mailman's tilt in the green rudge could be only 
 a short distance away. Of course he could n't 
 
 21
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 get back as he was. He must get shelter till 
 morning. It was trees he needed; trees to 
 shelter him. The tilt! Why hadn't he 
 thought of it! And, once more climbing to his 
 feet, he stumbled on into the night, clinging to 
 his precious burden like a drowning man. 
 
 Elsie, his wife, had been anxious when he set 
 out. She knew he was n't his real self. Only 
 because it was as bad to stay as to go»had she 
 consented. She had persuaded him not to 
 carry his gun. It was too heavy for him on 
 such a long round. She needed it to fire for 
 him if he was late. Thev all said there was no 
 use in it, as there was n't a rabbit around, and 
 besides it might frighten away foxes from the 
 path. All the coast knew that Mark Gulliver 
 had shot himself a year or two before, when 
 his family were starving. Now she was glad 
 she had kept- it. She'd go over and see Jake. 
 Jake would certainly know where to look for 
 him even if night had overtaken him. And 
 Jake — why, he 'd go anywhere at any time 
 for anybody, much more for Tom. 
 
 Bertie and Johnnie were given a rather 
 larger piece of bread — the merest smear of 
 
 22
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 molasses disguised it. There had been no 
 kerosene for a light for weeks, and sleep kept 
 them from thinking of hunger. Only half- 
 satisfied, the children had cried themselves to 
 sleep in their deep wooden bunks, before she 
 locked their door and slipped over to Jake's 
 house. 
 
 "Said he'd be back early, did he?" said 
 Jake in his kindly way as poor Elsie explained 
 her fears to him. "Well, sure it's early yet 
 if it is a bit dark. But I 'lows he 's changed his 
 mind and is going to sleep in a tilt to-night." 
 
 "But he promised he would n't," urged the 
 woman. "He promised, hit or miss, he 
 would n't leave me alone to-night. I can't 
 bear it, Jake. I tell you I can't bear it. If he 
 does n't get back by ten o'clock, I 'm going to 
 ask Jessie to let me bring the boys over. I 
 must go after him. I can't stay here, and he 
 perishing." 
 
 "He won't perish, lass," Jake answered; 
 "there's a thousand things as 'ud make him 
 stay on the path." 
 
 "I tell you, Jake, he's in trouble. I know it 
 as sure as I 'm standing here. If he is n't back 
 by ten, may I bring Bertie and Johnnie over?" 
 
 23
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 "Yes, and welcome," he answered. "But if 
 it comes to going, why, you 'd better let me 
 
 go." 
 
 "No, no," she replied. "I know the way 
 the path runs, and if any one can find him, 
 why, I can, if so be he 's lost." 
 
 The cheap wooden clock still pointed far 
 from ten when once more Elsie trudged over 
 to Jake's with her bundle, one lad trotting 
 beside her. Though Jake was himself all ready, 
 there was no dissuading Elsie from going also. 
 
 "Jake," she said, "since I left you, I'm 
 sure something's wrong with Tom. I didn't 
 see him, but I heard him. lie's out on the 
 snow, and he wants me. I 've got some bread 
 here and a little bit of raw tea. There's noth- 
 ing else in the house now." And unbidden 
 tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the 
 little she could give the husband of her love if 
 she did find him. 
 
 "Don't fret, lass," said Jake. "I've put in 
 a small bottle of molasses. 'T is a pity there 
 be no fat. But it 's no good crying over it." 
 And, seeing she was determined to go, he said 
 no more, but started out with her. 
 
 It was getting light before they had visited 
 
 24
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 their own ten-mile tilt, only to find it empty. 
 Fortunately there was no wind, so that when 
 this strange couple reached the spot where 
 the last trap had been tailed, they had a com- 
 plete riddle written in the snow to solve. 
 
 Jake's keen wits, however, soon read it 
 rightly. 
 
 "V trap's got lost," he said, "and Tom's 
 bin a long time lookin' for un. Come on. We'll 
 soon find him." 
 
 Another mile following his tracks and they 
 found another and fresher trail crossing it. 
 
 "It's all right, Elsie, lass. That's Tom 
 coming back again. Us need n't follow 
 round. Us '11 follow the new track." 
 / The new trail was far from being straight, 
 and at the end of almost half a mile showed 
 evidence of a struggle and a fall. 
 
 "Just tripped on his shoes," said Jake; and 
 passed on without stopping. 
 
 "Why did he wander about so?' : asked 
 Elsie after another period of silence. "Why, 
 he walked right into the tuckamore here!" 
 
 "Oh! It was dark, I 'low," answered Jake 
 cheerily. "It's terrible hard to go straight in 
 the dark. You just shut your eyes and try. 
 
 25
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 The only trouble is, I can't quite make out 
 what's he aiming for. Reckon I'll climb t' 
 knoll while you rests yourself a bit." And 
 without more ado, he started off up the rocky 
 piece of hill. On returning, he said briefly, 
 "T' general line is towards t' green rudge. I 
 thought maybe he'd gone for the tilt there. 
 And anyhow, it's time us cooked a kettle if us 
 wants to keep going." 
 
 Though hunger and weariness and self were 
 far enough from Elsie's mind, Jake gave her no 
 time to discuss the proposition, and, having 
 carefully marked where he could, if necessary, 
 strike Tom's trail again, he branched off in the 
 direction of the tilt. Elsie followed for all the 
 world like a child. 
 
 Another half-hour passed in silence, and 
 then suddenly Jake, who was ahead, gave a 
 joyous shout. 
 
 "Come along, lass," he said. "I thought as 
 much. Here's his trail, and he's surely mak- 
 ing for the tilt." "We might have saved the 
 night's wandering," he thought, but was too 
 generous to say so, and merely added, "Tom '11 
 be main surprised to get visitors out here, if so 
 be as he has n't left again." 
 
 26
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 Time took wings to itself now, and it only 
 seemed a few moments before the poles mark- 
 ing the track to the tilt, which was hidden in 
 the dense spruces, came into view. Jake, still 
 ahead, went in without waiting, for the marks 
 of the trail had revealed to him a far more 
 anxious tale than he had shown. 
 
 Tom was lying face down, stretched out on 
 the big bed of spruce-tips — his arm still 
 round the body of the beautiful silver fox. 
 
 A good blazing fire, some hot tea, and even 
 dry loaf to eat soon made a difference — and 
 chafing his extremities soon brought back ani- 
 mation to them. He had not been wet and the 
 depth of the soft spruce bed had fortunately 
 afforded him some little heat. Before night 
 the whole three were safely home, and all the 
 village knew that Tom Marvin had caught 
 a silver. 
 
 Alas, you can't keep a family on fox-meat, 
 and even now that they had good value to ex- 
 change for food, it was a serious task to get it. 
 The nearest station was a Hudson's Bay Com- 
 pany's post, nearly a hundred miles away. 
 Almost all the dogs in the village had either 
 
 27
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 died or been shot, as no one had any food with 
 which to supply them. But all hands were in- 
 terested, and enough half-fed animals were 
 collected to enable Jake and Tom to set out 
 for the Company's post. 
 
 It was two days' journey as a rule with an 
 empty sledge, but it would surely take four 
 days, coming back loaded, with the team avail- 
 able and the chances of bad weather. They 
 hoped to drag back at least three barrels of 
 flour, with fats and other supplies as well, so 
 they were counting on a thousand pounds at 
 the lowest reckoning. That meant the men 
 would have to walk every step of the way 
 back. 
 
 As soon as the skin was dried, it was care- 
 fully packed, and the two men set out on their 
 iournev over mountain vallevs and arms of the 
 sea, as light-hearted and confident as school- 
 bovs. Thev should be back at least a full 
 week before Christmas. 
 
 But the appointed time came and went, and 
 still there was no news of the sledge. It was 
 only four days to Christmas when Uncle Joe 
 sent out a relief party on foot, as there were 
 no more dogs left in the settlement. 
 
 28
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 The children, who had been expecting great 
 things ever since the fox was caught, had been 
 buoyed up on the tiptoe of expectancy with 
 tales of the "wunnerful" Christmas they were 
 going to have. 
 
 "No, no; Christmas is Christmas," said 
 Uncle Joe. "I says it do matter. Why, if Santa 
 Claus is to get to Noo Yawk on time, he 'in 
 obliged to pass here early. And if that there 
 Jake don't bring un along, I'll 'low he'll never 
 find this here cove t' year." 
 
 The growing anxiety of the village was not 
 diminished by the symptoms of still unsatis- 
 fied vital organs in the younger members of 
 more than one family. The hope of a happy 
 Christmas for the children had almost been 
 abandoned, when on the morning of Christ- 
 mas Eve one of the relief party dispatched for 
 the purpose reported the joyful news that the 
 loaded sledge was climbing the last range of 
 hills on the home journey. The enfeebled dogs 
 had been of little or no use. Moreover, half of 
 them had been sacrificed to feed the others. 
 At every uphill the sledge had to be unloaded, 
 and the barrels literally rolled up to the top. 
 Many a time since I have had to laugh as I 
 
 29
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 thought of the two men solemnly starting a 
 kind of egg-and-spoon race, as they pushed 
 their flour barrels up over the long steep hill- 
 sides. 
 
 But everything has to come to an end, and 
 before sundown the salvo of the last charges of 
 powder in Peace Haven announced the safe 
 return of the expedition. No time was lost in 
 packing and all night was lost in cooking. But, 
 at any rate, Elsie and Jessie and all the other 
 good mothers had something ready for the day 
 of days. 
 
 "It seldom rains but it pours," they say — 
 and it seemed so in this case. Late in the eve- 
 ning, while the attention of the village was 
 occupied with their sledge from the north, a 
 noise of shouting and of bells announced the 
 arrival of another team, from the south. 
 Before any one could say a word a great team 
 of Eskimo dogs, with a driver in Eskimo dress 
 and a tall, bearded man in furs, had drawn up 
 at Uncle Joe's door. 
 
 "Come right in quick, Doctor," said the old 
 man. "We're just looking for Santa Claus, 
 and I don't know but you 's him. Come right 
 in." And in the doctor promptly went, need- 
 
 30
 
 That Christmas in Peace Haven 
 
 ing, indeed, no second invitation after his 
 long journey. 
 
 The plot was soon hatched, Uncle Joe being 
 chief conspirator. "T" box what t' steamer 
 left for you in the fall, Doctor, — I've got it 
 right here. But, of course, there's no knowing 
 what's in un." 
 
 "Is it very heavy, Uncle Joe?" 
 
 "Well, now, it is and it ain't. I'm thinkin' 
 there's something beyand tinned meat in he." 
 
 The box was soon brought in and duly 
 opened. Fortunately I had noticed in Peace 
 Haven, as in many other places on the Lab- 
 rador, that, beyond cotton reels and other 
 educational but somewhat unsatisfactory sub- 
 stitutes, toys were characterized almost en- 
 tirely by their absence. Here and there a 
 cheap painted effigy could be seen perched 
 high up on the wall, well out of reach of the 
 children — a precaution probably as salutary 
 for the doll as for the infant. But I had tried 
 to remember this shortage, and before even a 
 tin of milk appeared, a large parcel of toys 
 containing many dolls was discovered. 
 
 The midnight round of Santa Claus; the 
 excitement and shouting in the morning; the 
 
 31
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 full meals at which you might eat all you liked, 
 but of course could n't; the magic lantern 
 slides shown by the doctor in the school- 
 house in the evening — are possibly just so 
 many negligible quantities in the economy of 
 the universe. But they were not in the annals 
 of Peace Haven. Joy filled the heart of Bertie 
 as he clasped to his breast his new calico cat as 
 tightly as had poor Tom the silver fox; bliss 
 reigned in the soul of Johnnie as he* strutted 
 from house to house to show his cronies the 
 first Teddy bear that ever braved the climate 
 of our Northland; while to the hearts of Jake 
 and his good wife, of Tom and Elsie, of Uncle 
 Joe and all the grown-ups in the village, not 
 excluding the doctor and the dogs, to whom 
 had been given an extra portion, came the 
 "Salaam" of Him whose Birthday they were 
 keeping, a present which can be given, but 
 never purchased.
 
 SAINTE ANNE DE BEAUPRfi 
 
 Probably the very last troubles one would 
 expect to meet in our country would be those 
 arising from the theories of ecclesiastics. Yet 
 the very bitterest animosities of which our 
 kindly folk are capable have almost always 
 been the outcome of the conviction that they 
 knew all about the road to heaven, a subject 
 on which every one else was hopelessly — and 
 probably "damnably" — ignorant. The fact 
 is that our minds here, like our snow in May, 
 have such deep rills cut into them by the 
 warmest and kindliest of suns that no power 
 on earth can ever level them off again; and, once 
 sectarian teaching and denominational school- 
 ing have done their deadly work on such simple 
 folk, the bias needs no adventitious aid from 
 the sinfulness of nature or the deceitfulness of 
 the tongue to switch off at times the pure waters 
 of an innate kindliness almost synonymous 
 with life under isolated and hard conditions. 
 
 One result of these unfortunate dogmatic 
 interpretations of our duty to God is very 
 
 33
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 obvious on this coast. Men of different affilia- 
 tions do not like — nay, hardly dare — to live 
 in communities where their isolation is made 
 more complete by it than by any physical 
 conditions. I know many a man who will not 
 hesitate to settle in the wildest and loneliest 
 localities, but whom no money would drag to 
 live amidst those of a different persuasion. 
 There is always one factor, however, which, 
 like the proverbial hospitality shown to the 
 very bitterest foe, will surmount even this 
 terrible mistranslation of religion, and that 
 is the bond which unmerited misfortune or 
 suffering creates. That never fails to release 
 the really divine in the most fanatical among 
 us, and, like some specially focused ray of our 
 exquisite sunshine, causes the living water of 
 human kindness to spring forth from the most 
 unexpected snow-bank. 
 
 It was just such a calamity which had 
 originally led the family of the subject of this 
 story, strong adherents of the Roman com- 
 munion, to settle in the little village of Peace 
 Haven, where only once a year could they 
 expect the visit of their tireless peripatetic 
 priest, and where, when death came, there was 
 
 34
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 always a risk of being deprived of those last 
 ministrations which they especially value so 
 highly. 
 
 Once the die is cast, a house built, a fishing- 
 room established, a fur path secured, the set- 
 tler here, like the limpet on our rocks, finds 
 moving to a distance almost an impossibility. 
 So it happened that this family of Irish extrac- 
 tion was surrounded by descendants of those 
 sturdy men of Devon and Dorset whose great- 
 est pride it ever was of yore to have had some 
 hand in helping to singe the King of Spain's 
 beard. 
 
 Patrick Bryan, the eldest son of this some- 
 what isolated household, had been, as was 
 only to be expected from his nationality, well 
 to the fore in every piece of boisterous fun 
 and harum-scarum adventure, in opportunities 
 for which the life at Peace Haven abounded. 
 Why some folk are not satisfied to get to the 
 top of a precipice, without climbing its face, it 
 is hard to say; and why others are never con- 
 tent to hold the sheet in their hands when the 
 lee rail of a small boat is already under water, 
 who can tell? Suffice it to say that there are 
 
 35
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 such folk, and among these Paddy, as they 
 called him, was always a ringleader. The 
 charm of life seemed to him to lie in taking 
 chances, and the loss of an eye by a mis- 
 adventure in one of these wild escapades 
 scarcely seemed to sober him up a whit. 
 
 Then like a bolt from the blue came that 
 which would be sufficient to drive courage and 
 hope from the hearts of the best of men. In a 
 trifling mimic battle with nothing more dan- 
 gerous than snowballs, one containing some- 
 thing sharp, possibly a bit of ice, caught him 
 full on his sound eye, and in a few seconds he 
 could see nothing at all. His terrified com- 
 panions led him instantly to his home, and the 
 advice and skill of all the elderly ladies of 
 Peace Haven were sought. But after tansy 
 poultices, electric oil, green worsted tied round 
 his wrist, shark's oil, and all the potions and 
 pills of the harbor's pharmacopoeia had been 
 tried, Paddy had still to grope his way about 
 without a glimmer of light to help him. 
 . It is barely possible that had Pat at once 
 come to the little mission hospital, just estab- 
 lished on the coast, he might still have saved 
 
 36
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 some useful quota of his sight, but, just as previ- 
 ously he had always been foremost in every 
 adventure without a care for consequences, he 
 was now absolutely the reverse. Apparently 
 nothing would induce him to allow his friends 
 to carry him a yard from his home. No remedy 
 was too foolish or too painful for him to try, 
 at the hands of these perfectly unskilled local 
 advisers. Granulated sugar and salt, pressed 
 up under the lid of the eye, pained him like 
 a red-hot knife, and probably sealed the last 
 chance of saving any remnant of sight, but he 
 bore it all like a martyr. He seemed perfectly 
 terrified at the thought of leaving home, pre- 
 ferring, like a frightened rabbit, to stay in his 
 hole and perish. 
 
 It was almost exactly a year later that a 
 komatik and dogs brought up at our little 
 hospital door, and a blind man was led in by 
 two of his friends to seek treatment. His 
 changed attitude had been induced by a visit 
 of the hospital steamer, during the summer 
 previous, to that part of the coast on which he 
 lived, when, hearing of his sad condition, we had 
 gone ashore to look him up. An hour or two 
 spent visiting among the sick, and we had gone 
 
 37
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 off again, having been able to do practically 
 nothing for Paddy's blindness, which examina- 
 tion made very obvious was beyond human 
 remedy. But it so happened that the other sick 
 in his harbor had received undoubted help 
 from the treatment given from the steamer, and 
 as soon as winter came on, and the "going" 
 was good, nothing would satisfy poor Pat but 
 that he must go to the hospital, and have his 
 eye taken out and cleaned. Accordingly, just 
 before Christmas, after a long journey occupy- 
 ing three days and involving camping in the 
 small tilts here and there provided for the use 
 of passing travelers, as full of faith and hope as 
 a child, I found the poor fellow sitting one 
 morning, waiting in the surgery for the miracle 
 which he was certain we were about to per- 
 form upon him. 
 
 It was easy to realize that practically the 
 man's whole joy in life lay in his inextinguish- 
 able optimism, and blankly to inform him that 
 there was no hope whatever would very prob- 
 ably cause a reaction similar to the one which 
 had previously cost him so much; and we 
 feared that a second such shock might have 
 permanent results, and the poor lad's mind 
 
 38
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 made melancholic for life. So, after much 
 ritual expended on his examination, and all our 
 ingenuity devoted to delphic utterances, we 
 advised him to stay for a while and see what 
 could be done. 
 
 Here, however, was a dilemma which had 
 never occurred to us. Pat wanted a miracle 
 performed upon him in true Biblical fashion — 
 a few words, and possibly time for an anoint- 
 ing would not have been amiss; or some trifling 
 task like washing in the Jordan he might have 
 been prepared for; but to stay alone with 
 strangers, with folk of a different creed, while 
 his friends were sent home, was a shock for 
 which he had not been prepared. It took all 
 the nurse's gentle art and possibly the assist- 
 ance of the merry talk of half a dozen conva- 
 lescents with whom he had dinner to woo him 
 into a state of mind in which he would listen to 
 advice. But at length his fixed idea that the 
 performance of a miracle was only a matter of 
 willingness on our part prevailed, and he went 
 out and communicated to his two friends his 
 conclusion — that he might be able to per- 
 suade us to perform it only if he stayed. 
 "T' Doctor says, Tim, as he can't do me no 
 
 39
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 good if I goes back with youse. But he 'lows 
 if I stays, he'll have a chance anyhow. 'T is 
 best for me to stay, I 'lows." 
 
 "I think 't is as you says, Pat; and if you be 
 goin' to stay, us '11 get back as far as Pigeon 
 Cove to-night, so as to get t' daylight to cross 
 t' neck." 
 
 Men of few words, they were soon harnessing 
 in their dogs, though Pat still clung to them 
 like a leech. lie had begged me to come down 
 with him and sec them off. You cannot get too 
 close to a man if you want him to see with your 
 eyes, and in a matter of the heart like this, no 
 opportunity is too trifling, for the very reason 
 that it is the inside man who is in evidence. 
 
 With a good hag of non-freezable pork buns 
 from our cook, and a large sack of dry capelin 
 for their dogs at night, and a specially designed 
 hearty send-off from our boys, the friends not 
 only left in high spirits, but, as Pat put it, "I 
 never seed the like of it in my life before, 
 Doctor" — already a confession of another 
 road to the visual centers than through the 
 optic nerves. 
 
 Week follows week quickly when the hand 
 and mind are busy, and from the very first no 
 
 40
 
 Sainte Anne de Bcaupre 
 
 effort was spared to exercise and train the 
 available faculties of our friend. He had al- 
 ready learned to make baskets, and was toiling 
 like a Titan with the intricacies of the Braille 
 system, before we thought wise to let him 
 know that it was probably only through these 
 and other such channels that he must expect 
 in future to correspond with the world outside. 
 Already, however, a new capacity for under- 
 standing was developing in him, and he was 
 able now to realize that it was well worth 
 while to be "biding with us awhile," away 
 from his home and friends, and that he need 
 have none of the vague fears, so common to 
 many, of the things of which they know noth- 
 ing. By open water Pat knew every one in our 
 harbor; he was a welcome visitor in every 
 home, for he possessed in unstinted measure 
 that cheery optimism of the blind; and the 
 natural kindliness of our folk was in any case 
 intensified by his disability. "He ruleth by the 
 right divine of helplessness." Never content 
 to be idle, he was always about with some 
 one mending nets, chopping wood, or doing 
 some of the odd work about the little cot- 
 tages. In spite of their differing tenets, this 
 
 41
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 realization of unfeigned kindliness was an evi- 
 dence of Christianity, and yet another revela- 
 tion to him. 
 
 Loaded with many small tokens of affection, 
 poor in value so far as money goes, but rich in 
 the truest sense to him, Pat left us early in 
 May. Uncle 'Lige from the Bight took him 
 along the first twenty miles of his journey in 
 his large trap boat, a service for which he 
 would not even accept thanks — "he would 
 just go for a cruise, anyhow, he reckoned." 
 
 With the exception of a very' occasional note 
 or rumor passed along the coast, we heard 
 little of Pat for the next two years. The family 
 was much reduced in circumstances, for though 
 Pat fished all the season with a young brother, 
 he was seriously handicapped. Moreover, they 
 were lean years on that section of the coast, 
 the fish not striking home to the shore. Fur- 
 trapping and deer-hunting Pat was cut off 
 from, and work about the house brought him 
 no money. 
 
 Notwithstanding their extreme poverty, the 
 custom of the coast and the long distances 
 between the scattered houses brought belated 
 travelers now and again for a night's lodging 
 
 42
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 to Pat's home, where they not only received 
 free lodging, but also, with open hand, a share 
 in such food as the larder could offer. From 
 one of these visitors one night Pat heard a 
 marvelous story. " 'Way up on the north 
 side of the St. Lawrence," said the stranger, 
 "is a won'erful place, where they does terrible 
 cures. They calls un'Beaupry.' They says St. 
 Anne, the Mother of the Virgin, came there 
 once, so they put up a fine church for her. 
 Seems she come again, too, for soon after that 
 those who were sick what went and prayed at 
 her altar got cured. When folks got to hear of 
 this, they started in coming from every place 
 around, and now there be hundreds — and 
 they says thousands — what goes there all the 
 while to get healed up." 
 
 As Paddy realized the utter impossibility of 
 ever getting there himself, the story made little 
 impression on him at the time. Quebec was as 
 far as Timbuctoo to a man who never left 
 Peace Haven. Some months later they were 
 pouring the tale into the sympathetic ear of 
 the priest, who was again making his annual 
 round of the coast, and asking him if he had 
 ever heard it. Why, of course he had. All the 
 
 43
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 world knew of the famous shrine. Were not 
 pilgrimages being made to it all the while from 
 every part of the world? "Would 'em fix me 
 up, Father, think you, if I could get there?" 
 broke in poor Pat. "Sure I'd crawl there on 
 my knees if I thought so." 
 
 "There's no knowing," answered the kindly 
 man. "They do say many get their sight there. 
 I'll tell you what I'll do, Pat. I'll see if I can 
 get a little money together to start you off 
 there after next fishing, and we'll all pray she 
 may grant you what you want." 
 
 So the shrine, never before thought of on 
 our coast, became the talk of the fireside. 
 "They say blind Pat is going to Canady to get 
 his sight cured t' fall," was the word in many a 
 cottage, and was uttered with faith enough to 
 make a wooden image see, if mental attitude 
 alone were the gauge of potency. The poor 
 attempts at modern surgery at the mission 
 hospital, or anywhere else, evaporated, some- 
 thing like Alice after swallowing the White 
 Rabbit's potion. 
 
 With Pat the months of the fishing-season 
 sped like a dream, though they contributed 
 little enough, over the amount needed by the 
 
 44
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 family, toward the expenses of the coming pil- 
 grimage. To all hands it was just a venture 
 into the great unknown, and when at length 
 the steamer lay at anchor in the harbor and 
 the poor lad had to set out friendless, blind, 
 and alone, with passage-money for only half 
 the journey and no provision beyond, it took 
 the best spirit of the crusader of old to hold 
 him to his resolution. 
 
 Every one within reach had chipped in with 
 his mite. The good priest had not only sent a 
 most helpful contribution, but as Paddy passed 
 south, he boarded the steamer and commended 
 his case to his fellow passengers. Every one 
 became interested in so cheerful, so hopeful, 
 and so uncomplaining a man, irrespective of 
 theories as to the outcome of the venture, and 
 a collection taken up for him gave him trans- 
 portation to his destination. But even then he 
 had to go almost without food in order to eke 
 out the residue to last till his journey's end. 
 
 Here, however, his upbringing stood him in 
 good stead, as he had tackled many a harder 
 job on one meal a day at home, and his in- 
 ward vision of what it would all mean to him 
 dispelled any clouds of doubt with which his 
 
 45
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 physical disabilities might have overwhelmed 
 him. As with the old Knights of the Holy Grail 
 such trifles passed almost unnoticed. Soon the 
 tedious journey was drawing to a close. From 
 the crowded train and the conversation going 
 on around him Pat had gathered that there 
 was a special pilgrimage on its way to the 
 famous shrine. Shy from the isolation of his 
 life, his infirmity made him strive all the more 
 to pass as much as possible unnoticed. Soon 
 he would be able to see, and then lie would 
 hold up his head with the best of them. The 
 very crowd made his isolation all the greater. 
 Moreover, every one was absorbed with his 
 own business; every one who was not himself 
 ill had some sick'person belonging to him on 
 whom he must attend. So when at length the 
 train stopped at its destination, and people 
 began to get out, Pat found himself with noth- 
 ing in his pocket and not a friend in the world 
 near enough to help him. He had been told by 
 the priest exactly what to do; he was to go to 
 the church, pray at the shrine of the saint, and 
 wait for the grace which was to open his eyes. 
 In Pat's mind there was never a moment's 
 doubt as to what he should do first. Of course 
 
 46
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 he must go up and get his sight. Hunger and 
 sleep and such trifles were all forgotten. He 
 was as one possessed. Even as his feet touched 
 the ground he felt like another man; his shy- 
 ness instantly disappeared, and his tongue 
 at least was restored to its natural function. 
 Seizing the first passer-by on the platform, he 
 inquired, eagerly, "Where is it to?" 
 
 "Where is what 'to'?" 
 
 "Why, where un goes t' be cured." 
 
 "Follow the crowd." And the stranger, 
 shaking off the detaining hand, pushed hastily 
 on, eager evidently on some quest of his own. 
 
 It was a rebuff none the less keen because 
 unmerited. Several people jolted against him, 
 and once or twice Pat was nearly knocked over. 
 To him it seemed as if out of so many people, 
 surely some one would help him; till he sud- 
 denly realized that he was actually all the more 
 alone because of the crowd. At home every 
 one's business was his neighbor's; here no one 
 seemed to have time enough even for his own. 
 Once or twice he tried to speak to people, but 
 they could not, and he thought would not, 
 understand him. He had never known that 
 the world could be so thoughtless of others, 
 
 47
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 though he remembered what an enormous ex- 
 pense a single meal seemed to him to be, and 
 he thought perhaps they could n't afford to 
 add to their burdens by giving meals to a 
 stranger. In that short half-hour at the sta- 
 tion he had learned many things, and as the 
 crowd melted away and left him, a great yearn- 
 ing to be back at Peace Haven overwhelmed 
 him. But he got up and followed the crowd, 
 and shortly found they were stopping near a 
 church, into which they were slowly filing. 
 Not knowing what to do, he just stood still and 
 waited. 
 
 Seeing him standing there hesitating, a child 
 asked him what he was looking for. 
 
 "The altar," he replied, "the altar of St. 
 Anne." 
 
 Instinctively the little fellow seemed to know 
 that Pat was blind, and, taking his hand, he led 
 him, not only into the church, but up to the 
 very steps of the altar itself, where many 
 others were already kneeling, and which most 
 assuredly otherwise Pat could never have found. 
 
 Poor Pat. It was no fault of his if he did not 
 get his prayer answered. Certainly his faith 
 had never been excelled. He had the most 
 
 48
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 absolute belief that in an hour or so at most he 
 would be cured. At first the hours seemed as 
 nothing. He merely thought that the petitions 
 of the many others were occupying the saint's 
 attention. Then at last he became physically 
 weary, and the first shadow of doubt crossed 
 his mind, and the recollection of the words he 
 had heard at the hospital — that nothing could 
 restore his sight — came back to him. Still, 
 there were others coming and going, and he 
 would hold on till the last moment. 
 
 The church was getting quieter now; the 
 rush of people had almost ceased, and silence 
 reigned at last so completely that he could hear 
 his own heart beating, he thought. He knew it 
 was dark, and that he was nearly alone, and 
 for the first time the lessening preoccupation 
 of his mind left room for the appreciation of 
 physical hunger. What must he do? He had 
 no money for the saint. He had offered her all 
 he had to offer. His past experience of almost 
 universal human sympathy would not let him 
 believe that a saint could be really obdurate. 
 He had prayed with all the words he knew how 
 to use. What was now left to him to do? 
 
 Doubt soon began to be fear in his mind. 
 
 49
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 Could it be possible that she would not help? 
 or that men had deceived him on purpose, and 
 that she could not help him in his trouble? 
 They had given money; surely that meant 
 that they too believed in her power. He was 
 getting cold and miserable, and had neither 
 friends nor money nor knowledge of what to 
 do. 
 
 Time now seemed endless, and as his fears 
 began to be realized, and everything every- 
 where grew darker to him, fear gave place to 
 anger. Kising from his knees in a storm of 
 passion, he flung himself out of the church. 
 Somehow he got outside, and even down the 
 steps without accident. Now the cool evening 
 air sobered him up. He had come back to the 
 world of facts, and the magnitude of the prob- 
 lems before him overwhelmed even his self- 
 possession. He could have cried aloud for 
 help, regardless of the fact that he expected 
 no one to pay any attention to him. The 
 thoughtlessness and selfishness of the crowd 
 had given him an altogether new view of 
 the world. Here were supposedly the best of 
 men, Christian men full of faith, and yet he 
 could not bring himself to ask help from any 
 
 50
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 of them, fearing to face another rebuff in his 
 present state of mind. Oh, to be back home 
 again! seeing or blind, he did not care. He 
 would have given his hearing as well if he could 
 only have tasted again the feeling that men 
 sympathized with him and loved him. 
 
 Suddenly the unexpected happened. A hand 
 was laid on his shoulder, and a voice said to 
 him in the most kindly tone, "Well, Paddy, 
 where are you going for the night?" It was 
 the voice of one of his fellow passengers on 
 the train. The poor fellow was speechless, but 
 silence was golden this time. The stranger in 
 the train had learned his story, and then lost 
 sight of him in the crowd, busy with his own 
 affairs. However, he was able to read the 
 conflicting emotions, culminating in despair, 
 which were so plainly written on Pat's fea- 
 tures. So he did not wait for an answer, but 
 locking his arm in Paddy's, he just said, 
 "Come along; I'll give you a bed to-night." 
 
 The reaction was marvelous, and no doubt 
 was Pat's salvation. It was exactly what folk 
 would do at Peace Haven. He almost fancied 
 that he was at home again, and when at length 
 the supper was served, and he was told to "sit 
 
 51
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 right in," — the very words with which he was 
 so familiar at home, — the awful feeling of 
 loneliness left him, and he broke down and 
 cried like a child. 
 
 The unknown friend proved to be "only a 
 laboring man," a man with a family of his own; 
 but he took interest enough in poor Paddy to 
 straighten out all his difficulties, and eventu- 
 ally to see him off safely for his long journey 
 back, and that not without something with 
 which to buy a bit of food on the way. 
 
 In due course of time Pat reached home 
 again. His friends have not yet agreed on any 
 interpretation of the strange events, except 
 that, having no theoretical faith in saints 
 anyhow, unfortunately, in their intellectual 
 self-satisfaction, they know that Paddy just 
 wasted his time and money. 
 
 A strange change had come over Pat, how- 
 ever, and no one was more conscious of it than 
 was he himself. With physical eyes he still 
 cannot see physical things, or even the phys- 
 ical faces of those he loves. But for all that his 
 eyes had been opened, yes, very widely opened, 
 and he saw life and its true values in alto- 
 gether new lights. "With possibly less trust in 
 
 52
 
 Sainte Anne de Beaupre 
 
 saints in heaven, he had learned to have more 
 use for saints on earth. Not St. Anne, but the 
 unknown laborer had been the means of a 
 better eye-opening than he had ever hoped 
 to receive. "Paddy is as blind as a bat," men 
 will tell you in Peace Haven, but his unselfish 
 life, his happy face and uncomplaining nature, 
 and his humble services, gladly rendered to any 
 and every man, have done more in these past 
 few years to sweeten Peace Haven than Peace 
 Haven knows — and there are some of us who 
 still believe that Paddy did after all receive 
 his sight at Sainte Anne de Beaupre.
 
 THE CHRISTMAS VOYAGE OF THE 
 HANDY LASS 
 
 Tiie good schooner Handy Lass had sailed 
 once more for the Labrador, taking with her 
 all the hopes, and most of the possessions, of 
 Uncle Solomon Anstey. The bread and butter 
 for his whole large family depended on this 
 annual venture. The ice this spring had been 
 the latest on record. The very oldest resident 
 "had never even heard from his grandfather of 
 the Straits being blocked in August." There 
 had not been twentv-four hours clear of drift 
 ice since Skipper Solomon left Icy Tickle. 
 
 With him, for their first long trip, were his 
 two oldest boys, 'Lige and Ben. Each was to 
 have half a man's share out of the voyage; 
 and big indeed they had felt, as in their new 
 blue guernseys and sea-boots they had waved 
 good-bye to the "children," left with their 
 mother to tend the garden and home. 
 
 ^Yeek after week the ice held on. The time 
 for the capelin school had come and gone, and 
 when one day we happened to board the Handy 
 Lass, we almost believed Uncle Solomon was 
 discouraged. 
 
 54
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 "No, Doctor, believe me. We've ne'er a 
 fish under salt yet, and t' time nearly runned 
 up for trapping already. — But the good Lord 
 knows best for we," he added guiltily, and I 
 caught his eye as he looked round to see if I 
 had noticed the nearest approach to quarreling 
 with the Almighty's dealings that I had ever 
 seen him display. 
 
 "You'll have to go farther north and stay 
 later, Uncle Solomon," I replied. "But you 
 don't mind the ice. I 've seen you hauling the 
 anchor chain without a mitt on, long after the 
 harbor had been 'caught over.'" 
 
 'That's right enough, Doctor. It's them at 
 home I'm thinkin' on. There's five little ones 
 besides 'Lige and Ben, and them do eat a 
 power of vittles." 
 
 Three months afterward, our own hospital 
 steamer had gone into winter quarters. The 
 ice was already making in all the coves; and 
 the fleet had gone south. Late one evening a 
 belated vessel, flying no less than three some- 
 what tattered flags, anchored in the roadstead. 
 She was veritably "bringing up the keel of the 
 Labrador." It did not take us long, with the 
 glasses from the balcony of our house, to make 
 
 55
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 out the lines and rigging of the Handy Lass. 
 She was log-loaded, and, being driven in for 
 shelter on her way south, had hoisted all her 
 bunting to emphasize that fact for our infor- 
 mation. 
 
 "Well, Uncle Solomon," I exclaimed, as the 
 radiant features of my old friend welcomed 
 me over the rail. "So you've done it after 
 all." 
 
 'Yes, t'ank God," he answered. Ask and 
 it shall be given; seek and ye shall find'; and 
 we found 'em north of Gulch Cave, when the 
 ice was already making on the meshes at night. 
 But we'm in some trouble, Doctor, and I'm 
 real glad it was fixed for we to call in and see 
 you. Ben here has been ailin' the last month, 
 and us can see nothin' t' matter. I'd just like 
 to have you look at him." 
 
 An examination made even in the deep, dark 
 bunk of a small schooner revealed the need for 
 immediate operation. 
 
 "There's trouble in his appendix. That's 
 his stomach, you know. You should have him 
 taken right up to the hospital for operation. 
 We can send him home by the last mail-boat. 
 She runs from here till January; and if she 
 
 56
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 does n't get along that trip, we '11 keep him till 
 spring." 
 
 "It's as you says, Doctor." 
 
 So the following morning the schooner sailed 
 away, leaving the veritable Benjamin of the 
 crew in our hands. Fortunately, things went 
 well. Ben made a good recovery, and it was 
 only the early ice preventing the steamer 
 getting into our harbor that was keeping him 
 with us. 
 
 Day by day slipped by, and no westerly gale 
 came to clear the coast of the young "slob." 
 Our older patients took little notice of the fact 
 that the steamer had failed to "reach North" 
 on her second fortnightly December trip. 
 The vagaries of our weather had made them 
 stoical. But Ben was like the master watch 
 who cannot find the seal-patch in March. 
 Nothing would satisfy him that he could exist 
 away from home for Christmas, especially with 
 that "half -share" awaiting him. 
 
 At last came Christmas Eve, and with it all 
 the preparations the good nurses always make 
 for that occasion. Ben was mystified at the 
 "spruce boughs being brought right into the 
 house." The gay bunting in all the wards was 
 
 57
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 a new experience to him. It fairly forced him 
 to be interested. "What's un for, Miss?" he 
 asked the nurse many times, as he gazed at the 
 various decorations. To his utilitarian mind 
 money spent, except for necessities, was wasted 
 on "that which profiteth not." The feeling of 
 secrecy that pervaded the whole atmosphere 
 so fascinated him that he forgot his troubles; 
 and when Christmas Day was ove^r, and all 
 its festivities, including the fun of a real 
 Santa Claus, who had brought him a beautiful 
 pocket knife, he caught the spirit of the rest, 
 and gave himself up to a very riot of enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 At length, however, the long-expected west- 
 erly gales came. All but the standing ice was 
 scattered over the ocean's face, and the plucky 
 little mail-boat once more forced a passage to 
 our doors and Ben at last betook himself to the 
 bosom of his family. 
 
 It was not till the following fall that I again 
 met with Uncle Solomon. The fleet is large, 
 the fishing-grounds scattered, and somehow, 
 in the journeys of the earlier summer, we 
 failed to run across the Handy Lass. So when 
 one day we descried her working north among 
 
 58
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 half a dozen other craft, we steamed up under 
 her lee, and hailed the watch. 
 
 Uncle was summoned on deck, and when he 
 saw us alongside, he at once hove his vessel 
 to the wind and invited us to drop a boat to 
 come aboard. We were keen enough to catch a 
 glimpse of our last winter's patient, but more 
 so to hear what Uncle Solomon's views were on 
 the saving of his boy's life. 
 
 It was Ben himself, strong and hearty, who 
 was standing watch, and he literally fell all 
 over us, as we climbed aboard. It would have 
 done any landsman good to have felt the grip 
 which Uncle Solomon always gives either 
 friend or stranger. 
 
 "So you got your Benjamin back safely, 
 Skipper?" 
 
 'Why, yes, t'ank God, Doctor. He done a 
 good winter's work." 
 
 I was wondering how a modern surgical 
 operation had impressed him, and so asked, 
 " Don't you find it strange that we were able 
 to cut him open and put our hands right into 
 him?" 
 
 "Well, I've been splittin' codfish these forty 
 years now, Doctor, and sometimes I mostly 
 
 59
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 thinks I could split a man. But you's right 
 about the sewing up. Doctor, there be one 
 thing that Ben never stops talkin' about, and 
 that be 's the times they had at Christmas. An 
 old spruce all ablaze, he says, like t' burnin' 
 bush, and presents on it for every one. You 
 can't stop him, Doctor, and nothin' will satisfy 
 him now but us must have one like it come 
 Christmas." , 
 
 The dream seemed destined to be realized. 
 Once again the old skipper "struck t' fish." 
 "Got right in among 'em," as he informed me 
 later. And so, reaching home with a "bumper 
 voyage," he reckoned "he'd carry it to St. 
 John's himself, and sell it straight to the big 
 merchants." "They gives more'n the small 
 peddlers," he explained as an excuse for this 
 departure from the time-immemorial custom 
 of bartering it with a trader. 
 
 Uncle Solomon's judgment was more than 
 justified by his experiences in St. John's. 
 "Why, they'd as soon give cash as trade," he 
 reported. "And it is beyond all, the way them 
 peddlers in the shops looks at a bit o' cash." 
 His earnings, to his surprise and joy, reached 
 far beyond the mere common "heavy stuffs" 
 
 60
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 that form the staples of life in most of the 
 fishermen's cottages. Some cocoa and milk 
 were added, and then "some of that Ameri- 
 can tinned meat," which they adore, and a few 
 other small luxuries. Even then, Uncle Solo- 
 mon was not easy, for there lay still in his un- 
 accustomed pocket — a bag of dollars "that 
 be no use in t' winter in Icy Tickle." 
 
 So a consultation was held with the "offi- 
 cers ' on board the Handy Lass, among 
 whom 'Lige and Ben were privileged to sit. 
 The presumptive problem was, 'What shall 
 us do with t' balance comin' to we?" but the 
 real question at issue in Uncle Solomon's mind 
 was, "Should they have a Christmas tree?" It 
 is wonderful how strong! v one determined 
 member can swing a jury. It is true, Ben was 
 the junior member. But with him conviction 
 was so strong, and the rest were so undecided 
 as to what was best, that a serious effort for a 
 combined Christmas tree, the first ever held in 
 Icy Tickle, was finally agreed upon. 
 
 AYeird packages, assorted and numerous, 
 soon crowded the small storage space in the 
 Handy Lass's after cupboards, for the ship was 
 log-loaded, both below and on deck. Private 
 
 61
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 corners, long hallowed by custom for tobacco 
 tins and special oddments, were cheerfully re- 
 signed for mysterious paper bags. No spot 
 was sacred, and Uncle Solomon was once very 
 near to complaining when he reached out and 
 found his little pet store of smoking-materials 
 had been "tidied up," and only a soft, pudgy 
 bag greeted his anticipatory fingers. 
 
 "A southerly wind and a cloudless skv bc- 
 tokened a sailing morning," and it w r as with 
 hearts as light as their pockets that they at 
 last let go their shore hawsers, swung off into 
 the stream, cat-headed the anchor, and steered 
 out into the open, with the Handy Lass's jib- 
 boom pointing "northward ho." 
 
 Uncle Solomon told me later, "Boys will 
 be boys, but them lads was fair beyond all." 
 Ben was for hanging some of the packages on 
 the cross-trees, and even the sober-minded 
 mate, Uriah, seriously considered 'Lige's sug- 
 gestion to call into Sleepy Cove on the way 
 "down North'" and get some spruce boughs 
 to fix on the mainmast. "Why, folks would 
 have thought us was ruined, and the ship 
 were for sale," said Uncle Solomon, "or else 
 that us was over-proud and thought us could 
 
 62
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 sweep t' seas. But still, Doctor, you knows 
 there be them in Icy Tickle what has never 
 seed St. John's, and they old folks be easy up- 
 set, when 'em has n't seed t' world. There 'd 
 have been talk enough about we as it were, 
 for Ben had lashed a large animal they calls a 
 * Steady Bear' onto the bobstay, unbeknownst 
 to us, in St. John's harbor." 
 
 The dog watch was over — the first watch 
 was set for the night. The schooner was just 
 airing along on her voyage north over an 
 almost oily sea, and all hands were sitting on 
 the rail yarning about the great time they 
 would have at Christmas. They were keeping 
 it up so long that Skipper Solomon had just 
 come up on deck to order the watch below to 
 turn in, fearing that they would sleep on their 
 watch — a real danger on these moonless 
 nights in December with the ice about. 
 
 Suddenly, without any warning, like a bolt 
 from the blue, something struck the vessel, as 
 if it had been the hammer of Thor. Like a wild 
 animal taken unawares, the Handy Lass 
 seemed to make one great leap in the air, 
 throwing every man off his feet. There fol- 
 lowed a terrible moment of horror, and yet of 
 
 63
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 hope. The men by the lee bulwarks were al- 
 ready in the water, but the skipper grasped the 
 mainsheet block as he fell, and was holding on 
 for dear life. Against the clear sky he could 
 see the weather rail rising up and up and up, 
 as the ship canted more and more over. Under 
 the fearful pressure of the wind, she was being 
 slowly driven down, much as the giant Gaul 
 forced the bull to earth with his mighty 
 strength. The brave little vessel was like a live 
 thing, fighting for every inch. She seemed to 
 be making one supreme struggle for life, and 
 now it almost looked as if she were gaining; so 
 much so that though the deck was already 
 nearly perpendicular, the skipper, clinging to 
 the block, had time to get out his jack-knife, 
 hoping to cut the main sheet, and so ease 
 the pressure from the mainsail. Could he have 
 done it, the ship might still have been saved. 
 But it was not so ordained. Before he could 
 sever a single strand, a second blow struck the 
 vessel. She reeled, staggered, hung for one 
 brief moment — and then fell over. 
 
 How it all happened, and how any one ever 
 managed to escape from beneath the ruin, no 
 one will ever be able to explain. There was an 
 
 64
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 awful crash, a roar of falling cargo, a fearful 
 moment of utter black darkness below the cold 
 waters, a struggle to get clear of wreckage, and 
 then each man, grasping some hatch or board 
 or loose case, found himself floating in the 
 darkness in that frigid sea. It has often been 
 said that our fishermen are like limpets, such 
 is their power of clinging on. All their lives 
 they are grasping and hauling; and, shaking 
 hands in the dark, you can easily recognize 
 a fisherman, by his heavy, bent hand, which 
 never straightens quite out as does a land- 
 lubber's. 
 
 There is no need to make apologies, how- 
 ever, for their strength and endurance and 
 courage now served each man well. The 
 Handy Lass was lying flat on her side, unable 
 to rise owing to her shifted cargo, and the 
 sea was pouring into her hatches. Uncle Solo- 
 mon was the first to get clear of the water. 
 He had crawled up on the vessel's side like a 
 cat, going hand over hand along the lanyards, 
 and was now lying out on the starboard bilge, 
 clinging fast to the after channel plates. In- 
 stinctively he at once began calling out to his 
 men, and as he told me himself, was more than 
 
 65
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 surprised to hear so many answering. An aw- 
 ful sense of utter loneliness had gripped him 
 like a vice, but it was soon all forgotten as he 
 worked his way fore and aft to help his strug- 
 gling lads into temporary safety. 
 
 Almost before they all had assembled on 
 the boat's bottom, the cyclone had vanished. 
 There was scarcely a cloud in the sky and 
 hardly a wave on the sea; only a sullen, re- 
 sentful roll, as if Father Xeptune himself was 
 growling because old Boreas had played him so 
 scurvy a trick. 
 
 "Keep up your hearts, lads," said Uncle 
 Solomon. 'The Lord has brought us through 
 so far. Maybe He'll save us out of this yet." 
 Every man in the crew acquits him of even a 
 trace of complaining this time. " Keep up your 
 hearts. T' boat seems gone, but I 'lows we can 
 make shift for a raft, if she floats long enough." 
 With that, he started crawling out along the 
 rigging, hoping he might cut loose the main 
 gaff from the sail, and so have something to 
 start on. Meanwhile the mate did the same 
 along the mizzen. 
 
 To the shivering lads on the vessel's side it 
 seemed ages, but Solomon says it was n't two 
 
 66
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 minutes, as he groped his way out over the 
 water, before he discovered that the ship's 
 dory had broken from her lashings, and was 
 floating upside down under the mainsail. To 
 how many men, at such a time, and in such a 
 plight, would this have meant anything? It 
 did not take Uncle Solomon long to see its 
 possibilities. With his clasp-knife, fast now 
 to his wrist with a piece of spunyarn for fear it 
 might be knocked from his grasp, he began his 
 perilous task. Abandoning his hold on the 
 more solid rigging, he flung himself into the 
 half-sunken body of the sail, and half-swim- 
 ming and half-wading, he succeeded in crawl- 
 ing up and lying out on the dory's bottom. By 
 clever maneuvering, he managed to cut away 
 the canvas all along the dory, which eventually 
 bobbed up through, and as dories will, imme- 
 diately turned right over, and lay there, full to 
 the brim of water. 
 
 All hands knew from his constant calling 
 what he was doing, and long before he had 
 finished, the boys had cut and undone a hal- 
 yard and flung one end for him to make fast by. 
 
 To bail her out was now the only difficulty. 
 Once that could be done, there remained at 
 
 67
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 least a chance for their lives. But one tiling 
 they had already realized, and that was that 
 there was not much time left them. The 
 water was fast reaching up the side of their 
 brave little craft, and they all knew well that 
 a few minutes more, and her efforts to help 
 them in their need must come to an end 
 forever. 
 
 "Quick, Ri! Quick, boys!" fairly yejled Un- 
 cle Solomon, who had already hauled off his 
 big sea-boots, and forced one into the mate's 
 hands. "Bail for your lives. We must get 
 clear before the ship sinks, or she '11 carry us all 
 with her." 
 
 Now began a veritable race for life. There 
 in the dark, in that sunken dory which was 
 only kept upright by a fast-settling vessel, were 
 five men bailing out water with their sea-boots, 
 working with all their might, for life itself hung 
 on the issue. 
 
 " You 're gainin' on her, boys; you 're gainin' ! 
 Let her have it! T' seats only is awash now; 
 t' rail 's free ! She '11 float us in another minute ! 
 Keep at it; it'll keep you from freezin'! Bail 
 away!" And suchlike encouragements slipped 
 off Uncle Solomon's tongue, as if he had been 
 
 68
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 born to the role of orator. In the face of real 
 danger he had neither desire nor time for com- 
 plaints. Suddenly like thunder, "Leave it 
 to the boys, Ri!" he shouted. "Cut the oars 
 loose : they 're lashed under the thwarts ! Push 
 off! Push off! We're all safe now; but keep 
 bailin', boys! keep bailin'!" Then, so that 
 only the mate could hear, "She'll be gone in a 
 second, Ri. Push, as you love your life." 
 
 Even as he spoke something came up from 
 the sea beneath, and lifted the boat they were 
 in almost out of water. Had she not still been 
 partly waterlogged, Uncle Solomon says they 
 must all have capsized again. As it was, the 
 after leach rope of the mainsail scraped all 
 along the bottom, and, lifting their bow, as 
 they finally slipped off into clear water, it 
 nearly sent them all down stern foremost. 
 
 Then for a moment, though it might have 
 cost them their lives, every man stopped bail- 
 ing. For slowly the Handy Lass righted her- 
 self for the last time. Mizzen and mainmast, 
 with all canvas set, were uncannily carried up 
 into the sky out of that horrible darkness, and 
 the great gap in the mainsail through which 
 the dory had come grinned at them all, just for 
 
 69
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 one moment, like the evil eye. As they looked, 
 the stern went down deeper and deeper, and 
 kept throwing the jib-boom more and more 
 vertically upright, till at last nothing was 
 visible above the surface but the bowsprit and 
 its rigging. Then slowly and stubbornly that 
 sank, too, and vanished out of sight beneath 
 the icy waters. 
 
 'Ben, did you see it?" cried 'Lige. 
 
 '"Deed I did. It was grinnin' like Satan." 
 
 "Sure; it seemed to put up its hand to wave 
 good-bye to us." 
 
 "Put up its finger to its nose," answered 
 Ben. 
 
 They had completely forgotten the danger, 
 the fact that they were still up to their knees 
 in water, and that they might go down any 
 minute. 
 
 "Quit foolin', boys, and bail as hard as you 
 can!" shouted Uncle Solomon, as he worked 
 unceasingly himself. "What did you see, any- 
 how? There was nothing but the old ship." 
 
 "Sure there was," answered 'Lige, though he 
 was now keeping time with his father as they 
 worked at the water in the boat. "Sure, Ben's 
 1 Steady Bear ' climbed right out and sat on the 
 
 70
 
 Christmas Voyage of the Handy Lass 
 
 end of the bobstay, as the Handy Lass went 
 down." 
 
 Steering by the stars, which seemed to be 
 friendly watchers of their efforts, and con- 
 tinually bailing and rowing to keep all hands 
 occupied, they made good progress, so that 
 before the day broke, the land loomed up only 
 some four or five miles distant. Fearing that 
 any minute a breeze of wind might spring up, 
 they never slacked for a second, and an hour 
 or two later they landed in a little cove at the 
 bottom of a bay quite strange to them, and 
 with no inhabitants. A blazing fire was soon 
 under way, for Uncle Solomon's water-tight 
 matchbox was the only rival in his affections 
 of his pocket Bible. Then a few miles of fol- 
 lowing the coast-line brought them to a lonely 
 house. 
 
 A whole week elapsed before they succeeded 
 in reaching a port where they could find a 
 chance to get passage for Icy Tickle, and long 
 before they finally arrived, the "mothers and 
 wives were 'most despairing." 
 
 No, there was no Christmas tree, either that 
 year or the next at Icy Tickle. They had lost 
 too much in the wreck to let them think of 
 
 71
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 more than bread and butter for many a day. 
 "But," said Uncle Solomon, "Doctor, my 
 missis says she got a Christmas present all 
 right. It was me and t' boys that t' Lord give 
 her back. And with that He taught me, too, 
 not to have a complainin' mind because us 
 did n't have all t' things t' others has. 'T is 
 a grand thing to be alive; better 'n havin' 
 things. And us has nearly finished the new 
 Handy Lass now, Doctor." 
 
 I could n't help smiling as he finished his 
 tale, for after a short pause he added, "But 
 we 'm be goin' to have a Christmas tree one o* 
 them days, all t' same."
 
 THE GIFTS OF POVERTY 
 
 It was as wonderful a day as ever the old earth 
 sees, — a cloudless sky, a glorious sun, a light 
 offshore wind, and our ship lolling lazily on 
 the deepest of deep-blue waters. The supreme 
 sense of joy at being alive, characteristic of the 
 sub-arctic, was at its summit. There was a 
 brisk tang in the air which forbade lassitude, 
 either of mind or body. Ashore the marshes 
 were stiffened up with young frost, and the 
 fresh-water lakes had just "caught over." 
 
 The annual exodus from Labrador which 
 characterizes the approach of winter had be- 
 gun, as some willow grouse, in their exqui- 
 site fall plumage, and a brace of fine fat geese 
 hanging in our rigging testified. 
 
 On every hand it was written that Dame 
 Nature was busy with her winter preparations. 
 She had posted her order to us to "get out 
 quick," in brilliant and insistent letters of salt- 
 water ice on our freeboard. She had added a 
 glittering, new, white "Plimsoll mark" right 
 round our water-line, and had attached large 
 white traveling-tags to the links of our anchor 
 
 73
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 chain. The whirring wings of large companies 
 of sea-birds, "southward-bound," kept sound- 
 ing a curfew to us to follow. Even our cod- 
 fish were forsaking the shallows, and seeking 
 the deeper and darker waters at the word of 
 Her-who-must-be-obeyed. The mate, sitting 
 on the rail, had apparently been reading my 
 thoughts, for he suddenly broke in, " 'T is 
 getting on time, Doctor, to be thinkin' of 
 them poor underwriters, ain't it?*' 
 
 A little later, if a land-lubber had not 
 noticed the square blue flag with its white 
 center at our masthead, he would have won- 
 dered what gave such spring to the heels of 
 our sailors, who, to look at, were far from 
 being fairies. 
 
 A ship half the size of Columbus's, the 
 Atlantic still farther north and grown no more 
 docile with age, the winter equinox past, long 
 nights, heavy winds, and high seas expected, 
 not a little forbidding ice dotted about the 
 horizon — all these together cannot stop men 
 who have a vision of home from whistling at 
 their work. Indeed, the only additional tonic 
 to be desired by a healthy soul was just a good, 
 keen problem. 
 
 74
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 At these times the responsive nature of our 
 men of the sea simply overflows with kindness. 
 A company of our Labrador friends, warned of 
 our departure by the blue peter at our main, 
 had swarmed aboard to bid us "au revoir." 
 Yet, in spite of all, and of many little souvenirs 
 which we saw passing from our seamen's kit- 
 bags to those of their friends, to whom even 
 such small gifts were of no mean value, an air 
 of gloom hung over the section of the little 
 world on deck — a tinge of the sorrow which 
 eternally hangs over things human and tran- 
 sient. 
 
 Among the group on deck we found two of 
 our oldest friends. They were of a more re- 
 served type than a lonely environment usually 
 produces, but they were known as bosom 
 companions, first-class workmen, and excellent 
 neighbors in time of need. When we wished a 
 hospital completed, when one of our boats had 
 been injured and needed repairing, — indeed, 
 whenever any difficulty overtook any one, — 
 it was always to Uncle Ben and Uncle Abe 
 that our little world turned; and when it did 
 so, it never found them wanting. 
 
 We knew that all our friends were suffering 
 
 75
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 from a particularly poor fishing season, and we 
 who were bound for home and plenty could not 
 hut feel a soft spot for those left to face what 
 might turn out to be the hard hand of hunger. 
 
 "Are you going to meet your debts and have 
 anything coming to you this winter, Uncle 
 Abe?" I queried. 
 
 "When my father died, Doctor," he replied, 
 "he left me in debt to the traders. I just turns 
 in all I gets — they knows I do* — so they 
 keeps me along. But it will be a bit hard this 
 time, I knows. You can't expect them to feed 
 folks for nothin'. There won't be no luxuries, 
 I'm 'lowing," he laughed. 
 
 "That was a bad heritage. I should hate to 
 leave it to any son of mine." 
 
 "Bad enough, Doctor, but I'm gettin' on in 
 life, and the Lord has n't given us ne'er a child 
 
 — and" — he turned his head away, as he 
 said it, though I knew of what he was thinking 
 
 — "well, something may come along yet." 
 
 It is hard that the necessities of one's life 
 should depend on the whim of another, and 
 that the dreadful cloud of want should hang 
 over the old age of men, who, at great risk to 
 life and with hard labor, have spent all their 
 
 76
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 active years toiling as producers for their 
 country. 
 
 Now, years after the event told in this story, 
 an old-age pension has been granted them. 
 
 There were tears on Uncle Abe's weather- 
 beaten cheeks as he turned round again. 
 They were not for himself, but I knew it was 
 of the beloved partner of his life that he was 
 thinking. 
 
 "How about you, Uncle Ben? They tell me 
 you have been meeting some head winds these 
 past two years." 
 
 "There was never a truer word, Doctor. 
 What wi' losin' nets in the ice last fall, and 
 then t' schooner on Deadman's Rocks this 
 spring, there won't be much left to fill the 
 bread-box, come settlin' day.'* 
 
 "Oh, I'm sure the trader will do as well by 
 you as by Uncle Abe," I answered. "Only 
 yesterday he was telling me you were the best 
 dealer he had. He said you had never been in 
 debt yet." 
 
 "Maybe he would, and maybe he would n't," 
 was the reply. "But I've never owed a man a 
 cent yet, and it will be a dry diet for us before 
 I gets into any man's hands." 
 
 77
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 it- 
 
 You don't mean that you were born and 
 bred in Labrador, and were never in debt?" 
 
 "That 's what I does, Doctor. I settles 
 accounts every October-end these forty years 
 since I fended for myself, and the Lord 's been 
 that good to me that I've come out square 
 every time. Yes, and had enough not to be 
 hungry either, thank God," he said fervently. 
 
 "I don't know many other men on the coast 
 who could say that, Uncle Ben." 
 
 "Maybe there are n't many, but there are n't 
 many like my Mary, either. She's been better 
 than another half of any voyage I ever made. 
 If she had n't, there 'd have been many a 
 hungry mouth beyond mine, when them who 
 is run out has to take to the komatik trail for 
 a meal in winter. Why, she found something 
 for every soul of twenty-odd folk what brought 
 up for a week at our house one time this spring, 
 and over fifty dogs ate what they left behind 
 them." 
 
 When I thought of his meager stock, it 
 sounded like the old story of the widow's cruse, 
 only here it was the woman who was the 
 "window from heaven." If I had to guess, I 
 should say that that widow of Sarepta was 
 
 78
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 from Labrador, for her heart, like those in 
 Labrador, was so much larger than her pocket. 
 
 Before sailing we slipped ashore, and the 
 merchant's agent kindly let me see the books, 
 which loom up like the one mentioned in 
 Revelation, to our imagination in Labrador. 
 It was all true — Uncle Ben had never once 
 failed to meet his score; and moreover, there 
 was a real chance to give Uncle Abe a hand. 
 Both families "tided out" that winter. 
 
 Ten years slipped away. We had sold our 
 little sailing hospital boat, and in the steamer 
 which replaced her were running into the same 
 harbor near Capelin Cove. Suddenly a flag 
 floating at half-mast on the hilltop caught my 
 eye. 
 
 "What's wrong ashore?" I shouted to a 
 group of men hauling a herring-net which lay 
 almost in the fairway. 
 
 "Uncle Abe's missus be gone. They're 
 burying her to-night." 
 
 An hour later, sorrowful enough at heart 
 for my poor friend, I found my way to the 
 little wooden church where Uncle Abe, for 
 many years, had been so familiar as perpetual 
 warden. Not wishing to intrude at so sad a 
 
 79
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 moment, I waited at the door, while the little 
 cortege wended its way up the hillside. 
 
 With bared head bowed low, Uncle Abe was 
 following the humble coffin, but as he passed 
 me, he stepped aside, and shook me so warmly 
 by the hand that he left me wondering at his 
 buoyant spirit in the face of such trouble. 
 
 The ceremony over, I ventured to call in at 
 the now deserted cottage, only to find Uncle 
 Abe home before me. The look of quiet joy in 
 his eyes amazed me. Something in his throat, 
 however, kept him from speaking, so when he 
 motioned me to the chair which his partner 
 had so long occupied, I waited for him to break 
 the silence. 
 
 "The Lord's ever been good to me," he be- 
 gan at last. "Ben helped us through that bad 
 winter you minds of, and now, she'll never 
 want, whatever happens. I never prayed 
 much 'bout particular things, Doctor, 'cept 
 that. But I used to be askin' every day that 
 she might be took first when the time come; 
 I could n't bear to think of her left to fend for 
 herself, and now the good Lord 's fixed it that 
 way." 
 
 A little later, when I stepped out of that 
 
 80
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 lonely cottage, I realized that I owed this man 
 a debt which money could not purchase — 
 the assurance that even we can contribute 
 something is one of the durable treasures of 
 life. 
 
 Ten more years had passed away. Uncle 
 Abe had joined his devoted partner shortly 
 after she left him, joyfully looking forward to 
 that reunion with her without whom life was a 
 blank to him. Our work had grown so much, 
 and its cares and problems made such increas- 
 ing demands on our time, that we had im- 
 perceptibly been losing touch with some of 
 our fishermen friends, that personal touch 
 which had been of such value to us. The vi- 
 tal channel through which one's life can best 
 bless others had been almost choked with anxi- 
 eties and "things." The advent of a wireless 
 telegraph station had not been altogether an 
 unmixed blessing, as it summoned one hither 
 and thither, often on trivial quests. Even as 
 our chains ran out through the hawse-pipes a 
 messenger had rowed out to us with an im- 
 perious summons to hurry south, and settle 
 some problems which the lateness of the season 
 appeared to render immediately important. 
 
 81
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 This summer our boilers had blown out, and 
 as we were unable to replace them for lack of the 
 necessary funds, we had been obliged to cruise 
 the coast in a small yawl. It had seemed an 
 unmitigated catastrophe, for we had been de- 
 layed again and again by the fitfulness of seas 
 and storms. But these very delays had given 
 us time once again to visit round the houses, 
 as in the old days. As we had flitted north, we 
 had been detained at Capelin Cove for a 
 couple of days, and had found the last of the 
 old brigade, Uncle Ben, on his beam-ends. A 
 severe stroke, twelve months previous, had 
 incapacitated him for any sort of work, and 
 now, as he put it, he lay "a helpless hulk," 
 dependent on his poor old wife and only 
 daughter to feed, clothe, and nurse him. As of 
 old, he was too independent to ask aid from 
 strangers, and his little stock had dwindled to 
 the vanishing point. His wife, still "better to 
 him than half a voyage," confessed that during 
 the winter just passed they had been short of 
 both fire and light. "Susie saws t' wood up 
 when t' neighbors brings it out for us; but 
 she is n't strong enough to go into the woods 
 and haul any herself," her mother explained. 
 
 82
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 "Ben has to be turned over a dozen times in 
 the night, Doctor, and when it's below zero 
 outside, and no fire or light, it do come a bit 
 hard on an old woman, night after night. No, 
 we have n't money any longer to reach to oil 
 or coal." 
 
 Yet the whole atmosphere of the tiny cottage 
 was infectiously cheerful. Uncle Ben lay beam- 
 ing in his bed like a full moon at harvest. I 
 was bidden to "sit right in," and share a cup 
 of tea, the absence of sugar or tinned milk 
 passing unnoticed in the genuine joy of the 
 occasion. 
 
 I Only as I rose to leave could I get a word in 
 private with the women as to the ways and 
 means for the future. "I suppose Uncle Ben's 
 in debt at last?" I ventured, feeling certain he 
 must have been obliged to abandon the old 
 rigid law he had laid down for himself. 
 
 "No, no, Doctor. He'll never allow us to 
 borrow a thing. You see he has no prospect of 
 paying back." 
 
 "I see. If you could afford it you would buy 
 some coal, oil, bedclothing, milk, flour, butter, 
 a jacket, and — Oh, never mind making a 
 list, now. I 'm short of time, and I must say 
 
 83
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 good-bye to Uncle Ben." Owing to his malady 
 his speech was unintelligible; but there are 
 other senses to come to one's aid, and the look 
 in his eyes was full of peace and joy as he 
 nodded "adieu." It sent me away grateful 
 that a man with "nothing," had yet so much 
 to give. 
 
 Mother Nature's arguments in Labrador are 
 just as imperious as are those of Father Time 
 with mortality, and three months later, once 
 more, together with the fishing fleets of 
 schooners, the birds, the beasts, and the fishes, 
 we were migrating south at her bidding. It 
 had been a troublesome summer. On some 
 sections of the northern coast the fishery had 
 been almost a blank, and we had left many 
 friends anxious for the winter. A number of 
 craft had been lost, in an unusually violent 
 storm. The expenses of our own work had been 
 heavy, and there were troubles in the outside 
 world which seemed to render the raising of 
 money for it particularly difficult. Telegraphic 
 news from the home far away was disturbing, 
 and we were being pressed to hasten on with 
 all speed. "We met nothing but head winds and 
 high seas, and now the violence of the waves 
 
 84
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 had forced us to run back on our course and 
 seek a temporary shelter. So we were glad 
 enough once more to drop our anchors in 
 Capelin Cove. 
 
 It was already late, indeed quite dark, before 
 we had secured mooring-ropes to the land, to 
 enable us to ride out the storm in safety. 
 Even now our little craft was rushing on the 
 seas at the ropes, threatening, every time she 
 came up short, to tear everything away with 
 the jerk. Having done our best to make her 
 safe, experience told us we had better get 
 ashore while we could, in case worse came to 
 the worst. It was much too dark to do any- 
 thing more, and, worried and anxious as we 
 were, patrolling the cliffs, with the rain beating 
 its way up under our oilskins, only helped to 
 add to the general sense of melancholy. So, 
 telling the men to find quarters for themselves, 
 but to keep watch, and call me if anything 
 happened, I began to wonder how best to kill 
 the hours which would hold no sleep for me. 
 Suddenly my eye caught the glint of a tiny 
 light on the hillside. It was Uncle Ben's cot- 
 tage, and like a flash I realized that there lay 
 the best source of comfort possible. Stumbling 
 
 85
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 up the slippery rocks, I was soon tapping at 
 the door of the familiar little cottage. 
 
 His good "wife bade me a hearty welcome, 
 though my dripping clothing and a howling 
 blast of icy wind and rain greeted the opened 
 door, tearing it from her feeble grasp. No 
 sooner was it safely secured, however, than in 
 her cheery way she led me to the old armchair 
 by the bedside, for night and day were all alike 
 to Uncle Ben. 
 
 I found the old man as usual, beaming all 
 over with smiles. Suddenly a most unusual 
 cloud spread over his features, as if he, of all 
 men, was seized with anxiety about something. 
 On returning to his bedside, I found him fum- 
 bling with his least useless hand in the bed- 
 clothing, and shortly he pushed over to me a 
 bundle of dollar-bills. Not realizing his mean- 
 ing, I counted them and handed them back to 
 him, telling him the amount. He at once 
 signaled that this was wrong. So his wife was 
 summoned to translate. It appeared that a 
 few "things," like coal and sugar, had arrived 
 for Uncle Ben while I was North; and he had 
 at once suspected me. 
 
 His daughter, as teacher in the village 
 
 86
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 school, was to receive forty dollars at the end 
 of November. Uncle Ben had induced her to 
 discount that sum, so that if I called in again 
 and proved to be the guilty party, he at least 
 need not be accessory to the crime of indis- 
 criminate charity. 
 
 Uncle Ben's smile was radiant again, and he 
 was trying to speak. "He says he don't want 
 to go home owing anything," his wife explained. 
 "He says you must have lots of others worse off 
 than he this year." 
 
 t. I protested that it was merely a case of the 
 windows of heaven being opened, and that the 
 Lord had as much right to feed Benjamin free, 
 as Elijah, or any other prophet. 
 
 Uncle Ben's physical eyes were dim, and I 
 had taken care that the tiny oil lamp should 
 throw no light on my features, but his soul 
 was not to be deceived, and at the bidding of 
 his eyes I submissively picked up the bills 
 and ostentatiously put them in my pocket. 
 The moments passed quickly as we talked of 
 the old days, of the good times we had had 
 together hunting, of Uncle Abe's discomfiture 
 the day my retriever stole all his pile of ducks 
 at Gunning Point and carried them to the 
 
 87
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 hospital. Then we spoke of the future, till the 
 old man grew as gay and blithesome, even in 
 that sorry physical environment, as a boy of 
 twenty. 
 
 There was a twinkle in Uncle Ben's eye when 
 at last I moved to go that I could not quite 
 understand. He seemed to be enjoying some 
 joke all to himself. "He is n't satisfied about 
 those bills, Doctor," his wife hastened to ex- 
 plain, as she saw my puzzled look. Hersays that 
 you have got to let him see you carry them 
 away. Guiltilv, I felt about for the bills, to 
 satisfy him that I had no evil intentions, and 
 was fortunate enough to find them under the 
 chair-cushion without his apparently detecting 
 me. 
 
 I often picture myself now, like a whipped 
 schoolboy, with my oilskins and seaboots 
 turned into Etons and polished shoes, shame- 
 facedly walking out of a master's study, parad- 
 ing the evidences of my guilt between my 
 fingers. 
 
 On the verge of a long Labrador winter, 
 from the threadbare cottage of a defenseless 
 woman and a dying man, I was carrying all 
 their material wealth. It seemed to stick to my 
 
 88
 
 The Gifts of Poverty 
 
 fingers, and the synonym " filthy lucre," for 
 the first time in Labrador seemed appropriate 
 to it. For I was again realizing that I came 
 away the debtor, and that this man who had 
 "nothing" had still so many things to offer 
 me. 
 
 Fortunately for my self-respect, there are 
 more ways than one to Rome, and before we 
 got our anchors for the home run, we had 
 found a subterfuge which enabled us to circum- 
 vent even our friend's scruples, and yet make 
 our message to him speak in those material 
 terms which alone we felt qualified to use when 
 dealing with Uncle Ben.
 
 PAINGO, TIIE LONELY ONE 
 
 Attataksuak was, though a young man, well 
 known all along that inarvelously beautiful 
 part of the northern Labrador coast where the 
 great Tongak, or Devil's, Mountains abut on 
 the Atlantic seaboard. There the eternal forces 
 of ice and ocean have cut away moraines and 
 foothills, till all along the coast for many miles 
 huge cliffs two thousand feet in height frown 
 at the approaching stranger, striking terror 
 into the heart of any one not accustomed to 
 find such deep water running home to the 
 land, so that only in places many miles apart 
 can bottom be found in water shallow enough 
 for a vessel to drop an anchor and find safety 
 in time of stress. 
 
 Such natural conditions produce, in those 
 who have to wrest a living from their envi- 
 ronment, similar characteristics, and among 
 a really courageous people Attataksuak had 
 already attained an enviable position as a 
 leader among his fellows. 
 
 Women are scarce in Labrador. There ap- 
 
 90
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 pears to be an unusual difficulty in, or possibly 
 less earnest attention paid to, the rearing of 
 female children, and it is by no means easy, 
 nay, by no means possible always, to secure 
 a wife. In spite of this fact, it was not at all 
 unusual or considered strange that the chief 
 men should annex more than one lady part- 
 ner. The Moravians, indeed, have a rule that 
 a widow shall not remarry for a fortnight — to 
 avoid the rush. Among the Eskimo, women 
 are most rightly esteemed as a valuable ad- 
 junct to everyday life, and the modern woman, 
 suffragette or otherwise, would always secure 
 all her rights in an Eskimo familv. These 
 rights they seldom or never refuse to accept, 
 and I have seen the women more than once do 
 all the rowing while the husband steered and 
 cheered them on; or carrying all the weights 
 when the almost continual peregrinations of 
 this nomadic race made it necessary for a 
 house to be moved, or other heavy manual 
 work to be done. The women have accorded 
 them many other privileges of developing 
 and occupying their energies, as the cook- 
 ing, clothes-making, skin-dressing; and indeed 
 everything except the actual hunting has long 
 
 91
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 ago been handed over to them by their gallant 
 and up-to-date husbands. 
 
 In the year 1890 Attataksuak found him- 
 self in a dilemma. He had arrived at that 
 period of life at which the Eskimo brave is 
 expected to take a wife, and set up for himself. 
 The keen delights of hunting and fishing, and 
 a good nature which made him loath to deprive 
 his parents of the support which he brought 
 into their igloo, had, indeed, led him to delay 
 that momentous event longer than most young 
 men — a fact which unfortunately reflected on 
 his acceptability among the ladies of his tribe. 
 Added to this, there had been of late some 
 little trouble in his own family circle as to the 
 use of certain boats and weapons he considered 
 his own. Moreover, there were other sons now 
 old enough to fill his place, and altogether 
 things had come to such a state that the natu- 
 ral desire in every man for a home of his own 
 was fiercely kindled, and his nature, like most 
 of his race, was such that the desire became a 
 passion over which he had no control. A wife 
 he must have, and that at once. 
 
 Fortunately for him, in the very best igloo 
 in Xakvak Bay was a most desirable daughter. 
 
 92
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 Oddly enough, her name, Paingo, signified 
 "the lonely one," a description which singu- 
 larly ill characterized her experiences up to 
 date. But in spite of many suitors she was 
 not yet irrevocably attached. Courtship with 
 Attataksuak was carried on with the same im- 
 petuosity as hunting — a policy which appar- 
 ently answers well in Eskimo-land. For in a 
 short while "the lonely one " had yielded to his 
 assaults and had become his affianced bride. 
 There is, as a rule, no further trouble "down 
 North." The parents are almost always will- 
 ing to part with their daughters, recognizing, 
 no doubt, the futility of withholding their 
 consent. Tribal customs, however, are often 
 stronger than force of arms, and, Attataksuak 
 being extremely persona grata, everything was 
 soon settled except the quid pro quo. 
 
 Eskimo women, endowed with such privi- 
 leges as I have suggested, are commercial as- 
 sets of no mean value, and the only question 
 which worried Attataksuak was what would 
 be demanded from him in return for Paingo. 
 
 Ooavigoo, his prospective mother-in-law, 
 from every point of view was a most desirable 
 family connection. For the almost universal 
 
 93
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 kindly good nature and hospitality of the 
 Eskimo was simply personified in her. On one 
 point only was she well known to take a possi- 
 bly unreasonable position. For some reason or 
 other, when her own time had come to leave 
 home, a high price had been demanded for her, 
 and even among an almost communistic people 
 she had never failed to impress upon succeed- 
 ing debutantes the social distinction which that 
 equivalent signified. 
 
 So when poor Attataksuak at last arrived at 
 the fateful question, he was not surprised to 
 hear old Ooavigoo embark on the oft-repeated 
 story. "For me in my day a full oomiavik was 
 paid. My father would not hear of his daugh- 
 ter leaving the igloo at a lower cost. Takollik 
 [Four-eyed Dog] was glad enough to get me 
 at that price. He must, indeed, ask a price for 
 our daughter which is comparable to what he 
 paid." 
 
 Attataksuak's worst fears were realized. 
 Even his courage received a shock, for he at 
 once recognized that it would mean his having 
 to return to his igloo and swallow the first set- 
 back he had ever received in his life. Such 
 experiences are far from trifling to a race who 
 
 94
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 never seem to us to grow out of boys and girls; 
 and Attataksuak, crestfallen and heartbroken, 
 spent the succeeding night on a lonely rock 
 buttress halfway up the steep cliffs, chafing 
 over his cruel misfortunes. 
 
 True, it was only five sealskins Takollik 
 was demanding, in order that he might finish 
 covering his kayak for the walrus-hunting in 
 the spring. But it might just as well have been 
 five hundred so far as Attataksuak was con- 
 cerned, for he had only recently given the last 
 of his own catch to his parents, and he knew 
 now he would never be able to get them back 
 again. 
 
 Eskimo do not commit suicide so readily as 
 Christians, though to poor Attataksuak the 
 world looked black enough to make him wish 
 he could incontinently depart for happier 
 hunting-grounds, and escape the humiliation 
 and disappointment which overhung him so 
 heavily. The dawn of a Labrador day, how- 
 ever, is a stimulant which no one can resist, 
 and it found Attataksuak breakfastless, with 
 a mind intent only on sealskins, overhauling 
 the only kayak still at his command. It was 
 one which had been laid aside by the family 
 
 95
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 before he had announced his intention of 
 leaving home, and therefore had definitely 
 made over almost all his possessions to the 
 brother who was to fill his place. Alas, that 
 kayak also was short of nearly half its cover- 
 ings, and would be useless without at least 
 three sealskins more. Eight sealskins he needed 
 now to get his wife! It seemed again as if 
 Paingo must remain "the lonely one," so far 
 as he was concerned, for many a day to come. 
 Then there was always the haunting fear that 
 some other suitor with many sealskins might 
 dispossess him. Indeed, he was already sus- 
 picious that there might be something of that 
 kind strengthening the old man Takollik in 
 withholding the hand of his sweetheart. For 
 he had secretly inspected the kayak for which 
 Takollik had stated he required five sealskins, 
 and was absolutely convinced that no more 
 than two were necessary. 
 
 It is easy to find friends when all the world 
 smiles on one, and Attataksuak had never yet 
 known the meaning of the cold shoulder. He 
 was astounded beyond measure when, after 
 explaining his real reason for asking the loan of 
 a kayak to his bosom friend, Pikulluk, that 
 
 96
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 brave had made many specious excuses why 
 he could not lend his. He was luckier, how- 
 ever, in a second venture, and with a kayak, 
 itself not in the best condition, but hired on 
 credit that he would contribute a sealskin for 
 its repair, he was soon far out with lance and 
 dart, hoping that yet he might somehow come 
 by the nine sealskins that he now knew he 
 must get before the fiords froze over, and the 
 seals left for the sunnier South, if first of all 
 he was to obtain his bride, then pay his debt, 
 and have a kayak of his own in a fit condition 
 to fend for her when he got her. 
 
 He had no luck the first day, and little better 
 the next, so it was no wonder that his sleep was 
 disturbed by visions of seals' tails vanishing 
 through holes in the ice, and that the lack of 
 his usual caution exercised in approaching his 
 quarry near enough to make sure of it with 
 his rudimentary weapons was time and again 
 his own undoing. He had not been forbidden 
 to visit the igloo of his loved one, and when he 
 ventured to spare a moment from the rigors of 
 the chase, he was able to go up and get a word 
 of cheer from the lonely maiden, who showed 
 as much preference for him — or for his repu- 
 
 97
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 tation — as it was customary or natural for 
 any Eskimo girl to possess or evince. More- 
 over, he was able to learn a fact of which he 
 was already suspicious. He had a rival, a very 
 serious one. His very friend Pikulluk, to whom 
 he had so sedulously and secretly explained 
 the reason for his stern necessity for a kayak, 
 was himself an ardent suitor for the maiden of 
 his choice. 
 
 Attataksuak's pluck, however, did not desert 
 him, and day after day, and almost night after 
 night, till the slob ice made, and the " sish " 
 actually cut holes through the skin covering 
 of his borrowed kayak, he unflaggingly main- 
 tained his quest. He had actually secured three 
 fine skins, and hope loomed large in his opti- 
 mistic soul, when the owner of the borrowed 
 boat, noticing the damage accruing to his prop- 
 erty from the contact with the fast-making ice, 
 and seeing also a very visionary chance of his 
 ever getting even the hire agreed on, much less 
 the half-dozen extra skins which would soon be 
 needed to make good the wear and tear, called 
 a halt. 
 
 Now the ice was in. No more skins were 
 obtainable in that district for some months at 
 
 98
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 least, and poor Attataksuak was fairly on his 
 beam-ends. He was forced to go and confess it 
 to his fiancee and plead for time, which he had 
 very little hope of ever having extended to him. 
 
 Every Eskimo in the community seemed 
 now also to know of his difficulty. Takollik 
 was obdurate. He had spoken, and that was 
 the end to parleying. It was five skins, or no 
 wife-giving for him. For his views on the ad- 
 vantages of early marriage were not consonant 
 with the maxims of a former President. There 
 was no mercy either with old Ooavigoo. If, for 
 her benefit, Attataksuak were to relate the 
 whole gamut of his woes, he knew he had 
 nothing to expect of that elderly party but a 
 reiteration of the old, old story; which was 
 enough to make any warrior of spirit unpre- 
 meditatedly transfix her own skin with that 
 very seal dart which was now his inseparable 
 companion. 
 
 It was Paingo herself who at last came to the 
 rescue, and persuaded him to pocket his con- 
 stitutional pride and to adopt the last resort 
 of the destitute — go about and beg sealskins 
 from the neighbors, to whom formerly he 
 would have despised to admit that they were 
 
 99
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 capable of killing a seal, anyhow, when he 
 was about. Swallowing his pride, he at last 
 yielded to her importunity, and started off on 
 his sorry quest. It was galling enough to have 
 to ask, but to be refused at igloo after igloo, 
 and tubik after tubik, was more than he could 
 bear. For to him the many specious excuses 
 with which he was greeted at every attempt 
 were just so many dagger-thrusts into his very 
 soul. When he learned later that his now hated 
 rival had adopted the methods of more civ- 
 ilized countries, and literallv cornered the 
 market on the few remaining skins which had 
 not already been exchanged at the Hudson's 
 Bay Company post, he felt once more like 
 climbing the cliff as he had done the first 
 night, and ending his misery by jumping off, 
 the "hari-kari" of Eskimo-land. 
 
 The last straw seemed now to have been 
 piled on his already straining back. The only 
 remaining question was whether it would not 
 be permissible to make one last visit to the 
 Takollik igloo, and bid a fond farewell to the 
 object of his devotions. This time his good 
 genius favored him, and with a sad and now 
 hopeless heart he once more wended his way 
 
 100
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 thither. And now the phenomenon not un- 
 known in civilization proved to be as universal 
 as the human race. The very circumstances 
 which defeated and foiled the man had only 
 served to set the woman's wits a- working — 
 and once more "the lonely one" came to the 
 rescue. Where had all the sealskins gone? 
 Pikulluk she knew was not the man ordinarily 
 to store away his acquisitions. Surely he must 
 have taken them to that great fathomless 
 repository of all skins, to the storehouse of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company. Well she knew that 
 once a skin passed those acquisitive portals, 
 the laws of the great Company, like those of 
 the Medes and Persians, could not be broken, 
 and none could be sold by the agent, whether 
 he wished to do so or not. Nay, if the local 
 factor himself shot or trapped a skin, it was 
 well known that even that skin was not his 
 to do with as he wished. It was no sooner 
 stretched and dried than it became the irre- 
 deemable property of the great white men over 
 the waters — or rather, of the great white 
 Queen herself, so Paingo thought. 
 
 Yet she knew the agent was a kindly man. 
 Had not he and his wife many times visited 
 
 101
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 their igloo? Had he not, more than once, 
 brought food and medicine to their family 
 when they were ill? And, indeed, had he not, 
 on one occasion, himself borne his large boat, 
 lashed upon two sledges, over twenty miles 
 across the ice and snow of those terrible hills 
 in winter, that he might risk his own life en- 
 deavoring to save a poor Eskimo who had 
 been carried off to sea on the running ice? 
 
 Already Attataksuak had swallowed his 
 pride once. "Would he not be willing to go yet 
 one step farther? It was the only possible 
 chance which remained untried. Should they 
 not go hand in hand, and, explaining all cruel 
 circumstances of the case, throw themselves 
 entirely on the great white man's mercy? 
 
 Long and earnestly that fateful night the 
 lovers discussed and rediscussed every possi- 
 ble and probable outcome of such a step, and 
 already the dawning of the final day had come 
 before Attataksuak had once more vielded to 
 the importunities of the maiden, which were 
 now nothing less than abject entreaties ; and 
 had agreed that, although he would not per- 
 mit her to risk the criticism resulting from a 
 possible refusal, he would himself face the 
 
 102
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 hardest test that he had ever felt called upon 
 to meet, and go alone and appeal to the Com- 
 pany's agent to break the unbreakable laws. 
 
 Though with the diffidence of his race he 
 would face single-handed a bull walrus in 
 the roughest sea, with only his skin boat and 
 hand dart, it was an unstrung and panic- 
 stricken man who might have been seen that 
 morning hesitatingly waiting, half-hidden be- 
 hind the well-known storehouse. He realized, 
 however, that thinking and hoping there was 
 of little avail, and at last the requisite courage 
 came, and he boldly faced the implacable 
 person who was to decide his fate. 
 
 Once inside the door, that courage again 
 evaporated, and, when asked in the most 
 kindly manner what it was that had brought 
 him there, he could not force himself to ask for 
 more than the price of some trifling commodity 
 which he caught sight of on a store shelf. 
 Fortunately the agent was a man of no little 
 perspicacity, and, though never intruding upon 
 the love affairs of the people among whom he 
 lived, he at once noticed the unusual sadness 
 in a man whom he had always known as the 
 sunniest of his sunny customers. 
 
 103
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 "What's the matter [ochautclaunga], Atta- 
 taksuak ? It is n't duffel you came after, I 
 know. If there is anything on your mind that 
 I can help you with [kailligit], come right in, 
 and let me know what your trouble is. I'm 
 only too glad to do anything I can to serve 
 
 you." 
 
 It was n't the correct language, — which the 
 agent had learned to speak when he was a little 
 boy, — but the genuine sympathy expressed in 
 his speech and the genial smile, which served 
 to unlock the floodgates of even a stolid 
 Eskimo's emotions; and Attataksuak, in a 
 very brief space of time, had laid bare his in- 
 most secrets, but even then without one word 
 of suggestion that the agent should come to 
 his rescue. It was too much to expect that the 
 windows of heaven should open and shower 
 ready-dressed sealskins on an insignificant 
 "Innuk." The little things of life are often 
 enough really the large ones. A sealskin is 
 worth at Nakvak about sixty cents. After all, 
 the price of "the lonely one" represented only 
 about one dollar and eighty cents of our 
 money. Yet to Attataksuak it was more than 
 a royal ransom. 
 
 104
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 Lindsey as a judge, Worcester as a clergy- 
 man, Cabot as a doctor, are impressing on the 
 world that it is not physical but spiritual levers 
 which stir deepest the hearts of men and affect 
 most materially the forces which make men 
 into men. Experience has taught us that this 
 truth is also a universal one. The annual visit 
 of the great Company's steamer, collecting her 
 load of furs for the March sales in England, 
 had as usual been made just before the ice 
 closed in. Everything had been packed and 
 sent off; not a pelt remained from the last 
 year's hunt. Nor had the new collection be- 
 gun. Not a single skin was in the store. Pi- 
 kulluk had been farther-sighted than Paingo 
 had anticipated, and was holding tight to 
 every skin he had gathered. 
 
 It was, indeed, an anxious time for Atta- 
 taksuak, when, after the explanation of the 
 dilemma, the kindly agent told him to wait 
 while he went inside and consulted his better 
 half — a proceeding which, judging from his 
 own experience, Attataksuak had no reason 
 to discredit. After a short absence, the good 
 fellow returned, bearing in his arms a large 
 bundle, which he proceeded to unwrap on the 
 
 105
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 floor of the store. As they unrolled, in his usual 
 methodical manner he counted them aloud 
 — one, two, three, four, five, six; just like the 
 momentous seconds before the start of some 
 exciting race. 
 
 It was positively all there were, and well 
 Attataksuak knew they were the private store 
 which the agent had reserved for his own cloth- 
 ing and hoots during the winter. If only he 
 owned them, he could put two to cqmplete the 
 quota to pay for Paingo, one for his friend of 
 the borrowed kayak, and three to put his own 
 boat into hunting order. It may well be 
 imagined, therefore, that his heart almost kept 
 time to the counting, and sometimes very 
 nearly stood still, as he waited to hear the 
 wife's decision. 
 
 With that genial smile which has helped to 
 win this man so firm a place in the confidence 
 and love of his people, the agent looked up, and 
 then, laying his hand on Attataksuak's shoul- 
 der, said simply, "My wife bids me let you 
 have them all [aippara ochamat]." 
 
 It is not in the power of my pen to describe 
 the extent of the reaction in poor Attataksuak's 
 heart. Eskimo do not cry. This Eskimo could 
 
 106
 
 Paingo, the Lonely One 
 
 not speak. He just lifted the roll in silence, 
 and walked out of the store, almost as dazed 
 as if the factor had struck him on the head with 
 a heavy maul. 
 
 Nor, oddly enough, did he for many days 
 return to the store to try and give expression 
 to his gratitude. To that the passing years 
 have affixed a seal which needed no conven- 
 tional emphasis. But a week later, as the agent 
 was sitting at breakfast, he looked out of his 
 little window and saw two persons coming up 
 over the already hard-trodden snow pathway 
 leading to his door. They were only an 
 Eskimo hunter, radiant with joy, and an 
 Eskimo girl, her face alight with that expres- 
 sion which it is the supreme delight of a real 
 man to have kindled in the heart of his 
 "neighbor." 
 
 They had no money to pay; they made no 
 loud-sounding promises for the future. As I 
 have said, the Innuit are a people of few words. 
 But as they bade good-bye, using the Eskimo 
 word, acksnnai, which, being interpreted, is 
 "Be ye both strong," my friend assures me 
 that the hand-grip meant even then more to 
 him than the temporary inconvenience of a 
 
 107
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 shortage of protection on his long winter 
 rounds, which he realized the sacrifice of his 
 stock of skins must cost him before Attatak- 
 suak and his bride would have a chance of 
 repaying him in material coin.
 
 THE NORTHERN CHIEF 
 
 The approach to Katatallik in North Labra- 
 dor is guarded by gigantic cliffs which tower 
 away up into the sky and suggest the great 
 gateway of a Titan's fortress. The fiord runs 
 in nearly straight for twenty-five miles, with 
 just one deep, lateral cut, called the "Tallik." 
 This branches off at right angles between two 
 huge precipices, which are said to be four 
 thousand feet high. The dark water is practi- 
 cally bottomless, while the entrance to this 
 Giant's Causeway is guarded by three large 
 reefs lying across its mouth out in the open 
 bay, by the icebergs and growling ice-floes 
 which haunt it all the year, and by the im- 
 penetrable fog which almost perpetually hangs 
 over the cliffs. 
 
 When my old friend George Davis was sent 
 there thirty years ago by the Hudson's Bay 
 Company, to open a trading-post for them, the 
 Eskimo were all about in that region; and for 
 many years after Davis lived there with his 
 
 109
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 wife, far north of any of the white English 
 settlers of the Labrador eoast. 
 
 Davis's wife died many years ago, and his 
 three children have all gone away into the 
 service of the same great Hudson's Bay Com- 
 pany, carrying on the ideals of their father for 
 faithfulness to their employers and kindly good- 
 fellowship with the little people among whom 
 their lives are spent. Davis himself has come 
 South to spend the remaining years of his life 
 nearer to his own folk, hut his heart still re- 
 mains away "down North," where his wife lies 
 buried. He is the cheeriest of companions, full 
 of reminiscences of the old life, with loyalty to 
 the Northland and its people simply tingling 
 in his heart and overflowing in every other 
 word he says. 
 
 One evening we had the good fortune to 
 have him drop in for a chat. As usual, the talk 
 reverted to the days at Katatallik. _ • 
 
 "Doctor," he began, "did I ever tell you 
 about Kaiachuouk?" 
 
 "No," I hazarded, for though all Eskimo 
 names are nearly equally unpronounceable, 
 even if I had heard of this one before, I felt 
 sure the story would bear retelling. 
 
 110
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 «« 
 
 Well, no one ever need tell me you have to 
 look beyond the Eskimo if you want to find 
 some of the best traits a man can have. 
 Kaiachuouk was one of the finest sorts you 
 would ever find. When I went to Katatallik, 
 thirty-odd years ago, I was just a raw lad, and 
 I remember thinking that I should like to meet 
 this man, after the story some of the Mora- 
 vians told me about him, when I stopped at 
 one of their stations on the way down." 
 
 "I remember now," said I; "you have told 
 me about him. He was the little chap who 
 stood and guarded the entrance to the bear's 
 cave for hours, while his father ran home for 
 his gun." 
 
 'Yes, that's so, but that's not what I was 
 going to tell you," rejoined my friend, not to 
 be cheated out of relating the exploits of the 
 local hero. 
 
 'That's right, don't you be put off. I've 
 never heard it anyway," chimed in my wife. 
 Thus fortified, George went on. 
 
 'Well, you know the Moravian records of 
 temperatures are about the best ever. They ' ve 
 kept them ever since they came on the Coast, 
 a hundred and thirty years ago, and they 
 
 111
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 report that the winter of 18 — was the severest 
 known. What made it all the worse was that 
 the Eskimo had had a mighty poor season with 
 cod and trout; and then, to cap the climax, if 
 the deer did n't go inland, instead of coming 
 out to the landwash after fawning. Next 
 thing they knew the seal-fishery was cut off, 
 because the sea froze solid, and the seals had 
 to move South pretty lively. I can mind" — 
 Davis occasionally lapses into the vernacular 
 of the Coast when he becomes ruminative, — 
 "yes, that was the year when even the Nasco- 
 pee Indians had to come out of the country 
 because they were starving." 
 
 1 You 're right, Davis. It was that year that 
 I can remember, steaming up the fiord, seeing 
 the bones of forty of them lying on the beach. 
 It looked like the Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death." 
 
 "At that time Kaiachuouk was not much 
 more than a lad, but he showed then he was 
 worth twenty Semijaks as a chief. Things 
 were coming to a pretty pass. Poor old Kav- 
 anga and his family were all found lying dead 
 at the bottom of Suksulliuk Bay. To-day you 
 can see the bones of Tellegauiak, Kaiachuouk's 
 
 112
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 uncle, lying just above the landwash at Nak- 
 sauliuk. It was enough to make any one lose 
 hope. But Kaiachuouk was made of better 
 stuff than that. He could hardly stand, and he 
 looked like such a skeleton that his best friend 
 would n't have known him, but one bitter 
 morning he started out alone just to see if there 
 was one last chance of getting food for his 
 people. I can remember, as if it was yesterday, 
 how Mr. Riecman (you know him, the Mora- 
 vian missionary) told me that Kaiachuouk 
 had n't had a thing to eat for forty-eight hours, 
 but he just kept on munching at his skin 
 gloves. I guess it must have been to keep him 
 from thinking about killing himself, for those 
 gloves were pretty well chewed out already. 
 
 "When he got to the ice-edge, the first 
 thing he saw was a seal's blow-hole. He was so 
 afraid of moving that he tied his legs together, 
 and there he sat, hour after hour, and chewed 
 away at those skin mittens and held on to his 
 harpoon. Some time after noon, — must have 
 been two o'clock or so, — he heard the scratch- 
 ing of the seal coming back. He only stuck his 
 head up above the ice one second, but that was 
 time enough for Kaiachuouk. He drove his 
 
 113
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 harpoon right through to his throat. He 
 dragged that seal back himself; then he boiled 
 it, so they should n't lose any of the nourish- 
 ment, and he divided up the whole lot equally 
 among those poor creatures. 
 
 "The next day another young fellow felt 
 strong enough to go out to the ice with Kaia- 
 chuouk. You know the rocks there at Nak- 
 sauliuk. They are so exposed to the wind that 
 the snow never lies on them. Sure enough, 
 when those two came along what should they 
 see but an old square-flipper, lying out and 
 sunning himself. Well, if the beast had been 
 a few yards nearer, Kaiachuouk would have 
 risked a shot at him with his harpoon and line, 
 but as it was he did n't dare. It was just as 
 well for the whole lot of them then that the lad 
 knew about seals and their ways. He lay out in 
 full view and called softly, till he caught the 
 seal's attention. Then he began to shift about, 
 and changed his call from the ' poo-yee ' that 
 the creatures use to salute each other to as 
 near an imitation as he could make of a female 
 in distress. The old bull got mighty uneasy at 
 that, and reared up and exposed his whole 
 neck and chest." 
 
 114
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 " What a shot! " I interrupted. "You don't 
 mean to say that the man had to let that 
 goby?" 
 
 "Yes, he did. He had to lie and watch that 
 seal glide off into the water, and disappear in 
 the swell that was rolling up on to the cliffs. 
 The splash had told him that this was a fright- 
 ened dive and that the old square-flipper was 
 approaching under water. He knew just what 
 curious beasts seals are, and he felt sure that in 
 a minute he would stick his head out of the 
 water, to see what all the fuss was about. The 
 next second, up came the huge, hairless head, 
 and the walrus-tusk on the end of Kaiachu- 
 ouk's spear went straight home to the animal's 
 throat. But one thing he had n't been able to 
 estimate, and that was the strength of the 
 creature. His line was not long enough for him 
 to take a hitch round a rock with it, but it was 
 a matter of life and death to him and his 
 people that he should get that seal. He just 
 took the near end and tied it round his own 
 body. Though he was braced for the shock, he 
 was whipped off his feet at the first rush of the 
 beast." 
 
 "I should have thought he would have been 
 
 115
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 beaten to pieces against the rocks on the land- 
 wash?" I hazarded. 
 
 " He very nearly was, for he did n't have any 
 idea of what happened for the next few min- 
 utes. He felt as if he was being cut in half, as 
 the monster leaped into the air. But fortu- 
 nately for the lad, a throat wound is soon fatal, 
 and about as soon as he was able to get up, he 
 knew he had rolling in the surf at the end of 
 his line that which meant so much to fhem all. 
 
 "It must have been after this that his people 
 decided he was the best man for their chief, for 
 always after that, they used to refer really im- 
 portant matters to him, and not to Semijak.' , 
 
 The Hudson's Bay Company agent at 
 Katatallik post, before Davis went there, had 
 had many troubles with his people, and his 
 policy of submission to their encroachments, 
 instead of dealing firmly with them, had only 
 succeeded in making them bolder in their de- 
 mands. So it was with an anxious mind that 
 my friend looked forward to the first long 
 winter in a place without any possibility of 
 support from other white men. 
 
 He did not have long to wait for trouble. 
 Brought up with decided views as to the keep- 
 
 116
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 ing of Sunday, combined with a determination 
 not to be imposed upon, and speaking the 
 language fluently, he had no difficulty in mak- 
 ing it perfectly clear to the local Innuit that he 
 did not intend to open the store on the first 
 day of the week. He was not a little surprised, 
 therefore, the very next Sunday morning, to 
 see a number of persons gathering about the 
 door, carrying bundles of furs for trade, evi- 
 dently intending that he should notice them. 
 
 It was a dirty morning, and very unpleasant 
 standing outside, but, as he told me, he said to 
 himself, "It's their funeral, so I'll pretend 
 not to notice them, and just let them go on 
 enjoying themselves." They pretty soon got 
 tired of that, however, and the tramp of feet 
 and hum of voices informed the agent, even 
 before they knocked at the door of his house, 
 that they, at least, had no compunction about 
 breaking the day of rest. Led by Semijak, a 
 number of men forced themselves into Davis's 
 little kitchen. 
 
 "What do j'ou want [Sunamih peumavit]?" 
 he demanded sternly. 
 
 "We want to trade [Neuvingaomavunga]." 
 
 "I told you I do not trade on Sundays." 
 
 117
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 "But the store was always open every day. 
 All days are alike to the Innuit. You must 
 open the store." 
 
 Argument, explanation, and kindness proved 
 to be not without avail, and most of the men, 
 who had no real desire to trade, anyhow, went 
 oil", not in the least resentful. Only Semijak, 
 who with one or two others had carried loaded 
 guns, seemed bent on mischief. Taking matters 
 into his own hands, the agent moved, and made 
 as if he would go to the store, the others pre- 
 ceding him. He had, however, no sooner 
 reached the porch and closed the inner door 
 behind him than he announced to the chief 
 that he might just as well go home, as he had 
 decided not to go a step farther. Without a 
 moment's warning, Semijak fired off both 
 barrels of his big gun. The charge went through 
 the roof, making a large hole, w r hile the noise of 
 the explosion in that small enclosure was per- 
 fectly deafening. Fortunately, my friend was 
 prepared, and, summoning all his strength, he 
 struck the unsuspecting chief full in the face, 
 and sent him sprawling on the floor, and then 
 promptly proceeded to kick him under the 
 settle. Meantime his friends unconcernedly 
 
 118
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 went on their way, without even trying to find 
 out what had happened. 
 
 When Semijak emerged, he was consider- 
 ably less offensive, and he took himself off 
 quietly, except for a few muttered threats as 
 to the nature of his plans for the next day. 
 
 Though nothing occurred then, the young 
 agent was on the watch for weeks. Semijak 
 and the two other recalcitrants, however, 
 never turned up, and if they did trade, they 
 managed it by proxy. 
 
 When the winter mail of the Company 
 arrived, and it became essential for Davis to 
 close up everything while he covered a round 
 of four hundred miles with his dogs, he left the 
 post with considerable apprehension. Youth 
 and open air, however, and the physical perils 
 such as inevitably attend a long dog trip over 
 the high barren precipices of the Far North are 
 almost unfailing remedies for mental worries. 
 So it was not until three weeks later, when the 
 good dogs had again struggled to the top of the 
 craggy pass over the Tongak Mountains, and 
 he was able to make out the dark line where 
 the weird fissure of Katatallik lay, that his 
 trouble came back to him, and he realized a 
 
 119
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 feeling of anxiety as to what might await him 
 on his arrival home. 
 
 It was a beautiful winter's evening, quiet 
 and almost awe-inspiring as the coming-on of 
 the night seems ever to be in the Northland, 
 with the deep dark-blue shadows in the lonely 
 valleys, the air so clear that one can almost feel 
 it tingle, and the early-setting sun turning the 
 tops of the distant hills into glittering crimson. 
 Yet Davis's feeling was one almost of exaspera- 
 tion that the daylight should have gone so 
 soon and made it necessary for him to camp 
 for another night, as he thought it unwise to 
 arrive at nightfall. 
 
 "Look sharp there, Paingo," he called out 
 to his clever little leader, as early next morn- 
 ing they shot away down the mighty ravine. 
 Davis lay flat out on the komatik, using his 
 own feet for brakes; the runners shrieked as 
 they grated over a bare rock in the middle of 
 the descent, and the dogs, clever beasts that 
 they are, leaped out of the path of the rush- 
 ing sledge, and scuttled beside it down to the 
 bottom of the Tallik. 
 
 This was the last precipice to descend on the 
 homeward journey, so in spite of the dozen 
 
 120
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 miles which had yet remained when he made 
 his little snow house the night before, the very 
 first streak of dawn found the agent examining 
 the locks and shutters which he had so care- 
 fully barred up before leaving. 
 
 There could be no doubt about it: the 
 building had been entered during his absence, 
 though the windows had been all boarded up 
 again, and the heavy hasp, which had been un- 
 screwed from the door-post, had been carefully 
 replaced. At any rate, there would be a roof 
 to cover his head, and food enough remaining 
 to enable him to journey south to the next 
 post. In case of accidents he always kept a 
 month's supply in his underground cellar. 
 
 As for the Innuit, there was n't a sign of 
 them. All the same, he made sure that they 
 had n't laid a trap for him. He was glad he 
 had arrived before sunrise and taken them by 
 surprise, though there was not a track on the 
 snow nor a sign of old marks to indicate the 
 direction the marauders had taken in their 
 flight. Not a tree, not a sparrow to keep 
 him company, with a temperature of thirty 
 below zero, in the half-darkness before the 
 dawn, which was all the more gloomy and 
 
 121
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 desolate at the bottom of the ravine into which 
 the winter sun so seldom penetrates! It was 
 the loneliest home-coming he had ever known. 
 Whatever happened, however, he must make 
 a fire and boil his kettle. His hunger was 
 imperious. 
 
 Suddenly his eye fell on his faithful dogs. 
 Poor beasts, his extra camp on the Tallik had 
 left them now two days without food, and 
 after the hard work and bitter cold they were 
 looking to him for a long-deserved breakfast. 
 Their mute appeal went right to his heart. 
 They should have a hot meal, and that before 
 anything else. In them, at least, he had true 
 and loving friends that had proved their 
 staunch loyalty in many a close call. The dogs, 
 wistfully watching him, seemed to read at 
 once the resolution in his eyes. Pingasut, a 
 perfectly splendid black and white specimen of 
 his race, stood up and put his paws with ease 
 on my friend's shoulders and licked his face; 
 while Paingo, his clever little leader, rubbed 
 her soft, furry side against his leg. The others 
 gave that peculiarly pathetic cry, which, 
 without exception, they never make except for 
 old friends. They seemed to realize that he 
 
 122
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 was in trouble, and to feel that they were 
 the only living creatures to comfort their 
 master. 
 
 There is nothing like love in the world, even 
 if it is only a dog's love. Davis was master of 
 himself and the situation again in a moment. 
 After all, it was a good thing there were no 
 Innuit around. He would have plenty of time 
 to prepare himself. He had good guns, was the 
 best shot in the Bay; and, anyway, he felt that 
 a determined man had little to fear. Then he 
 remembered that this was the time for his 
 people to be on their walrus-grounds. That 
 must explain the absence of some of them, for 
 he would n't believe that they were all mixed 
 up in the trouble. 
 
 After breakfast he went to estimate his 
 losses. No doubt about it, a considerable 
 amount of goods had been removed. He never 
 had had any experience with thieves before, 
 and he was struck with the thoughtfulness 
 with which they had left things in such good 
 order. The loss would be heavy, and would 
 greatly injure his prestige with the Company. 
 
 Trading in the Company's stores is not done 
 with a cash medium. It is less expensive to use 
 
 123
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 symbols which bear do interest, and, if lost, 
 have do intrinsic value So bone counters arc 
 usually employed, unless the still older and 
 more remunerative plan has managed t<> sur- 
 vive of piling up the skins on the floor till 
 
 they reach the level of the object desired. In 
 
 this case, if happened t<> be counters; and a 
 horrible sensation swept over Davii he 
 
 remembered that he had left the counter-bos 
 
 in its place in his desk. It was lurked' hut what 
 
 was that to desperate men. He rushed t«» his 
 desk and dragged out the little box. Yes, it had 
 been opened. Those counters stood f<>r the 
 pi. of the great Company's absolute re- 
 
 liability: perhaps it was the thieves' refine* 
 incut of cruelty t<» force him day after day 
 t<» go on practically robbing himself and his 
 masters by paying oul every hit of Block in 
 the little store, in order to redeem them. 
 
 The lock of the little DOI was ru>!y, and 
 
 Davis's hand trembled bo that 1 nld 
 
 hardly jerk it open. Inside was a rude scrap 
 of paper lying on the top of the counters, which 
 
 were, he was instantly certain, untouched. lie 
 raised the hit of paper to the window, trying to 
 decipher the runie characters by the light of
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 the sun which was just now beginning to il- 
 luminate the valley; and a greal wave of joy 
 swept over him as he recognized the Bign 
 
 manual of the Northern chief, Kaiachuouk. 
 
 At first he was puzzled as to what it all 
 could mean. Then like a Hash the solution 
 leaped into his mind. The chief had not come 
 in for his winter's trade before the agent had 
 left, and Kaiachuouk must have arrived just 
 after his own departure with the mails. As he 
 was unable to wait, he had helped himself to 
 what he needed, and intended to bring his furs 
 on his next visit. 
 
 Just as Davis started to take a careful 
 account of what was missing, he stumbled over 
 a carefully tied-up package, which was stowed 
 in a box and placed under the counter. He 
 dragged it out into the center of the floor, 
 certain that it was not a box he could have 
 overlooked. When he finally got the bundle 
 untied, he was dumbfounded to find the num- 
 ber of skins of bear, otter, ermine, and foxes 
 which it contained. Kaiachuouk, unwilling to 
 be even temporarily in debt, had left at least 
 twice the value of the goods he had taken. 
 
 It was not until many days later, when his 
 
 125
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 own [oca! Innuit came In to trade, and gave 
 
 him the message the Northern chief had left, 
 thai he learned the exacl details. Meantime, 
 he was able to work on hi> <>w d fur-path w itfa a 
 light heart, leaving the store unprotected. 
 Kaiachuouk's party had arrived the very 
 
 dav thai he left. The whole storv of the tmnhle 
 
 • ■ 
 
 with Semijak had been referred to him, and he 
 
 had spoken in no uncertain accents. Semijak 
 
 had been what we call "hauled/ 1 and cau- 
 tioned to behave himself in future as became 
 one of "the people. 91 No one was allowed to 
 
 enter the store but Kaiachnoiik and two of his 
 
 best Northern men. 
 
 kaiaelnionk, though at that time a com- 
 paratively young man himself, was happy in 
 
 the possession of no [ess than four wives, whom 
 
 his prowess had induced to trust to his ability 
 
 to provide for them. Thus it was that his 
 arrival Dearly twelve months after the incident 
 at the Katatallik Post, as he steered his lar_'e 
 
 oomiavik, or flat-bottomed skin boat, up to 
 the station, while his lusty better four-fifths 
 cheerily worked at the sweeps with his eldest 
 
 sons, was almost a reL'al procession. In spite 
 of all the miles of open sea that he had to 
 
 ISO
 
 The Northern Chief 
 
 cover, as a rule he brought all his possessions 
 in his boat, and topped the whole with his dog- 
 team. 
 
 His first question on entering the store was, 
 " I low much do I owe you for the goods I took 
 last year [AkdeksakaJeunga tegulauiangut]?" 
 
 "You owe me nothing [AkeleksakangilatiJe]" 
 said the agent. 'I owe you two hundred dol- 
 lars [PeiUeksakakputit]." 
 
 "I am glad [Kugana]," rejoined Kaiachu- 
 ouk. % I did not wish to seem to cheat the 
 while man." 
 
 It is six years since I last visited Katatallik. 
 The sky was black with an ominous bank of 
 cloud as we anchored, but suddenly a bril- 
 liant ray of sunlight shot through a rift and 
 illuminated the spot where the old post had 
 stood for so many years. For Katatallik is 
 deserted now, the buildings pulled down, and 
 the station moved to a better trading district. 
 
 That night as we lay under the forbidding 
 shadow of the great precipice, the Northern 
 lights flashed across the heavens like gleaming 
 banners — banners which always remind me of 
 the standards of the gods entering Valhalla. 
 
 127
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 The little people of the North, however, call 
 them 'the spirits of the dead at play." I 
 remembered that many years ago the spirit 
 of Kaiachuouk went to join those hosts, but 
 the memory of his honor and bravery and 
 kindly affection still lives among his people. 
 What matter that he was "only an Eskimo"?
 
 UNCLE 'LIGE'S STORY 
 
 To me it seemed the worst blizzard of the 
 winter. I had not thought it worth while even 
 to look out of doors. The shivering of the very 
 house, under the wind-pressure of the furious 
 blasts which swept like successive avalanches 
 over the ice-polished surface of the snow- 
 covered hills, made one rejoice that there 
 seemed no immediate need even to try to put 
 one's nose outside. 
 
 There had been a "mild" the day before, 
 and the unusual occurrence of a heavy fall of 
 rain in the middle of winter. Now Jack Frost 
 had leaped out on the intruder like a hungry 
 sledge dog at something he can eat, and, hav- 
 ing congealed him with terror, had covered 
 everything with a glorious ice coating which 
 promised to our dogs five miles an hour in 
 time, and nine tenths of the weight of a load 
 less in hauling. As soon as one could get foot- 
 hold enough to stem the wind, like birds on the 
 wing we looked to start on our Northern trip. 
 But so fierce was the storm that, although there 
 could be no loose snow to drift, one could not 
 
 129
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 see five yards from the window, against which 
 innumerable pieces of tiny ice were cannonad- 
 ing as the wind tore them loose and hurled 
 them with such energy that the glass seemed 
 a mighty poor protection against their on- 
 slaught. 
 
 Naturally, therefore, one was not a little 
 surprised to hear announced, "Two men to 
 see you, Doctor." Yet real men, indeed, they 
 looked, when, on their removing their simple 
 but effective canvas "dickeys," I got a view 
 of their keen tanned faces — the ideal of per- 
 fectly healthy young manhood. 
 
 While the maid hammered out and hung up 
 their ice-caked clothing, I had to give them 
 time to clear enough ice from their faces to 
 enable them to open their mouths and eyes; 
 for from eyebrows to chin every hair had a 
 crystal candle hanging to it. 
 
 " Where are you from, and whatever brought 
 you out on a day like this?" I asked. 
 
 "From Wild Bight. Uncle 'Lige sent us to 
 get youse, Doctor, if youse can bring it to 
 bear anvhow." 
 
 "I guessed you were from the South, for you 
 could have only run before this gale.' 
 
 130 
 
 >*
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 "That's just what us did, and had to crawl 
 down the hills or we'd have broken our necks." 
 And then after a pause, " Is you going to come, 
 Doctor?" 
 
 Our men are utilitarians of few words, and 
 after all that was what they had come to find 
 out. For my part I knew Skipper 'Lige well 
 enough to be certain he was no squealer. If he 
 had sent these men a hundred miles to fetch a 
 doctor, something serious must be the matter. 
 Besides that, he was a landmark which, for 
 many reasons, the Coast could ill afford to lose. 
 
 My mind wasted no time debating the issue. 
 
 "All right: I'll come. Sit down and get 
 some food. AYe'll go as soon as the weather 
 breaks." 
 
 It was not altogether the weather which 
 made it a full four days before we reached AYild 
 Bight. News that a komatik had gone down 
 for "t' doctor" for Uncle 'Lige spread like 
 grapevine news in the South in wartime, and 
 petitions "just to come in for a minute and 
 see the baby," or to tell them "whether Aunt 
 Jane was doing right by this sufferer and that," 
 intercepted us all along the road, and cut up 
 the journey in spite of our haste. 
 
 131
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 When at last we tied up our dogs on the top 
 of the precipice which overhangs the approach 
 by land to Wild Bight, and, partly by the aid 
 of trees as brakes, had swung ourselves down 
 into the cove itself, it was only our faith in the 
 toughness of Uncle 'Lige's well-seasoned tim- 
 bers that gave us any hope that we should be 
 in time to render any real service. 
 
 But as fortune would have it, we were still 
 shaking the snow off our clothing and cracking 
 the icicles from our faces, when the cheery voice 
 of this old sea-warrior from his bunk overhead 
 bade us a hearty welcome. At first one hardly 
 knew whether to feel annoyed that we had 
 come so far to no purpose or to be glad that 
 there was, as it turned out, little to be done 
 but leave Uncle 'Lige's constitution, unhandi- 
 capped by past indulgences common to civili- 
 zation, to work out its own salvation. 
 
 He evidently guessed what had been passing 
 in my mind, and was fretting over it. For he 
 suddenly interrupted my meditations by call- 
 ing out: "I was on a dead lee shore, and no mis- 
 take, when I sent the boys for youse, Doctor. 
 But I suppose I clawed off somehow. I shall 
 weather her this time, shan't I, Doctor?' 1 
 
 132
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 Fortunately I found no difficulty in assuring 
 him that I was glad I had come; for my exami- 
 nation of him had somewhat reconciled me to 
 having made the effort. It had, indeed, been 
 a close call, and to avoid the aftermath there 
 were quite a few things which could be done. 
 My good humor was augmented, moreover, 
 by the pleasurable aroma which was rising up 
 through the floor, suggesting that preparations 
 were in progress to satisfy a hunger which was 
 honestly come by. 
 
 There was only one other house in Wild 
 Bight; there is only room in its small and 
 almost unprotected cleft in the cliffs for a 
 couple of boats to find anchor. So Uncle 'Lige 
 and his five lads practically had the place to 
 themselves. The deep water at the foot of the 
 perpendicular cliffs brought the fish almost to 
 their door, and as a result they always did well. 
 Even now they had nearly ten tons of codfish 
 under salt in their stages, left over and above 
 all that they had dried and sold before win- 
 ter overtook them ; besides all the many tierce 
 of spring salmon, which last year had com- 
 manded "a lusty price." So all the perquisites 
 of comfort were easily within his reach, and his 
 
 133
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 clean, bright little home showed how well what 
 some call "a mere fisherman" knows how to 
 use such returns for his labor as fate allows 
 him. 
 
 When the time arrived to bid my hospitable 
 old friend farewell, I told him to run no more 
 such risks, and remarked that, in spite even 
 of his adventurous life, this must surely have 
 been his closest call to leave us. 
 
 "No, no, Doctor," he answered. "Some 
 years agone I had liked to have saved you any 
 trouble wi' me." 
 
 "How was that, Uncle 'Lige?" 
 
 "Well, we lived out on the Seal Islands in 
 them days. Them's a dozen miles or so out to 
 sea, as you knows, and all winter long there be 
 no chance to get any word from t' land. When 
 the sea freezes over, come November, you may 
 say they be's cut off altogether till June. 
 There was only five families there them days, 
 but with the islands bein' out among the seal- 
 patches, us did well with the young fat and 
 skins us got in spring. 
 
 "Skipper Jim went South with his voyage 
 that fall for t' first time, and us had a better 
 chance to get a fair price, and he brought us 
 
 134
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 our winter's diet for cash. 'T was a wonderful 
 sight cheaper in them days." 
 
 I could see that the old man was in for a 
 yarn, so I sat down on the foot of his bed to 
 hear it out. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "that winter Skipper 
 Jim brought back a young maid, about seven- 
 teen years, from a place somewhere in Shark's 
 Bay, called Peace Haven. Seems her father 
 had done bad wi' t' fish, and there were a big 
 crowd of them to feed home, and she were t' 
 eldest maid, so she had to go away first to help 
 out. Uncle Jim took her for nurse-girl — as he'd 
 lost his own missus — and a good little nurse- 
 maid she were. Us all called her Mamie. 
 
 "Skipper Jim's was a good house, and I 
 won't say they was n't kind to her. At first she 
 were happy as a lark, singin' all about, but 
 come New Year, somehow, she started frettin'. 
 She got that quiet and silent you would never 
 'a' know'd she was worritin'. Skipper Jim, he 
 give her a good name for workin', but she never 
 went nowhere after Old Christmas Day, 'cept 
 now and again she'd come over and sit, with- 
 out sayin' ne'er a word, on that very old settle 
 over there, while them young men, who was 
 
 135
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 just boys them days, played around. My 
 missus used to give her a word o' cheer now and 
 again, and try and do little things for her to 
 hearten her up a bit. 
 
 "But it did n't seem to do no good. She had 
 no bodily sickness far as we knew, but she just 
 pined away that quick that by St. Patrick's 
 Day, it was most certain she would n't live to 
 see open water. We was always minded that 
 there was more in it than us could see — for 
 whenever she did say a word, it always was 
 that us was to be sure to send her back to 
 Peace Haven. No one never got t' secret from 
 her, Doctor, but I learned years after it was as 
 us had feared. One of our harbor lads had first 
 won her heart and then betrayed her — and 
 then left her for another girl. No, Doctor, I 
 never told no one who 't was, and I think I 
 never will now. 
 
 "It were a lovely spring t' year, and afore t' 
 ice opened the poor maid passed away. I minds 
 well she sent for the missus to go over, and the 
 last words she said were the same ones, 'You 
 '11 promise to send me back to father's?' It 
 so happened it were more than a month at 
 least afore us could launch, so us laid her into 
 
 136
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 two coffins filled with good sawdust. It seemed 
 as if t' ice would never go t' year, and us that 
 anxious to go gettin' longers and lumber for t* 
 fishery. But the missus had given her word 
 for it, so at t' last moment, as us were starting 
 in for t' mainland, I 'lowed us 'd take the maid 
 along with us for some schooner to pick her up 
 and take her South later. 
 
 "It were only a fishing-jack, t' old Day- 
 spring, us had, and the double coffin filled her 
 up amidships so you could n't get forward and 
 back. It were blowin' a nice breeze when us 
 left, but us had t' sheets belayed, and I was for- 
 ward myself on the cuddy. We were bowling 
 along, I suppose a good eight knots, and I had 
 almost dozed off myself, when without a sign 
 o' warning the tail end of a cyclone or some 
 kind of a heavy squall struck us, and she were 
 upside down and us in the water in a moment. 
 Ne 'er a one of us could swim, and when I came 
 up I grabbed hold o' the first thing I could and 
 found it were t' coffin. I slid her along under 
 me, and managed at last to lie out on her. She 
 kept me well afloat that way. Archie Jarvis — 
 he were a married man — had been steerin' 
 when she went over, and was clingin' to the 
 
 137
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 stern end of the keel, half on the boat's bottom. 
 Will Hawkins, he was holdin' on the foremast, 
 which had just got loose, and the waves were 
 goin' over he every now and again. I was to 
 windward o' the boat, but gradually drivin' 
 nearer on the wind and sea. While I had all I 
 could do to hold on, I could see that the Day- 
 spring was settlin' by the stern, and Arch was 
 crawlin' forward to keep his head above water. 
 It was bitter cold, for there were still lots of ice 
 about, and as no vessel was in sight and we 
 some eight miles off t' land, there seemed little 
 enough hope of our bein' picked up. When at 
 last the coffin bumped into the old Dayspring, 
 I found she were standin' straight up on her 
 end. Her little bowsprit was stickin' right out 
 o' water, and she only kept afloat by the air in 
 her fore cuddy. 
 
 "As I caught hold of the bowsprit, I called to 
 Arch to see if he were all right. But I could see 
 that we must get Will in towards the bow, or 
 he 'd be drowned with the water goin' over him. 
 I got un at last, but odd enough he did n't seem 
 to want to be saved. I kept sayin', 'Keep up 
 heart, Will, boy. T' Lord can save we if He 
 likes.' But all he would say was, 'Good-bye, 
 
 138
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 'Lige, I'm goin', I knows. I know'd it when we 
 started.' lie did n't seem even to shut his 
 mouth as the combers came along over us, and 
 though we had him held on for I reckon three 
 or four hours, he were stark dead long before 
 that, and then he got washed out of our hands 
 at last and sank like a stone. 
 
 "The Dayspring neither turned over nor 
 sunk down any more. Youse see t' mainmast 
 and sail were still standin', and served her for 
 a sea-anchor. Us could keep only just our 
 heads and shoulders out o' water. Twice a lop 
 hit the coffin I was lyin' on, and slung me off it, 
 but I managed to climb back on her again, 
 though, bein' light, she drove quite fast to 
 leeward, while the poor Dayspring scarcely 
 moved. 
 
 "I was minded several times to bide on the 
 coffin and let her go. But t' wind were along 
 shore, and it just meant being drowned alone, 
 while, myself, I had all the time a mistrust we 
 would be saved. I don't know why it were: 
 whether it was 'cos I knew t' missus and my 
 lads needed me, or whether it was 'cos us were 
 tryin' to do what t' maid what caused all the 
 trouble had asked. Anyhow, I kept tellin' 
 
 139
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 Arch to keep his courage up, as I 'lowed help 
 was comin'. It seemed a strange thing to me, 
 Doctor," he broke off, "when they told me 
 after on the Island that Will had said just 
 before us left that he know'd he 'd never come 
 back no more alive." 
 
 "Faith does a lot of things we don't count 
 on," I answered, thinking of many of my past 
 patients, whose marvelous faith in the almost 
 magical power of medicines had been no small 
 factor in winning them back to health, and life 
 itself. 
 
 "Well, seein' Will was gone, Doctor, I just 
 got hold o' the mainsprit, which was still 
 tangled with the sail, and somehow got my 
 neck scarf fast to it, and stood her up along- 
 side the bowsprit. It must have been six 
 hours since we capsized, for the sun was passed 
 high. I 
 
 "All of a sudden I heard a shout, and there, 
 sure enough, was Charlie Sampson's bully, 
 luffin' to leeward of us. To tell the truth, 
 Doctor, I was nigh gone myself when they 
 lugged me out of t' water, but it were an hour 
 or more afore we were sure there were any life 
 left in Arch. Charlie and his lads had been in 
 
 140
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 to the mainland rindin', and were beatin' out 
 to the Islands. They had just got round t' 
 heads, and in five minutes more would have 
 shot into t' harbor, when a squall off the cliff 
 took both their sails away, and they had 
 nothin' to do but put her before t' wind for the 
 mainland, as there were no chance of reachin' 
 to windward with the oars. 
 
 "The very moment they lifted me off the 
 Dayspring, she rose right up, the air all rushed 
 out of the cuddy, and with a dive she went 
 straight to the bottom. Seems it was only our 
 weight had kept her steady. The coffin had 
 gone long before, drifting to the south'ard with 
 the wind and current. 
 
 "Many a day after that we talked of the 
 little maid, and how sorry we was we could n't 
 have done for her what we promised, and what 
 she'd set her heart on so much. But it were 
 nigh a hundred and fifty miles straight over 
 the open sea to Peace Haven, and us had done 
 our best, and that were all there could be to it. 
 If wishin' could have done it, she'd 'a' surely 
 gone there by herself, and I think us wished it 
 nearly as much as she. 
 
 : And then, Doctor, there came the wonder- 
 
 141 
 
 a
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 ful part of all the trouble. Us had gone over to 
 the mainland to set our cod nets on the back 
 cove of Black Duck Bay about a month later, 
 when a Shark's Bay schooner came in and 
 anchored right off our berth. She threw out her 
 boat and her lads came ashore to cut a bit o' 
 firewood. Esau here and 'Lige went out to 
 tliein to get the news, and by'meby, when they 
 gets to varum', one of the schooner boys up and 
 says: 'A queer thing happened to we, no doubt, 
 this trip. Us had n't left home an hour, and 
 were just three miles outside t' heads, when V 
 watch saw somethin' black bobbin' up and 
 down. It looked all the more black as there 
 were a lol of slob about. Well, Bill here, he 
 called t' skipper, and he sent un aloft to make 
 it out if he could. He could n't make nothin' 
 of it, save it were a long black box, so the old 
 man put t' helm down to go round and make it 
 out. Sure enough, it were a black box. Mighty 
 like a coffin it seemed to we, and us scarcely 
 know'd what to make of it. But there, you 
 never can tell what some folks hides things in, 
 so the skipper hove the schooner in the wind 
 alongside, while us hoisted t' box aboard. She 
 was that like a coffin, us did n't at first like to 
 
 142
 
 Uncle 'Lige's Story 
 
 open her. But us were that curious to know 
 what was in her that at last us got leave from 
 t' skipper to start t' cover — and then, sure 
 enough, inside were another strong box. That 
 made us think it was all the more as if queer 
 doin's had been going on. So it were n't long 
 before us had the rest of the screws took out — 
 and it was a coffin all right, and there were 
 nought but a little maid inside. Then one of 
 our lads, he gave a kind of shout, and said he 
 know'd for sure who it was. She were Mamie 
 Sparks from Peace Haven, or he was n't in his 
 right senses. 
 
 "'When the skipper heard that lie didn't 
 know what to do, for us was racing North to 
 get a good fishing-berth, and every hour meant 
 money to all of us. But Joe, he were that sure 
 he know'd t' maid that at last the skipper 
 promised to run for Peace Haven, and as us 
 had t' wind free, it were n't long afore us had 
 t' hook down in t' harbor. 
 
 "'It did n't take no time to' get to Skipper 
 Ned's house, but all he know'd was that his 
 maid had gone North in t' fall, and he were as 
 sure's certain it could n't be her. But by'meby 
 he came off aboard, and the way he carried on 
 
 143
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 when he found it were really Mamie were eruel 
 enough. 1 
 
 'It weren't for some weeks after," Uncle 
 'Lige went on, "that the poor fellow learned 
 how it all happened, and then he did n't carry 
 on so about it, for though it did look like had 
 (loin's, it were much better when he knew the 
 whole truth. 
 
 "So that were the Dearest call, Doctor, I ever 
 had, and tlic Dearest I hopes to have, till I 
 hears t' last call. Don't you think. Doctor, 
 there's more in wishing than what us knows of? 
 You sees the maid got home at last. "
 
 WHITE FOX 
 
 Uncle Ike Wilson was a born rover. In his 
 early days he ran away from his father's farm 
 in England, being possessed by that inborn 
 desire of so many English lads to go to sea. It 
 was the same spirit whieh led Captain Cook to 
 leave a comfortable position in a grocer's busi- 
 ness for the fo'c's'le of a collier schooner at 
 Whitby, and even in the days of press-gangs 
 and continual war, to set out on the adven- 
 turous life which lias made him famous for 
 all ages. When Major George Cartwright, the 
 great hunter and trapper of Labrador, and also 
 its historian, was retired from the army as be- 
 ing too old for service, he wrote: "London is no 
 place for a man like me. So, hearing that bears 
 and deer were plentiful in Newfoundland, I 
 , felt so strong an inclination to go there that 
 I accompanied my brother on his next voy- 
 age to that country." There he fell in with 
 the Indians and Eskimo, and nothing would 
 satisfv him but to remain in that then wild 
 land, for which he always afterwards professed 
 so warm a love. Such a spirit, the desire to get 
 
 145
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 out of the ordinary nil of life, the contempt for 
 prosaic routine even though it broughl ease and 
 plenty, and the determination to "do Bome- 
 t aing," carried Uncle Ike. over sixty yean b 
 first as genera] scrub on a small, square-ri ged 
 "windjammer/' and later almost all over the 
 world. At length, as many another has done 
 before him, he grew tired of tin* fo'c's'le, l>ut 
 nowhere did he find a place where it seemed 
 possible t<> obtain a position on the'land with 
 sufficient freedom to Buit him. 
 
 Finally, having -;t i 1< m 1 from Spain with a 
 cargo of salt for Labrador, whence his captain 
 intended to bring fish for the West Indies, he 
 thought he had found the poor man's parad 
 Here was all the land he wanted, free t<> all 
 
 COmen. Here were fish in the - - a and river-, 
 
 birds and bear and deer for food and fur-; no 
 
 taxes to pay, iP' al inequalities to remind 
 him of bis humble origin. Here men seemed 
 free and equal, Bimple-minded, hospitable, 
 while their livelihood depended <>nly on their 
 own resourcefulness, and not on the whims and 
 
 Oscillations of the labor market. So it hap- 
 pened that when the time came for the ship to 
 I, (Jncle Ike was nowhere to he found, as he 
 
 148
 
 White Fox 
 
 had taken care to remove himself far into the 
 forest, where searching for him would be like 
 hunt ing a needle in a haystack. 
 
 I do not propose to follow his fortunes here. 
 
 In due time he married, though somewhal late 
 in life, and had one son, In order to have 
 '■plenty of room," such as he needed for his 
 
 trapping, he had made his winter home far up 
 
 beyond the bead of one of the many lone inlets 
 of the Coast; and as he was exceedingly clever 
 
 at all kinds of woodcraft ami animal lore, lie 
 
 had done remarkably well. His house, isolated 
 though it was, had become proverbial for its 
 generous hospitality. The numerous komatik 
 
 teams which "cruise" the CoasI in winter — 
 dogs being our only power for traction — never 
 failed to make a little extra detour, sure of a 
 td meal ami a warm corner under Uncle 
 Ike's hospitable roof. 
 
 It is not remarkable, therefore, as his wife 
 was the daughter of anold settler on theCoa>t, 
 that their son Jim >hould possess more than 
 the usual quota of those natural abilities that 
 go to make a valuable scout, and which we, 
 brought up in civilization, have so often to 
 acquire by painful and tedious work. 
 
 147
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 At the time of this story, Jim w;i> Btill only 
 fourteen years old. His hardy physical life 
 ha<l toughened his muscles, ;m<l already inured 
 him to endure circumstances under which b 
 "softy" would be about a> useful as a piece of 
 blotting-paper. Prom bis sailor father he had 
 learned those practical handicrafts which help 
 out so invaluably in a tight corner. It was do 
 trouble to him to hit the same spot twice with 
 hi> axe, or tie a knot that would neither come 
 loos-- nor jam. 
 
 It was the very middle of winter. The snow 
 
 lay deep mi the ground, and everything, every- 
 where, except the t<>p> of the trees, was buried 
 out of Bight. On the barrens, wind-swept and 
 
 hard-packed, the [east mark <>n the surface 
 
 might l»e visible for days; hut in the woods the 
 drift only left Light snow many feet deep, where 
 any mark, or even an object, became buried in 
 
 a few minute^. On the l<>m r lakes the same 
 
 thing happens. Many times I have myself 
 
 crossed them on a visit to a pat ient . and labori- 
 ously tramped ahead of the do^s through the 
 deep drift on my snowshoes, so as to make 
 a path for them, which at least would not be 
 entirely obliterated; saying to myself all the 
 
 143
 
 White Fox 
 
 while, "We will anyhow have a good road 
 back." Yet, on returning, not a vestige of the 
 trail could be discerned and the same old 
 process must be undertaken all over again. 
 
 (hi the days between his long rounds over 
 his fur-path, it was Uncle Ike's custom to go 
 
 into the woods and "spell" out such firewood 
 as was necessary to keep the stove going for 
 his old wife. < 
 
 This incident occurred on just one of these 
 
 Occasions. The old man had started at the first 
 
 streak of daw n, as was hi- invariable habit, and 
 had taken with him his team of six as stout 
 dogs as ever helped to haul a sledge over ice. 
 It was a glorious morning, and Jim had been 
 
 allowed to go oil' on his little fur-round of 
 some half-dozen traps — all his own. The 
 price of whatever pelts he got was placed in his 
 special stocking, that lie might learn the value 
 of things when he came to have a rifle and 
 hunting-kit of his own. 
 
 Sundown is early in a Labrador winter, and 
 Jim did not get home till so late that, with all 
 his knowledge of the country, he was glad 
 enough to see the twinkle of the cottage light 
 through the darkness, as he sturdily trudged 
 
 149
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 along the last mile homeward. For it had 
 "turned nasty," the wind had shifted to the 
 
 east, and it was snowing hard, which added 
 
 greatly to the darkness of the evening. But 
 that night Jim aoticed neither weariness nor 
 difficulty, aor did he feel the extra weight of 
 the burden be was carrying <»n his hack. Two 
 days previously he had found a queer, gouged- 
 looking mark on the snow Dear the " cat tie," or 
 running water, on the river that crossed his 
 fur-path, and it was not Decessary for him to 
 look twice to sec that it was the rub of a big 
 otter. To-day success bad crowned his skill, 
 and he was dragging home on his back the first 
 
 otter he had ever caught all by himself. What 
 a surprise it would he for mother and father! 
 What a good t [me would he his by the crackling 
 fire, as the storm raged outside and he sat 
 toasting his legs and telling of his adventures! 
 A- he expected, a truly rapturous greeting 
 awaited him, when at length he entered the 
 door, additionally demons! rative, he thought at 
 first, because of his large otter. Soon he found, 
 however, it was because mother had been anx- 
 ious, as neither of 'her men" had returned, 
 and now she had one wanderer anyhow. 
 
 150
 
 White Fox 
 
 Aunt Rachel was no longer a strong woman 
 physically. Of late a weakness, strange alto- 
 gether to her younger days, had forced her un- 
 willingly to recognize that only by much rest- 
 ing between "spells" could she keep pace even 
 with the few domestic duties which her small 
 house made necessary. 
 
 "Get your things, Jim, and we'll have tea 
 on the table by the time dad comes. You can 
 cut up a bit more wood, and we will have an 
 extra large fire to-night. Dad '11 be cold after 
 his long day's work." 
 
 "Right you are, mother," said the tired Jim, 
 forgetting his aching bones in the excitement 
 of the occasion. He was outside in a minute, 
 axe in hand, looking for another log or two. 
 
 Xow another hour had passed by. Still no 
 sign of Uncle Ike. Everything stood ready, and 
 the kettle was just puffing out greetings from 
 the hob. 
 
 "Better get tea, Jim. Dad may be kept by 
 something. But he's always home before now." 
 
 The wind was howling outside, and Aunt 
 Rachel's face was paler than usual in spite of 
 the firelight. Something must be wrong with 
 Ike. The house was miles away from any 
 
 151
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 neighbor, and it was utterly impossible on a 
 night like this to seek help that way. Yet if 
 anything had happened to her husband, he 
 would certainly be dead before daybreak. 
 
 " What \s that, Jim?" she suddenly cried out. 
 "Surely that's a dog outside." Jim, whose 
 ears had imt been SO spry jlisl for the moment , 
 owing to hi- being in the midsl of his long- 
 delayed supper, listened a second. "That's 
 While Fox's whine, mother. I'd know it any- 
 where." And, jumping up, he ran to the door, 
 as he supposed, to welcome his father. Hut no 
 father answered his call from the darkness, only 
 a great snow-covered furry animal that leaped 
 up and kissed his face. "Down, Fox, down. 
 Where'sdad?" But for answer all he got was a 
 whine, and what he took to be an invitation to 
 follow her. White Fox being the trusted leader 
 of their team for three year- now. 
 
 "Mother, it's White Fox all right. She's got 
 no harness on. I'll go and sec if the others are 
 back too." 
 
 A moment later, and Jim was in from the 
 dog pen. "They're all home but one, mother. 
 There's Jess and Snowball and Spry and 
 "Watch, all of them with their harnesses on, 
 
 U,2
 
 White Fox 
 
 and their traces chewed through. Father must 
 be in the woods somewhere. But where 's 
 Curly, and how did they come to leave her 
 behind?" 
 
 The anxiety was becoming almost too much 
 for the poor woman to bear. Xo help could be 
 got from outside, and she could n't travel fifty 
 yards in that snow herself, with the ther- 
 mometer at twenty below zero. Jim was tired 
 and young, ever so young to go out into the 
 dark and storm, and be of any use. She had 
 him safe, anyhow. Surely it would only make 
 matters worse to send him out again. 
 
 Jim had fed the dogs, and by all the laws of 
 dogdom they should now be curled up and fast 
 asleep in their cozy little house. But he had 
 hardly closed the door when a scratching and 
 the familiar whine outside said plainly that 
 White Fox was not satisfied, and wanted some- 
 thing which they had failed to give her. 
 
 Again Jim went to the doorway. The bitter 
 blast and snow drove into the porch and 
 through it into the house. But the great woolly 
 figure of the dog showed in the light which 
 streamed from the cottage. As Jim looked into 
 the eyes of almost his only real chum, he could 
 
 153
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 plainly understand her meaning, reading the 
 message as well as if it were written. 
 
 "She wants me to go out with her, mother," 
 
 he called from the porch. "What shall I do? 
 I'm almost sure she has left father somewhere, 
 and wants me to go and help her fetch him 
 mine. 
 
 "Shut the door and come in, Jim. I don't 
 think I dare let yon go. You and your father 
 are all I have on earth, and if yon got lost, too, 
 
 I should never live through it." 
 
 There was a momentary silence, as the boy, 
 with thoughtfulness beyond his years, stood 
 listening. 
 
 Then once again came the familiar whine, 
 ringing through the darkness of the night. 
 White Fox had not given up her attempt to 
 convey her me because she had met with 
 
 two rebuffs. She knew well enough that the 
 team would follow her if only she could per- 
 suade Jim to answer her call. 
 
 Still absolute silence reigned in the cottage. 
 Neither mother nor son spoke. Then again 
 came the long, piteous wail of the dog, and it 
 seemed to the alert ears of the woman that now 
 there was a tinge of disappointment in it. 
 
 154
 
 White Fox 
 
 It was she who broke the silence. "You 
 must go, Jim. There is no help for it. That call 
 would haunt me to my dying day if I left 
 undone anything that could be done. God 
 knows best, and it is He surely, and not White 
 Fox who is calling. Get on your things, boy. 
 Take your father's lantern, and God help you. 
 I shan't have long to wait anyhow, without 
 you two, if you never come back again." 
 
 Jim was already half into his little oilskin 
 suit, his storm-cap, skin mitts, and moccasins, 
 while his mother packed up a few little things 
 which might be necessary in case an accident 
 had happened. Indeed, he was already moving 
 to the door when she called him hack again. 
 "Jim," she said, "kiss me once more. It may 
 be the last time I'll ever see you alive. And 
 then we'll just kneel down and ask God, who 
 loves yon better than I can, to be with you to- 
 night and bring you safe back with father." 
 It was no set prayer that welled up from the 
 soul of the poor woman; whether, indeed, it 
 even took the form of words she has long since 
 forgotten. All she does know is that it was the 
 first time she had ever prayed "in public." All 
 that Jim remembers is that for some minutes 
 
 155
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 he of all people actually cried, though lie did n't 
 exactly know why. 
 
 At las! the door had closed behind him, and, 
 marvel of marvels, Aunt Rachel, weary and 
 exhausted, fell asleep in her chair, and in the 
 ( rod-given rest was a hie to economize her store 
 of strength to meet the ordeal she had yet to go 
 through. 
 
 Jim meanwhile had found a spare" harness, 
 and put it on Wli i t <^* Fox, tying the trace 
 around his waist. Then he called out the rest of 
 the team, tying their traces together and hitch- 
 ing them on his arm. Since lie had no idea of 
 where he was going, there was only one thing 
 he could do, and thai was to follow the dog. So, 
 closing his eyes, as seeing was out of the ques- 
 tion, and they were safer anyhow that way 
 from twigs and branches after they got among 
 the woods, he ploughed his way as rapidly as he 
 could, following all the time the tugging of 
 White Fox's trace by keeping his right hand on 
 the line. 
 
 Fortunately for all concerned, the spot of 
 woods which Uncle Ike had selected for his 
 winter's cutting was less than two miles from 
 the house, and of that one mile was over a 
 
 156
 
 White Fox 
 
 frozen lake, where, although the full blast of 
 the storm made the cold more bitter and harder 
 to stem, yet the drift was packed or altogether 
 cleared away by the violence of the wind. 
 Through the drogues of woods in the narrow 
 gulches the young snow was so soft that the 
 boy had almost to swim, and but for the tug, 
 tug, of White Fox's trace he could never for an 
 instant have kept his direction, or even made 
 progress. But White Fox scaled nearly a hun- 
 dred pounds, and stood twenty-seven inches to 
 the shoulder, and was actually heavier than 
 the boy himself; while every ounce of her was 
 made up of bone and iron muscles. 
 
 One other element told strongly in the boy's 
 favor and enabled him to accomplish what 
 must otherwise have been an almost impossi- 
 ble task. It never entered his head that the dog 
 could be mistaken. He trusted White Fox as 
 implicitly as he would his mother. Of course 
 his chum knew better than any one else on 
 earth what to do, and if he could only last out 
 and do his part, he knew well it was a mere 
 piece of child's play to the dog. 
 
 Once and again, as he floundered through a 
 deeper drift than usual, he became completely 
 
 157
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 stalled, and it seemed impossible ever to ex- 
 tricate himself. I [e was nearly played out, and 
 
 the cold and dark made the temptation to rc-t 
 jusl for a minute almost irresistible. The ex- 
 citement of the first hour had enabled him to 
 call into play at once all his reserve strength, 
 
 hut now he felt he musl sleep — only a moment , 
 
 of course, hut jusl a minute's nap. In those 
 
 deep drifts, not even White Fox could have 
 
 hauled so heavy a Load. All she could do was 
 to employ her powers of suggestion. She re- 
 turned to her lagging master, and kissed his 
 
 face, incidentally running to and fro and hard- 
 ening a path for him on which he could crawl 
 out of the bog of snow. 
 
 Once more they ploughed along on their 
 way. Scarcely a sound was audible; just the 
 moaning of the storm, and now and again a 
 rare whimper or snarl from one of the dogs as 
 one of the others got in his road. Indeed, the 
 silence and darkness were almost visible. Sud- 
 denly, quite close at hand, a dog's call re- 
 sounded from the bush, and White Fox leaped 
 in the direction with such violence as to fling 
 the hoy clean off his feet, rolling him over once 
 more in the deep snow. 
 
 1j8
 
 White Fox 
 
 But that he no longer noticed: it was Curly 's 
 sharp bark. Picking himself up, and bracing 
 himself for the effort, Jim shouted with all his 
 might. "Father! Father! Father!" But the 
 only answer was a howl in unison from all the 
 dogs, and the soughing of the storm through 
 the firs and spruces of the grove they had en- 
 tered. 
 
 Only for a moment, however, was there any 
 doubt what to do; and again it was White Fox 
 who brought the solution. For she hauled off 
 into the bush at the side of the path, and began 
 burrowing down into the snow. Jim followed, 
 not without a sinking feeling at heart, and in 
 less than a minute was kneeling over the 
 prostrate body of his father. 
 
 "Father! Father! It's me — Jim." But no 
 answer still. Yes, he was breathing, breathing 
 loudly. And warm, too, where Curly had 
 evidently been cuddled up against him. There 
 was only one chance. Could he find the wood 
 sledge? For if so he might be able to save his 
 father's life. 
 
 Curly was bubbling over with joy, and 
 probably connecting Jim's arrival with the 
 chance for some supper after all. She was 
 
 159
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 dancing all about, entangling her trace around 
 Jim's legs, and positively forcing him to notice 
 it. Seizing it with his hands, he followed it 
 along. It seemed never to end, though really 
 it was only thirty feet long, but it was en- 
 tangled again and again in the bushes, and 
 over it all the deep snow had fallen. He had 
 guessed that the dog was still fast to the 
 sledge, and so he found it at last, the,sharp up- 
 turned prow of the komatik jabbing right into 
 his hand from the drift as he groped after it in 
 the dark. 
 
 It must have taken another full hour to dig 
 the sledge out, and haul it alongside Uncle Ike, 
 to drag the limp and helpless body upon it, and 
 then so to fix it with lashings that his father 
 could not fall off on the journey home. 
 
 A team of dogs going home on a night of 
 that kind is almost as irresistible as a traction 
 engine, and Jim's only trouble was to keep the 
 sledge right side up. That he somehow suc- 
 ceeded is actually certain, for in the early 
 hours of the morning, Aunt Rachel was roused 
 by the sound of the dogs outside, and, positively 
 rushing into the night, she fell on the pittful 
 burden they had brought to her little cottage. 
 
 160
 
 White Fox 
 
 It was now her chance to call on her reserve 
 strength, and that she certainly must have 
 done. Buoyed up by his success, Jim's endur- 
 ance did not fail him either, and, guided by 
 the intuitive knowledge of a good housewife, 
 the two were soon chafing Uncle Ike's half- 
 frozen limbs, as he lay before a gorgeous fire, 
 rolled in warm Hudson's Bay "four-point'* 
 blankets. 
 
 It was not long before a little hot nourish- 
 ment was successfully forced between his lips, 
 and he was able to open his eyes and give the 
 anxious watchers a smile of recognition. 
 
 Uncle Ike was never quite able to remember 
 how it all happened. He had reached the 
 clump, tied up his team, and was cutting away, 
 when suddenly he felt odd, dropped his axe, 
 and could no longer stand upright. However, 
 he had sufficient mental power left to reason 
 that his only chance lay in reaching his sledge. 
 The dogs instantly answered his call, but they 
 were all fast to the komatik, and were unable 
 to reach him, as that was purposely tied to a 
 stump. That was all he knew, except that one 
 dog at last got near him as he lay, and cud- 
 dling up close to him, kept him from freezing 
 
 161
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 to death. The others in their excitement had 
 chewed through their traces or, as White Fox 
 had done, succeeded in slipping their harnesses. 
 
 Then White Fox must have hurried home for 
 help, and the other dogs that could get loose 
 had followed her — as they were always used 
 to do. 
 
 No, White Fox was not forgotten. Jim says 
 before he lay down to sleep he could not help 
 just going out to give < lurly some supper, and 
 a few extra little titbits for White Fox, but he 
 found her as peacefully asleep as if she had 
 done nothing unusual. She slept that night as 
 many a "better-oil"' being has never known 
 how to.
 
 THREE EYES 
 
 "It's no good, master. If you don't go ahead 
 and break the path with your long legs, I can't 
 go a step farther" — and my beautiful leading 
 dog Snowball fairly sat down on her haunches 
 and faced me. It was her appealing eyes that 
 spoke, of course, but their " say-so " means more 
 than any amount of talk does. Truth to say, 
 I was not surprised, for the bottomless light 
 snow had compelled us to walk ahead on our 
 racquets since dawn, the heavy sleigh had com- 
 pletely beaten out the dogs, and we were all 
 of us about "all ia," as they say on the Coast. 
 
 Bidding the team sit down, I climbed 
 through the wood on one side of the hill which 
 we were skirting, so as to try and make out our 
 position. Soon, to my infinite satisfaction, I 
 found that we were on the bluff of the sea- 
 cliffs, and that away below us the sparkle of a 
 small light was visible. 
 
 "Surely, that's Jerry Scanlan's cottage just 
 below us, Snowball," I said on returning to 
 the team. "Pull yourselves together for the 
 last bit. We can almost roll on to it from the 
 bluff." 
 
 1G3
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 Without a word of remonstrance, she un- 
 curled herself from the hole she had made in 
 the snow, snapped out a call to the team, and 
 waded off once more chest-high through the 
 endless drift. 
 
 "A day's rest won't hurt 'era," said Jerry to 
 me the next morning, as I stood on the porch 
 receiving the morning salutations of my dogs. 
 'Nor you either," he added. "There be plenty 
 of good herrin' for the dogs, and you and me 
 can have a day's swatchin'" — which means 
 trying to shoot old seals in the holes of water 
 among the pack ice. 'I'll give 'em two feeds 
 to-day, if you'll stay," he went on, seeing me 
 hesitate, "and they 11 do two days' work in one 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "There's more logic than there sounds in 
 that," I mused, as I noted how my dogs, well 
 nourished when winter work began, now 
 showed the anatomv of their ribs. 
 
 "Very well, feed 'em now, Jerry," I an- 
 swered, which of course meant that you could 
 not drive them any more that day. 
 
 As we started out on the floe, I was sur- 
 prised to find a large white, gray-whiskered 
 dog, with a single rakish black patch over one 
 
 1G4
 
 Three Eyes 
 
 eye, which had earned him the sobriquet of 
 " Three Eyes," following us. He had on his 
 harness, with a long trace trailing behind. 
 
 'Frighten the seals, won't he, Jerry?" I 
 called out, thinking he had not noticed the dog. 
 . "Don't you believe it, Doctor. I would n't 
 go without him for fifty dollars." 
 
 After a long and unsuccessful day on the ice, 
 the wind being too much on shore, and the 
 "swatches," or open water, being mostly 
 closed, as we sat before the crackling log fire 
 I suddenly became aware that the big white 
 dog was stretched out under the table. I had 
 never seen a sledge dog inside a house before. 
 
 'Is Three Eyes allowed in the house? ' : I 
 asked; "because he's under the table." 
 
 'That's his right, Doctor," said Jerry, 
 "ever since he saved my life." 
 
 You can generally tell something about a 
 man himself if you know his dog, and I was 
 sure that if Three Eyes was a reflection of 
 Jerry, he was worth closer acquaintance. 
 
 "Tell me something about the dog, Jerry. 
 How did he save your life?" 
 
 "I'm reckonin' he's done it more than once, 
 Doctor. He's a traveled dog, is Three Eyes. 
 
 165
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 He 's been to France, too. One of them French- 
 men that comes out in the summer fishin' 
 heard about the dog, and one day I could n't 
 find him anywhere. After two or three days I 
 started out to look for him, but he was no- 
 where to be found, and it was n't till some of 
 the ships had left that a man up and told me 
 he'd seen Three Eyes on the Belle Marie, when 
 he was aboard getting a bottle of wine for his 
 wife. Brother Jim was just going South in our 
 schooner for supplies, and I sent a telegram by 
 him, to be sent to France to ask them to look 
 out for the dog. Well, sir, I heard no more 
 about it till one day just about a year later, 
 when in walks Three Eyes all by himself, 
 waggin' his tail, as if he'd just been for a little 
 walk round the house, instead of halfway 
 round the world. A French captain told me 
 after that the customs officer had seized the 
 dog when the Belle Marie came to Havre, 
 and had sent him back by my old friend 
 Captain Denis. The skipper had landed him 
 about four miles from home as he passed along 
 the Coast, and Three Eyes had just walked 
 home by himself. 
 
 "Them was the days of my poverty, Doctor. 
 
 166
 
 Three Eyes 
 
 Us had a hard family, six boys and four girls, 
 and all small, too. The traders had it all their 
 own way them times. Provisions was that 
 high that us was on a dry diet more than once 
 by New Year's. And clothin' — well, that 
 was mostly beyond reach altogether. The 
 only chance us had for fresh food before t' fish 
 set in in June was seals and ducks, and they 
 don't come down till late in April; so you may 
 believe that Three Eyes knew all about swiles. 
 He'd dive down in three fathoms o' water for 
 a cent any time, and more than one was the 
 swile that he brought me up from the bottom 
 in t' fall before they gets fat enough to float by 
 theirselves. I've had many dogs in my time, 
 — good dogs, mind you, too, — but none 
 quite like Three Eyes. If you loses your way 
 in a blizzard, you can just leave it to Three 
 Eyes, and he'll take you right home. If you 
 shoots anything in the water, never mind how 
 rough, you can bet Three Eyes '11 bring it. If 
 you drops anything off the komatik, you can 
 just send him back, and he'll find it for you 
 if 't is a mile behind. I takes him fishin' be- 
 cause if I lose a fish off t' hook, Three Eyes '11 
 go in after it, and mostly get him too. 'Deed, 
 
 167
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 I would n't be here yarnin' to-night if it was n't 
 for that great white brute there under the 
 table." 
 
 At this remark the dog's eyes looked up, 
 though his ehin remained glued to the floor 
 between his great furry paws, and he seemed 
 to smile a> he pretended to sleep again. 
 
 "Come New Year there was nothin' in the 
 cupboard, and for tea us was drinkhV the 
 spruce-tops and boilin' water. When March 
 eatiie in, flour was scarce enough, too, and if us 
 could n't get swiles it looked like starvation. 
 February had gone out blustersome, and there 
 was nothin' but the ojkmi water left — not a 
 whelpin'-pan to hold e'er an old harp to have 
 her young on, however much she might ha' 
 wanted it. At last, however, the winds shifted, 
 and the ice began to run in. It was long before 
 dawnin' next day when me and Three Eyes 
 was out lookin' for swiles. The wind had 
 pinned the runnin' ice ag'in' the standin' 
 edge, and it looked good swilin' ice, too. I 
 thought it was as well to die one way as an- 
 other, and so here goes — and we started out 
 across the floe. 
 
 : As luck would have it, there was n't a 
 
 168 
 
 a
 
 Three Eyes 
 
 sign o' swilcs near to, but Three Eyes was 
 rangin' ahead and searchin' everywhere. When 
 lie was about three miles out he gave tongue, 
 and soon I had a dozen fine old fellows, and 
 two or three white-coats killed, close to the 
 outer edge. 
 
 "I did n't like t' look o' things too well, for 
 I felt sure t' wind had veered by the feelin' 
 in the air. So I laced up one for Three Eyes, 
 and started off as hard as I could go, haulm' 
 one myself. I knew right then t' wind had 
 really changed, for it were right ahead again, 
 and what's more I knew that if it shifted the 
 ice off even a few vards, us 'd have little 
 chance of ever seein' home again. I reckon 
 that must have made me careless, for I had 
 barely time to see us was on black ice before in 
 she goes, and I was strugglin' in the water. I 
 can't swim, Doctor; t' water's too cold down 
 here to learn, but somehow I got hold of t' 
 edge and hung on. But there was no gettin' 
 out for me; t' heavy pans is far too high out o* 
 water — and so I thought t' end had come, and 
 I tell vou I thought of the wife and children. 
 It so happened Three Eyes had better sense, 
 and had gone round the young ice. He must 
 
 1G9
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 have missed me right off, for though he was 
 haulin' a heavy old dog harp, he was on the 
 nearest pan starin' right at me when I got my 
 eyes clear o' water. As I minds it now, he must 
 have done his thinkin' quick, knowm' I 
 could n't last many seconds in that water. 
 For almost before I knew what had happened, 
 lie had heaved me the line that was fast to the 
 swile, mind you, and as soon as he felt me 
 catch hold, he started to haul me out o' t* 
 water. What he really done was to run round 
 and round V hole quite quick like, and t' line 
 which was fasl to t' old harp at V other end, 
 just had to come into my hands. 
 
 "'I thinks still, Doctor, he thought it out 
 hisself, for he is n't much of a dog for talk and 
 show, as you knows, hut that time he fairly let 
 hisself go. Well, us was hurryin' all we knowed 
 how before that happened, but now I had to 
 cut the swile loose and run for my life. My 
 clothes was freezin' like boards, and even that 
 little time lost might mean that we would n't 
 be able to land. And land us did only by God's 
 mercy. For instead of the whole floe goin' 
 straight off, it had wheeled round, and though 
 there was open water all round when us 
 
 170
 
 Three Eyes 
 
 reached t' edge, by runnin' along us just got 
 a corner that touched t' shore ice as it wheeled, 
 and so got home safe, glad enough, even 
 though us had no swile, and only dry flour 
 again that night for supper. Only Three Eyes 
 seemed unhappy, somehow, though you may 
 be sure he got all I had to give him to eat, but 
 I guess he was wish in' he had had his supper 
 before he left those swiles. 
 
 'Well, sir, t' next day, and t' next day, and 
 t' day after that, Three Eyes and me was out 
 from daylight till dark lookin' for them swiles, 
 or any others thai we could find. But no luck 
 came along, and I was so sure that that ice had 
 gone that I had given up hope altogether. So 
 the next day I never went out at all. I never 
 mistrusted either but that Three Eyes was 
 home, too, that morning, till just about mid- 
 day, when I called, but could n't find a sign 
 of him. Xo one had seen him goin' out, and if 
 he left that day he must have started before 
 daylight. 
 
 "Anyhow, when I went out on t' cliff to 
 look for him, I saw him gallopin' home along 
 t' edge, just as hard as he could come. Of 
 course you may say that dogs can't talk, 
 
 171
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 Doctor, but that's just the difFerenee, — 
 Three Eyes can mostly make you understand 
 what it is he wants. He soon told me, anyhow, 
 that he wanted me to come along. So I gets 
 my gun right off, and away I goes after him, 
 runnin' just all I could to keep up, too. 
 
 "There's a small island that's little better 
 than a lot of cobblv rocks off t' south end o' t' 
 main island — lyin' out, I guess, some few 
 hundred yards from the beach. That was all 
 I could see besides ice when we got at last to t' 
 land's end. But Three Eyes did n't stop there 
 — down he goes, jumps right in oil" t' edge, and 
 swims off to t' rocks. Well, sir, when lie came 
 back, all I knew was that he had had his 
 supper, and it had been swile-meat, too. 
 
 "That's how he told me where those swiles 
 had gone. Xext day me and all the boys 
 hauled t' punt down to t' edge, and went off 
 in her. Sure enough, there were our swiles. 
 When that floe wheeled, t' outer edge must 
 have stuck right on the point of the island, 
 and then gone on, leavin' the pans with our 
 swiles jammed against the little island. Any-, 
 how, there was six old harps and four white- 
 coats. I minds t' number as if it was yester- 
 
 172
 
 Three Eyes 
 
 day; and that was meat enough for our crowd, 
 whatever else happened, to tide us till t' fish 
 struck in, or t' traders came back with sum- 
 mer supplies. 
 
 "Lie down, there, Three Eyes," he added in 
 the same breath; and I noticed for the first 
 time that the dog had got up while he was 
 finishing the story, and was pressing his chin 
 down on Jerry's knee to attract his attention, 
 while his bright eyes were fixed motionlessly 
 on Jerry's. They said, quite intelligently, 
 "That's all right, master. I only wish I had 
 the chance to do it all over again." 
 
 I noticed also that Jerry rubbed the dog's 
 head even while he pretended to scold him. 
 And I don't think tears were far from Jerry's 
 eyes either. But then, the logs were burning a 
 little low, and he was n't looking my way.
 
 TIIE LUCK OF THE LITTLE ROVER 
 
 Our Northern Hospital has a mission room 
 attached to it — a most humble affair with a 
 plain board interior. The innumerable knots 
 in the bare wood show clearly that the timber 
 has been cut from the gnarled spruces of our 
 North country. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, when the service was 
 over and the little congregation was straggling 
 out, one of the men stopped behind to talk to 
 me. He was a born sailor, quiet, self-confident, 
 and with no end of initiative. He was carrying 
 on a fishery near by, which, when we first built 
 the hospital, had been his father's, who also in 
 his day was a brave and successful fisherman. 
 
 During the twenty years past, when any 
 help had been needed in that district, it had 
 always been to their house that we had first 
 gone to seek it, and it was invariably rendered 
 without charge or delay. The best of neighbors 
 and a trusted friend, he had been through deep 
 waters since we parted in the fall of last year; 
 and we were anxious to hear the story of it, 
 though we feared to recall it unnecessarily to 
 his mind. 
 
 174
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 With the energy characteristic of the man, 
 when the fall of winter had driven him forth 
 from his Labrador station, he had speedily 
 settled up his accounts and gone on freighting 
 trips on the north coast in his vessel, the 
 Little Rover, long after most of the schooners 
 had retired to winter quarters. The long, dark 
 nights and heavy ground seas that character- 
 ize the last months of the year, and the bitter 
 cold which freezes the running rigging stiff and 
 makes the sails like wooden boards, had at 
 length convinced him that even he could no 
 longer venture to keep the seas. So when he 
 got a fair wind, with a free sheet and an extra 
 large load of lumber, they went spinning home- 
 ward with glad hearts. His crew were his 
 two brothers, a brother-in-law, and two hired 
 men, making a total of six. Loaded as they 
 were, it was not wise at any time, and at this 
 season of year it would have been criminal 
 folly, to risk a bad night at sea. So when sud- 
 denly, just at nightfall, the wind veered to 
 dead ahead, and the barometer made a sharp 
 corresponding drop, as the vessel was then 
 many miles from any shelter, it was decided 
 to run back for the port which they had left, a 
 
 175
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 matter of Borne thirtv miles. Many islands 
 and sunken rocks Lie off thai section of coast, 
 and the water runs off everywhere shallow for 
 
 many mile-, 30 thai heavy Beas make quickly 
 
 with the least l»it of wind. To find any an- 
 chorage it v. ntial to run in between 
 some large reefs, which, like most of our 
 dangers, are neither lighted n<>r buoyed. It 
 was dark when the first group was reached, but 
 
 thev were SOOD Safely passed. Willi a look- 
 
 out man on the bow, and hiiw«All astride the 
 main cross-trees, the skipper had managed to 
 make out bearii sufficiently well t<> avoid 
 the rocks on one side, without running into 
 those on the other. For a brief moment there 
 was comparative Bafety, and then again 
 another set of ugly dangers had bo l>e passed 
 
 close by. It was now pitch-dark and snowing 
 
 heavily, and the wind had risen to a howling 
 
 gale of winter. With mainsail doused and 
 
 reefed foresail, the schooner drove before it. 
 The master as before placed himself on the 
 cross-trees, in the vain hope that he might 
 thence possibly gel a glimpse of something to 
 guide him on his cours lecially as he neared 
 the Narrows. At length the log showed that 
 
 176
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 their distance was run down; also, to judge by 
 the time when they had started to run, they 
 must be past the la.-^t danger and safe to make 
 the harbor light within a few minutes any- 
 how. 
 
 Except for the hoarse roar of the storm no 
 
 sound was heard, — it was far too exciting a 
 
 momenl for conversation. Suddenly, from his 
 
 perch aloft the skipper's horrified gaze fell on 
 
 a long line of rocks and breakers right below 
 
 him, looking almost as if lie could jump di- 
 rectly down upon them. With every ounce of 
 strength in him he shouted to the helmsman; 
 "Hard up! Hard up, or she's ashore!" There 
 was still then probably just time to save her. 
 But the shrieking of the wind through the 
 cordage made his voice inaudible; the helms- 
 man put the helm the wrong way, and 
 with a frightful concussion tin 1 heavily loaded 
 vessel crashed into those adamantine rocks. 
 Instantly she was overwhelmed by heavy 
 seas. Mountainous breakers poured over her 
 doomed bulwarks from all sides at once. It 
 was only a few moments before the mainmast 
 had gone by the board with a crash, and the 
 stern of the vessel, battered by the thundering 
 
 177
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 surf, soon broke up to matchwood and went 
 after it. 
 
 All six men had, however, succeeded in get- 
 ting to the foremasl rigging, and soon were 
 clinging for dear lift* to the shrouds. The fore 
 
 part «»f the wreck, still surging as the gigantic 
 breakers struck her, threatened every moment 
 
 to go to pieces, and all hands knew that thai 
 
 would spell immediate death. The masl rolled 
 and swayed to and fro before the force of the 
 
 seas. The snow and spray drove through the 
 
 men's clothing just as if they had been naked. 
 It froze in icicles on their faces, and at times 
 made their clothe- as stiff as boards. So miser- 
 able was their plight that they hardly knew 
 
 I o * * 
 
 whether to pray that the mast might soon go 
 and mercifully end their misery quickly, or 
 thai it might stand long enough so that after 
 hours of agony they might have a chance of 
 being seen from the land, which was about two 
 miles away. All anticipated the worst, and 
 each bade farewell to the others. One of the 
 men, older than the rest, soon began to show- 
 signs of giving out, and so, to keep the others 
 in heart, the skipper proposed that they 
 should sing a hymn. 
 
 178
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 The whole scene was to me the more realistic 
 from the quiet way in which he pictured it. 
 Think of that long winter night, six men cling- 
 ing to the sorry remnant of a vessel in the boil- 
 ing surf of a reef far out in the ocean. They 
 were buried in snow and sea and darkness, with 
 deatli looming ahead any moment. Yet, in 
 spite of the war of surf and tempest, they were 
 calmly singing the old familiar strains of 
 "Itock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself 
 in Thee"; and then, when that had died 
 away : — 
 
 " Jesus, Lover of my soul. 
 Let me to Thy Bosom fly; 
 While the nearer waters roll, 
 While the tempest still is high." 
 
 Surely there, if anywhere, the Almighty was 
 in touch with the souls of men. 
 
 "You prayed also, I suppose, Skipper, did 
 you not?" I interposed. 
 
 "No, Doctor; I'm not a Christian, you 
 know," was his amazing reply. 
 
 'Whatever do you mean by that?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, I can never testify in the meeting, or 
 even pray," he answered. 
 
 " But it gave you comfort to sing, I suppose? " 
 
 179
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 "Oh, yes; it cheered us a lot, and we began 
 
 to hope and even think thai the mast might 
 
 hold on till daylight." 
 
 "The vessel's bow," continued the skip- 
 per, "must have been jammed in between 
 boulders. Perhaps th< v seas had driven her up 
 farther among the cliffs. Anyhow, the waves 
 now swept over her somewhat less. Perhaps 
 the wind and the tide were going dow n -we 
 could n't telL It seemed ages since we had 
 
 Btruck, when Maidenly I noticed that a large 
 
 part of our deckload of lumber had been 
 washed for'ard by the seas, and was jammed 
 in one huge pile between the rigging and the 
 mast. It struck me at once thai it' only we 
 could gel some rope to lash it together, we 
 
 mighl yet have another chance for our li\ 
 
 even if the mast should go before daylight. I 
 was able, by clinging to the spars, to crawl oul 
 
 on what was left of the boom and catch hold of 
 a line, which proved to he one of the reef- 
 lacings. The outer end had come loose when 
 the canvas went, so I hauled it in and cut it off 
 as low as I could reach. Everything else had 
 gone. When I came to look for'ard of the mast 
 I caught hold of a jib-stopper, and managed 
 
 180
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 to haul it up and cut off a long piece of that as 
 well. Yet, after all, in the darkness and cold, 
 we could do nothing worth while with such 
 short pieces; though a little later I did manage 
 to get one of the lanyards. 
 
 'It must have been about four o'clock — 
 anyhow it was a long while before the day 
 broke — that the mast began gradually to 
 cant over more and more; and then suddenly 
 it snapped off close to the gammon and went 
 over the side. The sea had meanwhile grown a 
 little quieter, and the wind had veered to the 
 west'ard. This enabled us to cling bitter to 
 the mass of lumber which was tangled with the 
 rigging. But to our dismay we found that now 
 the wind was off from the island on the end of 
 which we had struck, and on to which we had 
 hoped to escape at daylight. We could see that 
 there was no longer any chance whatever of 
 our getting on to that, although it seemed 
 only a few yards from us. Plainly there was 
 no chance for any swimmer to get through the 
 surf alive. 
 
 "We just lay there waiting events, stretched 
 out on the lumber, with first one piece and then 
 another washing away from us. Every now 
 
 181
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 and again the mast, which was still fast by the 
 wire shrouds <>f the rigging, would rush into the 
 raft <>n .1 sea, like a huge bat tering-ram, almosl 
 knocking it to pieces. Though we badly wanted 
 to keep the ^>ar to float us as our lasl chance, 
 if the worst came to the worst, there was no 
 hope of holding the lumber together if we did; 
 
 SO I made uj) my mind to cut her away if I 
 could and let her go. Id was si ill inky dark and 
 
 bitterly cold, and it was no easy ta^k to get 
 down to the lanyards without being washed 
 away. To cut the wire shrouds was out of the 
 question: we had neither axe nor chisel; only 
 our small jack-knives. Yet to get free from 
 
 that mast was our only chance. 
 
 "Once more I crawled along,' half under 
 water this time, and somehow managed to get 
 at the ropes long enough to cut them one by 
 one from the dead-eyes. Tangled as the rigging 
 was, with the Lumber washed criss-cross and 
 every way as the sea drove the spar to leeward, 
 it seemed as if the raft must still, in a few 
 moments at best, go to pieces. But somehow 
 through God's Providence the whole mass of 
 it worked loose together, was lifted by a big 
 sea right 'clear of the wreck, and we shortly 
 
 182
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 found ourselves, all six of us, lying out on loose 
 boards, and driving in the darkness toward the 
 open ocean, with neither the schooner nor any- 
 thing else visible any longer. 
 
 "No, we didn't speak much, only just 
 enough to make sure every now and again that 
 we were all there. Each man who could was 
 fully occupied trying to catch and haul back 
 and push under the rest again the pieces of 
 loose plank, as the sea kept tearing them from 
 the raft. Ages seemed to go by. But at last 
 daylight began Jo come, and we could see the 
 mainland and houses almost three miles away, 
 looming up large every time we rose on a wave. 
 Also out to seaward we could make out a low 
 island on which we knew a lighthouse had 
 recently been built. 
 
 'Hope revived with the daylight, and, find- 
 ing that we could stand on the raft, we piled 
 several boards on end, and hoisted first a piece 
 of canvas that had been torn from the foresail 
 and got tangled in the lumber, and then articles 
 of our own saturated clothing — though we 
 could ill afford to spare it even for that pur- 
 pose. We all felt now that any one looking out 
 would be sure to see us. It was Sunday morning 
 
 183
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 and bright and clear overhead; certainly the 
 men would Dot be working, hut would be about 
 their houses outside. For a time we fell as if 
 we were actually safe. The houses, which were 
 entirely clear to view now, were all those of 
 fishermen. Without a shadow of doubl they 
 would notice such a stxange-looking object as 
 we were. But we forgot, I supp how low 
 
 we were in the water, and how much smaller 
 one OF tWO floating boards are than a hoi 
 
 raised on the beach above the landwash. 
 "As the day wore on, hope once more b 
 
 to fail us. No si| 11 of help showed from the 
 shore, and though we only drifted skra ly, every 
 
 hour drove us farther and farther off. And 
 
 then all of a sudden we In mm i He aw; i re of a new 
 
 danger — a line of breakers lay dead to !• 
 
 ward, in the very direction in which we were 
 driving, and warned us that if help did not 
 come soon it would be too late. Mustering all 
 our strength we tried all we could to change 
 the course of our raft. We tried to row, and 
 then to paddle, using board- as oars. We tried 
 to steer her and swing her with our longest 
 planks as rudders. We made sails of some of 
 the boards on one corner of the raft, or again 
 
 184
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 pushed them into the sea, first at one end and 
 then at the other. But all our efforts failed to 
 alter our direction one iota. Nearer and nearer 
 we drove to the shoals, absolutely helpless to 
 save ourselves. 
 
 "Yes, we looked many times toward the 
 houses and the land where were boats and men 
 in plenty. But we knew at heart that they had 
 not seen us. Then the sea rose under us. The 
 breakers crashed into our crazy craft again, 
 and once more we bade one another good-bj'e, 
 as it seemed as if the raft were all in pieces, and 
 death only a matter of moments. 
 
 "But somehow we were again able to grab 
 and hold on to projecting pieces, and when we 
 had once more driven clear, — passing right 
 over the reef, — we found that the raft was in 
 two pieces which were only a dozen yards apart. 
 My brother and brother-in-law were lying out 
 flat on a few planks; the rest of us were clinging 
 to the other remnant. Scattered boards were 
 washing around everywhere, but we could only 
 get hold of a very few. So with the inevitable 
 end seeming to get nearer and nearer, we once 
 asrain began our long drift seaward. 
 
 Soon it became apparent to our dismay 
 
 185 

 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 that the larger raft was leaving the other be- 
 hind. T kept calling to my brother to try and 
 keep together, and to hold up the planks to 
 catch the wind, but they appeared to have 
 none to spare. We ourselves forced several 
 boards straight down into the sea through our 
 own pile, holding them there fasl SO that they 
 mighl act as drags. Hut we had no control, and 
 
 still cont inued to forge ahead. 
 
 "As the distance widened, we still shouted 
 
 to them occasionally t<> keep up their courage, 
 and at lasl we had to hid them good-bye, for 
 fear we might drift out of ear-.shot, and then it 
 would be too late. 
 
 "Just at that moment another wonderful 
 
 thing happened. The wind veered again, 
 bringing the low island more to leeward of us, 
 and at once we realized that there was still 
 another chance to be saved. We could see that 
 it would only be by a few yards at best, but it 
 was at least possible. Anyhow, it again gave 
 us oew pluck, and though we didjn't pray out 
 loud about it, or perhaps in words, I 'guess we 
 all did pray somehow. I know I did. And we 
 doubled our efforts to attract the attention of 
 the men on the island. 
 
 186
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 'By balancing carefully, we could still stand 
 upright on the raft, though the planks were 
 all the time getting fewer. No one could pos- 
 sibly have heard us, and no one appeared to 
 see us, but we kept shouting and waving all we 
 could. Meanwhile we still worked our hardest 
 to try and turn the raft, so that she might slew 
 as much as possible to windward. 
 
 "Already the daylight was beginning to go 
 again. It must have been about four in the 
 afternoon when we made out two men moving 
 on the island, which was then not more than 
 half a mile distant from us. It was n't long be- 
 fore we knew that they had seen us. Mean- 
 while, the wind had increased again consider- 
 ably in the new direction, and everywhere 
 there was white water on the wave-crests. 
 Much more came over us on our poor raft. But, 
 cold as it must have been, we no longer even 
 noticed it. Our whole minds were occupied 
 with watching the surf-line of the island. It 
 seemed strange to us that no boat came out to 
 meet us. For we drifted so terribly slowly, and 
 it was getting darker and darker all the time. 
 We might have known, however, that no boat 
 could possibly have lived through such a sea. 
 
 187
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 
 At last we were really close in, and we were 
 driving so close to the point that one minute 
 We were BUPe we should drive ashore and be 
 
 saved, and the next we were equally positive 
 thai we should miss the island and all perish 
 together. The minutes wenl like hours: the 
 cold and wet and hunger were all forgotten. 
 
 The old man was now lying jn>t stretched out 
 on the boards, and it was all we could do to 
 
 keep him from being washed away. Now the 
 Burf on the point was roaring so loud that we 
 could no longer hear one another speak, but as 
 
 the raft rose and fell on the sea we could make 
 out the men on the land beckoning, and evi- 
 dently shouting. We could hear nothing that 
 they said, and could have done nothing to help, 
 anyway. 
 
 "The other raft was about three hundred or 
 four hundred yards away from US, and was just 
 that much nearer the end of the island. They 
 were still all right aboard her, and we could 
 see now and again that they were doing their 
 best to claw her to windward. Once in a while 
 we waved to them to keep on trying. Then 
 suddenly without any warning, our own raft 
 rose on the top of a huge breaker, a sea rushed 
 
 188
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 all over us, and our crazy bunch of boards 
 struck the bottom with a furious crash. We 
 had washed right into the line of huge boulders, 
 which the floe ice drops everywhere in the 
 spring around the land wash. Fortunately for 
 us, the tide was at half-flood, so that sea after 
 sea washed us farther in over the outermost 
 rocks, till I suppose we were more or less pro- 
 tected from the heaviest combers of the deep 
 water outside. But even now we knew that 
 without help none of us could hope to reach the 
 shore alive. Indeed, we could not have done so, 
 if the men on the shore had not been there. 
 There were only two of them, but they roped 
 themselves together, and we could see that one 
 of them was beginning to work himself out into 
 the sea as far as he dared. He had brought 
 with him a light line, which with the aid of a 
 stone and stick he at last succeeded in flinging 
 over us. 
 
 "How the boards had kept together all this 
 time no man on earth can say, but as soon as I 
 caught the line I hauled in as much of it as I 
 could, and lashed to it the old man and another 
 who had now nearly gone also. We other 
 two clung to the long end and also to the raft. 
 
 189
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 We soon found, however, that they were not 
 strong enough on the land to drag two helpless 
 bodies through the surf, so we lashed ourselves 
 on to the end as best we could, and jumped 
 clear of the boards into the breakers. Though 
 we were washed over and knocked about badly, 
 we were able to find bottom somehow, and just 
 held on tight when the backwash came sweep- 
 ing out. Then between the seas we could shove 
 and help a little with what strength there was 
 left in us. So when the sea began to rush in 
 again we were all huddled together, and thrown 
 up nearer to the shore, and at last, more dead 
 than alive, we were all four dragged out on the 
 beach. 
 
 "Meanwhile the two men had seen the 
 second raft, and without any delay rushed off 
 to the point to see if they could save the others. 
 I was myself just able to follow them, but that 
 was all. Their boat was small and her oars 
 were useless. It was absolutely impossible to 
 launch her through the breakers, so as to try 
 and cut off the raft as she came along. Yes, if 
 they had thought earlier of dragging her to the 
 other side of the island they might have got 
 clear, but then they certainly would never have 
 
 190
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 got back in such a sea and wind. All we could 
 do was to stand there, watching the other raft. 
 It was just off the point now. We could plainly 
 see my brother and my sister's husband, and 
 we saw that they could see us, for they waved 
 to us and we to them. But we knew that this 
 time it was really a last good-bye. Their raft 
 missed the point by a hundred yards, and 
 drifted slowly on out to sea. Again and again 
 we saw them waving. Those were the most 
 awful moments of my life, for I knew then that 
 they knew they were lost men. So they passed 
 out of sight and we never saw them again. We 
 started at once to make bonfires on the island 
 to attract attention, and, indeed, it was by 
 that they learned the same night on the main- 
 land that help was needed on the island. But 
 it was two days before a schooner could get to 
 us, and then, though they searched the sea for 
 miles, nothing was found but a few sorry re- 
 mains of lumber all scattered on the water. 
 That night, while we were warm and dry and 
 had hot food and shelter for our own bodies, 
 our minds were away out on that other raft 
 with those who were perishing. There was no 
 rest or sleep for us. There was nothing — 
 
 191
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 nothing — nothing which we would not have 
 done or given up to save them. 
 
 " We had been through it ourselves, you see, 
 and then they were our brothers. To think of 
 them perishing while we could do nothing 
 nearly drove us crazy. The keeper of the light- 
 house never got over it. He had to resign and 
 leave. He could n't endure the constant re- 
 minders — well, they might have seen us 
 earlier in the day, or the boat might have been 
 in good order, or they might have thought of 
 carrying her to the lee side of the island, or if 
 they had gone out they might have lived 
 through the night, and fetched up at one soli- 
 tary rock ten miles out to sea which has a light 
 on it — well, they might have done anything. 
 He'd have cut off his right hand willingly if it 
 would have done any good. It was like the 
 curse of hell. Yes, Doctor, we miss sometimes 
 the little that we can do, because we don't 
 look out for chances." 
 
 There was a brief silence as I suddenly re- 
 membered that we were standing in the chapel 
 and that "divine service," so called, was just 
 over. Revolving in my mind was the question 
 whether the mysticism of worship or the ex- 
 
 192
 
 The Luck of the Little Rover 
 
 periences of life offer the soundest guide-marks 
 to the highest truths. The story cut so much 
 deeper into my consciousness than the exposi- 
 tion to which we had just listened. 
 
 We moved outside without speaking, and 
 from the platform my eyes at once fell on a 
 schooner that was lying in the harbor. 
 
 'What did you do, skipper, when the 
 steamer at last took you from the island?" 
 
 'Why, I just went and got that schooner 
 on credit," he replied, as he noticed the direc- 
 tion in which I was looking. ' You can't afford 
 to be idle, and it's no good to keep looking 
 back, is it?"
 
 KOMMAK THE INNUK 
 
 Tin: brief summer of Northern Labrador was 
 already drawing to its close. The little people 
 who alone arc able to wrest a living from its 
 churlish hospitality had just finished their 
 trading at Fort Chime Post, and were once 
 more preparing to wander back to their own 
 districts over the wastes and barrens of their 
 rocky northern peninsula, which juts out be- 
 tween Hudson Bay and the equally frigid 
 waters of the North Atlantic. Being a purely 
 predatory people, they must follow everywhere 
 the animals oil' which they make their living, 
 and which in their turn are but little less won- 
 derful in their ability to live under adverse 
 circumstances. 
 
 There deer and oxen can graze in the eternal 
 night of winter on the reluctant shores of the 
 Arctic Ocean. There foxes and bears can eke 
 out a living on the shelterless, lifeless ice-floes 
 which ceaselessly drive to and fro on the sul- 
 len polar sea. There one may see seals and 
 whales, warm-blooded animals, displaying the 
 wild joie de vivrc in water almost solid with ice, 
 
 194
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 and a temperature of forty below zero, the 
 former giving birth to, and actually suckling, 
 their babies on a floating ice-pan; the latter, 
 in the open sea itself, in defiance of gigantic 
 combers, north of the "roaring forties." Even 
 the birds can swim well enough to catch a fish 
 in fair chase under water, and are wise enough 
 and fly well enough to come thousands of miles 
 every year to nest in safety in No Man's Land, 
 while others can see well enough to drop out of 
 the sky, as they range over a rough sea, and 
 catch their prey unerringly a fathom below 
 water. The salmon trout can be happy living 
 during the greater part of the year in the dark 
 and cold, under endless feet of impenetrable 
 ice, quite content to wait till the brief season of 
 open water shall return again. There is no 
 doubt about it, nature has no room for fools, 
 north of '53. The incompetent are destroyed 
 remorselessly, and the bare narration of the 
 physical achievements and endurance of the 
 little people "away down North" come as 
 refreshing and almost inspiring stimulants to 
 us in the ennui of the civilized South. 
 
 This year, 1903, the hunt had been a good 
 one. The bags of white foxes had been well 
 
 195
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 filled. The "civil "spring had enabled oven the 
 most distant trappers to haul or boat their 
 packs of heavy bear and deer skins safely over 
 the long hundreds of miles to the nearesl white 
 
 man's post. There had been DO need even to 
 cache the seal and walrus hides. Migrating 
 geese had landed in myriads on the Northern 
 
 Coast. 
 
 The lit tie people were fat as well as rich, and 
 were facing the approaching winter with light 
 
 hearts, having all the earthly possessions that 
 a man sound in body and mind really needs 
 for existence. Thev had found the Hudson's 
 Wax Company post well stocked in food and 
 hunting necessities. The world lay before them, 
 and it was the opportunity of a lifetime to 
 break new ground — to venture out into 
 the unknown solitudes and virgin wildernesses 
 beyond, where game would be both more 
 plentiful and less sophisl Icated. Their families 
 were multiplying; there were more mouths 
 to feed, while the old hunting-grounds were 
 becoming overcrowded and the food-supply 
 depleted. 
 
 Among the more venturesome spirits there 
 had long been talk of some islands lying out in 
 
 196
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 the great ocean which no man had ever hunted, 
 and of the possibility of getting out to them. 
 They had dreamed of blubber in puncheons to 
 be had for the asking, of fur that had never 
 seen traps, and of birds which almost came 
 when you called them. Now if ever was the 
 chance to put their aspirations to the test. 
 But "how" is still, as it must always be, the 
 crucial question with primitive man. They had 
 heard more in detail, from the white man, of an 
 island out at sea, away below the horizon, 
 where no Innuit dwelt and where no man 
 hunted. Would it not be possible to reach it 
 over the winter ice with dogs and sledges, and 
 to store up enough food for the spring, in case 
 they should be unable to escape to the main- 
 land, until nature should once more build for 
 them the mighty bridge of ice? With their 
 good outfit they could risk the chance of trad- 
 ing fur for an extra year. 
 
 Six families decided that, at any rate, they 
 would make the attempt. The leaders were 
 named Bakshauk, a skillful young hunter of 
 twenty, and Kommak, one of the most re- 
 sourceful and successful of the tribe. It was 
 decided that they should all start together, as 
 
 197
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 soon as the lengthening days made it possible 
 to carry children safely. In order to make the 
 passage over the sea as short as possible, they 
 agreed to assemble near by Harbor, north of 
 the big Kovik River, and then set out west- 
 ward, following the setting sun, till they might 
 possibly strike land again. 
 
 The five hundred Long, trackless, and un- 
 inhabited miles which lav between their trad- 
 ing-DOSt and the chosen rendezvous would 
 alone seem insurmountable to many "family 
 men" under the circumstances. To these little 
 men, however, that was a bagatelle. Did they 
 not travel full five hundred miles each way 
 every journey from their hunting-grounds, as 
 they carried their pelts to exchange for the 
 white man's produce. The pleasures of a 
 bargain counter are beyond the horizon of the 
 Eskimo ladies 1 horoscopes, for it takes practi- 
 cally a year to make one visil to the shop. 
 
 To tell the truth, the thought of the great 
 venture did not trouble them. Unlike the 
 mighty Abraham waiting to fare forth to the 
 Land of Promise, they were bound by no senti- 
 ment to any particular section of our little 
 sphere. Time also is no object to the Eskimo. 
 
 198
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 If the true Wanderlust belongs to any human 
 beings, these Innuit, or "the men," as they call 
 themselves, may certainly be credited with it; 
 though it is a physical rather than a spiritual 
 stimulus which keeps them ever "on the move." 
 
 Bakshauk means "thinking" and Kammak 
 a "worm," and long before this venture was 
 over they needed to do much of the first and to 
 realize the aptness of the second as man's most 
 fitting title. Kamaksuak, Kuenaksaut, Novik, 
 Ananak, while capable hunters, followed rather 
 than led. 
 
 Christmas found all the families true to the 
 tryst, and a jolly crowd they were, camped on 
 the edge of the icy ocean with a good harbor 
 below them. With powder and shot and good 
 guns, food and clothing in the form of seals 
 had fairly swum into their cooking-pots, and 
 climbed into their wardrobes. Even the dogs 
 were fat as butter-balls. Indeed, the only 
 trouble was that they had more than they 
 could carry, and yet there seemed little use in 
 cacheing the supplies on the shore. Once again 
 in the lives of Eskimo the old paradox came 
 true, — they could eat all they liked, but, alas, 
 they could not. 
 
 199
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 It was not till the days were lengthening in 
 March that their trained senses assured them 
 that the right moment had come to make a 
 start. Then, without a vestige of fear, men, 
 women, children, dogs, houses, food, and even 
 boats, with every possible piece of parapher- 
 nalia stowed on the sledges, fared forth upon 
 the growling, groaning, heaving pack ice, to 
 cross the unknown sea, with the courage of a 
 Columbus. It was running ice over which they 
 had to journey, as the great tides of Hudson 
 Bay never allow it to form solid to the land and 
 it needed no small amount of courage and skill 
 to keep safely in the right direction. The 
 nights are still long and cold in those latitudes 
 in that month, but they had no chance of de- 
 lay, for only nature could even partially bridge 
 the ocean for them. Their tiny skin boats, now 
 lashed upon their sledges, were quite unfit for 
 so long an exodus over open water. The Innuit 
 are not troubled by trifles, however, nor has 
 the speed mania yet cursed the serenity of the 
 children of the Arctic night. If the day brought 
 them on their journey, they thanked God and 
 slept well; if they had drifted backward, or, 
 because of an absolutely resistless storm, had 
 
 200
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 been unable to stir from their tiny snow huts, 
 they again thanked God, and slept possibly 
 even better. For oddly enough, all these six 
 families held the inspiring faith of Christen- 
 dom. True, none of them had ever seen or 
 heard a preacher. But they had heard from 
 those who had heard, and, as the sequel 
 will show, they certainly deserved that high- 
 est of titles, "real Christian men," better 
 than many a conventional church-attendant 
 or professing assenter to any or all the 
 creeds. 
 
 Progress was not rapid. The ice was rafted 
 and hummocky, and even the moon was chary 
 of her beams, though her "right to be shining" 
 is at that time so generously prolonged. Yet 
 there were no mutineers in this company 
 of adventurers. The Bakshauk and not the 
 Kommak spirit was very much in the ascend- 
 ant as they pursued, day after day, as nearly 
 as they could judge, the direction in which 
 the sun ought to have set if it had been there. 
 On the fifth day for a brief moment after 
 midday it most graciously showed its face, 
 and before it had sunk behind the icy pinna- 
 cles, the keen eyes of the leaders had seen the 
 
 201
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 loom of blue land above the horizon. All was 
 well; there was no reason to hurry. 
 
 When at last they reached the foot of the 
 cliffs, the ice was broken and heaved up by the 
 pressure of the tides, surged, capsized, and 
 rafted, till the mighty barricades formed by 
 the debris might well have frightened any 
 human being. Hut in spite of it everything was 
 safely landed. The mi<>\y being .still hard and 
 the supply generous, in a few hours not only 
 were good houses built on terrafirma, and every 
 piece of property safely stowed, but the men 
 were gathered in the large igloo smoking their 
 pipes around their oil lamp and plotting to set 
 about exploring the island. 
 
 It is known on the chart as Mansfield Island, 
 and was discovered by Sir Thomas Button in 
 1612, under commission from Prince Henry. 
 It has very rarely seen a white man since that 
 day, however. It is about sixty miles long and 
 fifteen wide, and unlike our own mainland is 
 built up of whitish rocks in gradually rising 
 high terraces. For it is made up of a deposit of 
 Cambro-Silurian limestone in the great basin 
 of crystalline archaic rocks of which Labrador 
 forms one side. The Eskimo described it as 
 
 202
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 "very bad for skin boots," and indeed they 
 invented and used wooden-bottomed sabots 
 while they were on the island. 
 
 In summer an abundant low green vegeta- 
 tion covers the flat terraces, but now nothing 
 was visible in any direction but snow, ice, 
 and rocks. ^Yhen a suitable time for rest had 
 elapsed, the men, dividing themselves into 
 three parties, started off in different directions, 
 to survey the island and to give them more 
 chances of meeting game. Two facts very 
 shortly became evident, — first, there were no 
 trees whatever on the island, and no firewood 
 except such as might drift up alongshore, and 
 that was now well buried in snow and ice; 
 secondly, there were no deer, which was a 
 great disappointment. They had heard that 
 the big island just to the north contained any 
 number of them, and their skins, sinews, and 
 fat, to say nothing of the meat, are what so 
 frequently turn the balance in the struggle for 
 existence in favor of a primitive people, and 
 enable them to remain permanently in any dis- 
 trict without recourse to the white man for help. 
 
 In this particular instance, however, there 
 were many other things to make up the de- 
 
 203
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 ficiency. Luck befell them at once on the very 
 first day. Kommak'a dogs, harnessed into his 
 sledge, caught the scent of a bear and bolted 
 with the sledge. Before Kominak had time to 
 Unlasfa his rifle, the hear was actually on the 
 
 komatik, the dogs having divided as they came 
 
 upon him and the sledge having swept him off 
 his fed. lie soon recovered himself, however, 
 and stood up on his hind legs. The surprised 
 Kominak was entirely occupied in fending off 
 
 the d«»L r -. who were rushing and biting the hind 
 quarters of the hear a- soon as ever he turned 
 his hack. This gave Kommak a chance to get 
 his weapon and put an end to him. 
 
 Bakshauk had had the same experience, 
 only he caught sight of Bruin on the level ice, 
 in time to slip his dou r s, who gave chase and 
 soon brought him to hay, when a long shot 
 from the new rifle from the store gave the 
 hunter a mountain of meat, and a skin Mich as 
 even he had never seen before. Alas, however, 
 he lost one precious dog in the encounter. 
 Alluk, the boldest of the bold, had charged the 
 bear in front and been caught in his great arms 
 and his back broken with the hug which he 
 received. 
 
 20*
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 Bear tracks were, in fact, very plentiful, and 
 when they all met again after a few clays, each 
 party had as much meat, fat, and skins as they 
 cared to trouble with for the time. 
 
 With the advent of open water the salmon 
 trout in the river-mouths were very plentiful, 
 and the men were able to spear many seals and 
 walrus. Such was the abundance of supplies 
 that no thought of returning to the mainland 
 even to trade once occurred to them. They 
 wore kept busy drying the fish for the winter 
 for themselves and their dogs. The careful 
 ones scarcely fired a cartridge, husbanding 
 them for future need, and relying on their 
 walrus-tusk harpoons and bird darts. 
 
 Whatever else may be said of the Eskimo, 
 they can never be called mean. With all their 
 physical strength, endurance, and marvelous 
 ingenuity, they always suggest a whole race in 
 its infancy; but this childlikeness, though af- 
 fording many delightful characteristics, carries 
 with it its disadvantages. Among these lat- 
 ter, thoughtlessness for the future costs them 
 probably most dear. 
 
 Some of this particular party were un- 
 doubtedly more prodigal of their ammunition 
 
 205
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 and the supplies which they could not replace 
 than they would have been had they been 
 capable of considering a little what the womb 
 of the future might hold for them. However, 
 for the time, all went like a marriage bell. They 
 had plenty of time and good spirits for play as 
 well as work; which, as their play has its uses 
 in developing the extraordinary accuracy of 
 hand and eye, upon which their very lives often 
 depend, was of peculiar value to these people, 
 who, as the sequel proved, had to fall back 
 upon native methods and arts. These very 
 soon become lost capacities among those who 
 arc in constant contact with the white man. 
 
 One game played in the large common snow 
 house during the winter consisted in suspend- 
 ing an ivory ring by a cord from the roof, with 
 a weight attached to it below. It was then 
 made to revolve rapidly by twisting the string, 
 and the competitor won who first threw his 
 dart through the ring. In another game they 
 made the model of a deer and pierced it with 
 holes, each of which had a number. The prize 
 went to the man who made the highest score 
 with a miniature dart. 
 
 Meanwhile the women found time and ma- 
 
 206
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 terial to do much beautiful skin work, and the 
 children got all the roughly fashioned but 
 beautifully dressed dolls which their hearts 
 could possibly desire. 
 
 With the melting of the snow a great dis- 
 covery had been made. While searching for 
 firewood along the northeast coast, they came 
 upon the bones of some long-ago wreck, thrown 
 high up on the strand, to which place of safety 
 it had evidently been carried by the pressure of 
 the heavy ice-floes. 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine the excitement 
 even of these unemotional people as they 
 clambered up her sides, and explored the ut- 
 most recesses of her hold and cabins. The finds 
 were not numerous, but were useful all the 
 same. They discovered a good cooking-boiler, 
 some plates and cups, a few remnants of 
 cabin fittings, and some useful pieces of iron 
 from the rigging. Who the unfortunates had 
 been who had once manned her, when in 
 youth and strength she had sailed the seas as a 
 dainty craft only to meet her sorry fate in this 
 desert solitude, did not trouble our friends. 
 On the bluff close by were some old stones 
 which marked the spot where tents had once 
 
 207
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 been pitched, and there were rrmny signs 
 indicating that the castaways had been some 
 time on the island. A shrug of the shoulders, 
 "Ajaunamat," the equivalent of "Kismet," 
 
 .•ind the happy little crowd returned to their 
 friends, bubbling over with the great news, like 
 the children of the Arctic which they always 
 remain with their new trinkets. 
 
 In the wreck, too, they had ;i fresh source of 
 fuel, and around its salt-SOaked timbers, ;is 
 
 they crackled and sputtered with the exquisite 
 
 play of colors peculiar to such wood, the little 
 people had many a merry hour as the long 
 nights of the second winter .stole over them. 
 Above all, the wreck was a place where they 
 could get bits of iron and even copper. Every- 
 thing >till went like a marriage hell. 
 
 When the sea-ice was frozen far out from the 
 landwash in the fall, and the big seals were no 
 longer able to get near the land, the hay seals 
 in plenty kept bobbing holes open quite far 
 inshore, and it was nothing but fun, with such 
 good dogs as they had, to scent out a breath- 
 ing-hole. These seals keep a chamber under 
 the snow which collects on the rough ice, and a 
 hole up from the water beneath leading into it. 
 
 208
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 The male seals scratch away with their fore 
 flippers, working so assiduously that when 
 many an old dog seal falls a victim to the 
 Eskimo's spear, his "hands" are worn away 
 right down to the flesh. In these chambers the 
 young are born and the family sleep, only 
 coming up through the surface in summer 
 when the sun is warm enough for them to ven- 
 ture to bask in the open without risk of freez- 
 ing their paws and flippers. Through an un- 
 broken covering of snow a good dog will locate 
 these holes, and the hunter will sit motionless 
 for hours under a shelter built of ice blocks, 
 waiting for the sound of breathing or scratch- 
 ing to assure him that he will be able to drive 
 his spear straight down home to the heart or 
 brain of the quarry which he cannot see. 
 
 Then came the winter ice block again, and 
 its life of more or less enforced idleness, when 
 the short days were enlivened by games of ball 
 near the igloo, and the satisfaction of plenty 
 of food and warmth around the oil lamps at 
 night — till the lengthening days once more 
 tempted the hunter to wander afield after 
 game. 
 
 It was the month of March when Bakshauk 
 
 209
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 and Kommak were far out on the driving floe 
 hunting seals and walrus. Bad weather had 
 Bel in and the tee was getting dangerously 
 
 loose, so that often a wide lead of open water 
 would appear, to make it very hard for the 
 men to keep together. Familiarity here, no 
 
 !<■-> than elsewhere, leads t" contempt, and 
 
 the men took chances which no white man 
 would dream of attempting. One day fortune 
 
 deserted them. 
 
 The men had had a heavy day following the 
 
 trail of a bear along the standing ice-edge, where 
 he was earning a somewhal precarious living 
 
 on seals, which were scanty enough at that. 
 
 Suddenly they became aware of a movement 
 
 in the mass of Bnow on which they were stand- 
 
 ing, indicating that it had broken loose from 
 the shore and was driving oil' seaward. Shout- 
 ing to one another, they at once beat a hasty 
 
 retreat, only to find that they had a long edge 
 to follow to reach the one and only place 
 where there was a possible crossing to safety. 
 By the time they had reached it, even that 
 was not passable, and they had to take at once 
 to loose pieces. By the best of good fortune 
 Kommak and two others crossed to the land, 
 
 210
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 but Bakshauk, who as usual had been farthest 
 off, was too late, and all the others could pos- 
 sibly do was to call good-bye to him as he 
 slowly drifted from their sight on a solitary 
 ice-pan from which there was now no chance 
 whatever of escape. 
 
 AVith heavy hearts they returned to the 
 igloos to tell the sad news, for Bakshauk left a 
 wife and two children to mourn his loss. 
 
 Eskimo hospitality is a virtue almost un- 
 known to Christendom. More than once, as in 
 the marvelous story of the rescue of the crew of 
 the Polaris, have Eskimo hunters accepted the 
 enormous burden of supporting the helpless 
 white men who have been wrecked and must 
 otherwise perish. A consultation of the little 
 community was held to discuss what must be 
 done. It was a simple question. The helpless 
 must be cared for; it was merely a matter of 
 the best means of doing it. That, too, was 
 soon settled, for Kommak generously offered 
 to provide for them, together with his own 
 family, and his offer was accepted just as nat- 
 urally as it was made. 
 
 A woman is quite a necessity in an Eskimo 
 household, and though not as a rule contribut- 
 
 211
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 mg to the actual game-killing, once it is killed, 
 it is she who turns it into everything which is 
 useful. Among the Innuit a plurality of wives 
 has been the custom for all time. The position 
 of a husbandless woman is anomalous in a 
 community where the accommodation for pro- 
 tection for them is scarcely possible, in their 
 aecessaiily open tents and snow houses. A 
 very strong apology has been made for the 
 custom by all who have visited them, and even 
 l>y the Moravian missionaries it has been ad- 
 mitted that a dilemma arises when a hitherto 
 heathen Eskimo for the firsl time learns of the 
 
 custom of Christendom. 
 
 Kommak had found himself in just such a 
 dilemma a few years previous to the time of 
 their present adventure, and he had decided 
 that he could not abandon his second wife with 
 her one child, any more than now he could 
 abandon this defenseless widow. Thus his 
 burden became no light one. He must build 
 bigger houses, kill more food, and, until such a 
 time as his sons should grow up, he must, 
 sinulc-handed, support three women and six 
 children. This task he most nobly undertook 
 and successfully accomplished. 
 
 212
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 Since the people had been unable to trans- 
 port their kayaks on their long emigration, 
 they had been seriously handicapped in killing 
 seals in open water, but out of the timbers of 
 the old wreck and some pieces of driftwood 
 Kommak succeeded in building one, while with 
 his rifle he secured enough seals to keep it cov- 
 ered. Indeed, in this way his household was 
 always better provided for than the others, in 
 spite of the number of mouths he had to fill. 
 Moreover, with far greater foresight than the 
 rest showed, he at once renewed from the old 
 wreck the weapons with which, before he ever 
 saw a white man's store, he had been trained 
 to hunt for a livelihood. His bow and arrows 
 lie on the table beside me as I write. They are 
 shaped out of drift juniper wood, the bow, 
 skillfully strengthened by the twisted sinews 
 from the seal back, will now shoot its arrows 
 a hundred yards with ease. The arrows are 
 tipped with ivory from walrus tusks, or with 
 pieces of iron hammered out from the bolts and 
 nails of the wreck. The barbed tips are at- 
 tached to the shaft by copper rivets, also made 
 from some of the old fastenings that in their 
 journey from the unknown had enabled the 
 
 213
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 vessel once to sail so gayly across the great 
 ocean, as she came to cast herself away where 
 she might save the lives of so many. Kom- 
 mak wasted do powder on ducks when they 
 crowded into the open "swatches" (ponds of 
 water left in the floe ice), or when they were 
 fat and lazy in the summer time. His duck 
 dart is really a sportman's weapon. 
 
 The hunter who can make a gQod bag with 
 such an implement has a real claim to the title 
 
 of a "crack shot." It Is a simple piece of drift 
 
 juniper, with a sharpened holt in one end, while 
 from the shaft there project, at angles <>f forty- 
 five degrees, three barbed pieces of wood. If, 
 when he flung his dart, he failed to pierce the 
 hack of the duck, the side pieces entangled the 
 wings or neck. 
 
 This sport was the great joy of Semijak, 
 Kommak's oldest boy. .More than once he 
 would aim well enough to get two ducks at 
 one throw, and soon he could almost keep the 
 family in fresh meat. It was the same with the 
 
 lis in winter. With his keen ears he could 
 hear a seal under the ice, scratching to keep 
 his bobbing-hole open, long before most lads, 
 while their leading dog Kopcak could always 
 
 214
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 scent it in time to warn them to creep quietly 
 up to leeward. Then as a rule it was a short 
 shrift for the seal, as the youthful hunter drove 
 his long spear through its head, upturned to 
 breathe. He could detach the handle from the 
 barb so quickly that he could generally get a 
 hitch around it, and fling the pole crosswise to 
 help him when the strain came. More than 
 once, however, he had a big fight to hold the 
 larger seals till he could drown them, or till, 
 chopping down through the ice with a chisel 
 which was fixed in the other end of his spear, 
 he could see to dispatch them with the point 
 which was left when the barb was detached. 
 
 So it was that as year after year slipped by, 
 while at first all had had plenty, eventually a 
 small spirit of jealousy arose, one having more 
 than another. Moreover, Kuenaksaut, the old- 
 est of the party, died, and soon after him 
 his good wife. This left only an ill-balanced 
 son, Nannuk, to look after the family. The 
 discord became intensified, and, factions hav- 
 ing formed, the families divided, two of them 
 moving permanently to the opposite end of 
 the island. 
 
 Their ammunition had now given out, and 
 
 215
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 Kommak, hearing of their straits, with true 
 Eskimo spirit, sent over some of his own 
 dwindling stock. The roots of jealousy are 
 deep, however, and its fruits are always bitter. 
 As is so often the case with the little people, the 
 girls are not so successfully reared as the boys, 
 and already there were young men unable to 
 get wives. This meant a very miserable home, 
 with no one to sew and cook. 
 
 Nowhere was this lack more felt than in 
 Nannuk's igloo, but that very poverty and 
 meanness made the man a Less eligible suitor, 
 and he had to see the possible brides accepting 
 the hands and hearts of younger rivals, while 
 he dragged on in enforced celibacy. 
 
 Another year went bv, and Kommak's 
 generous help to his poor and disgruntled 
 neighbors had to cease. His own supplies had 
 run out, and at last the time came when even 
 he could no longer get seals enough to keep 
 his boat covered, and that again made it still 
 harder to get the seals, and so a vicious circle 
 was established. 
 
 At last things came to a crisis. Word came 
 over that Nannuk had determined to murder 
 Kommak, and take the second wife by force 
 
 216
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 unless he voluntarily relinquished her. At first 
 no attention was paid to what was considered a 
 mere idle threat. But one day, while hunting 
 along the shore, the two men met, an alterca- 
 tion ensued, and the threat was made openly. 
 Well able to take care of himself, Kommak 
 thought little of it till one day he found that in 
 his absence Nannuk had visited his igloo and 
 actually threatened his wife with violence. 
 Thus it became difficult for him to go far from 
 the house; one of the men must always remain 
 at home. Kommak was far too gentle to return 
 threats with violence, which he recognized 
 called more for pity, and so, though ten years 
 had elapsed since his coming to the island of 
 his adoption, he decided to set out again, and 
 both families on the west side decided that 
 they would leave also. 
 
 Had the group on the other side of the island 
 been willing to accompany them, it would have 
 been hard for them to do so. With the short- 
 age of food for themselves in midwinter, it 
 had been impossible to secure food for their 
 dogs, and they had been obliged to kill, and as 
 a matter of fact had eaten, all their teams dur- 
 ing the last two or three hard seasons. 
 
 217
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 Though no deer live on the island, Kommak, 
 when hunting on the northwest shore, had had 
 the good fortune to strike the trails of two 
 coming right in over the frozen sea almost 
 to their door. With their trusty hows and 
 arrows, he and his sou soon accounted for both 
 
 of them; one of the crude but truly marvelous 
 arrows, quivering in the hearl of the stag, 
 
 brought him down almost in his track-. 
 
 These deer seemed messengers from a land of 
 promise Still farther to the north and west, 
 
 telling the doubting hunters the direction in 
 
 which to travel. Kommak at once accepted the 
 omen, and chose Netsialiul (our April), the 
 moon when the jar seals breed, as the time to 
 set out. 
 
 Returning to the settlement the matter was 
 keenly debated in the large igloo — whether it 
 would be better to return the way they had 
 come or to make a still larger venture for the 
 land which thev had never found. Kamaksuak 
 
 t/ 
 
 was at first for agreeing with Kommak. 
 
 'There was little for us around the Koit- 
 saut. There are plenty who fish the Kovik 
 River. Illukotat is hunted by many. What 
 Kommak says seems wise." 
 
 218
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 But Kuanak was resolute to go no farther. 
 "We did not starve at Sugluk. Birds were in 
 plenty at Nuivuk. The rivers around Kingua 
 have many trout. Who can say where the land 
 of these tuktu [deer] may be? The ice is now 
 moving to the eastward. The winds are com- 
 ing westerly. If I cannot remain here I shall 
 return the way I came." 
 
 "We have all heard of the big island where 
 deer are plentiful," urged Kommak. "We 
 thought to reach it when we started from the 
 Icy River. This is a new land at which we 
 stopped, and not the land we sought. It was to 
 reach a land full of deer that we started. Shall 
 we, Innuit, be beaten, and called Kulluk [no- 
 good men] by our folk? For my part I will not 
 return till I have tried again to find the land. 
 Surely it cannot be far away. The deer we 
 killed were fat, and yet they left their land. It 
 must be overflowing. For my part I start 
 over the western ocean to go north again." 
 
 The oil lamps had to be replenished many 
 times before the matter was settled, and it was 
 the early hours of morning before Kommak 
 realized that he must make his pilgrimage 
 alone. Kamaksuak's courage failed him at the 
 
 219
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 last, while Novik and Ananak said: "It is back 
 to our own people we go. If we are lost on the 
 way you shall one day tell of us; but if you 
 arc lost we will tell. Surely, if we all go to- 
 gether there will be no one to hear the news." 
 And so it happened that Kommak set out 
 alone. 
 
 There wa> one ceremony yet to l>e performed 
 before leaving. The kettles, pots, and cups 
 
 borrowed from the wreck were DOl their prop- 
 erty, hut the white man's. They felt entitled 
 
 to the old bits of iron, copper, and timber from 
 the useless wreck, but the spirits of the white 
 men might need their private property. Had 
 they not put old Kuenaksaut's belongings 
 within the stones which guarded his body 
 from the wolves and foxes, in order that their 
 spirits might serve his spirit in the land of 
 shadow's? Had not Kommak himself, Chris- 
 tian though he was, left there one of his own 
 last precious sticks of tobacco, seeing that the 
 old man had none? Otherwise how could his 
 old friend obtain in the place of bliss that 
 pleasure so dear to the heart of every Eskimo? 
 And now what good luck could they expect to 
 meet with if they were to set out on their journey 
 
 220
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 with the proceeds of robbery among their pos- 
 sessions? 
 
 As on the previous venture so many years 
 before, day after day they kept on, sometimes 
 gaining and sometimes losing ground, but al- 
 ways pushing ahead again when the storm winds 
 made it possible, with the same optimism and 
 sangfroid, ever toward the setting sun. Once 
 more, on the fifth day out a clear evening gave 
 these veritable crusaders a glimpse of land ahead 
 to the west, and with good heart they started 
 next morning to push toward it. Like Moses of 
 old, however, they were destined only once to 
 see the Land of Promise. A whole succession of 
 sou 'westerly gales set in; the ice-floe, instead of 
 merely drifting a mile or two a day, simply 
 rushed before them, and when after another 
 five days the travelers found that they were 
 still losing ground, and were farther east than 
 when they had started, they most wisely de- 
 cided to abandon the attempt. 
 
 They realized that they were away north of 
 their old island of Mansfield, but had little 
 knowledge of anything beyond that. They 
 had, indeed, heard of an island, north of 
 Wolstenholme, in which deer, at least, were 
 
 221
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 plentiful, but it would !><• futile to spend energy 
 in trying to travel when jus! as likely as not 
 they were moving in the opposite direction to 
 that in which they intended to go. So they de- 
 cided simply to live on the floe and await 
 event s. 
 
 Fori line favored them. The winds held west- 
 erly with the current most of the time. The ice 
 remained in large pans, and life was (airly com- 
 fortable, as the snow houses were n<>t broken 
 l>y the jarring and capsizing of the rafts — a 
 common experience when the immense pres- 
 sure gathered by the winds over a large ice- 
 field opposes the stream of ice running with a 
 tide. 
 
 Tegedlulgul (May), when the square-flipper 
 ha-; bis young, was now upon them. Days were 
 warm and nights short, and the ice was get- 
 ting much looser. Great openings of water ap- 
 peared between the pans, and it became much 
 harder to u r et near enough to seals and hirds to 
 use their simple weapons with effect. Food was 
 very scarce and, indeed, all hands were on short 
 rations when at last land loomed up once more 
 ahead. This time it seemed to run all along the 
 northern horizon, and at one time it appeared
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 to he almost certain that they would he able 
 to reach it, as a long jam of ice formed a bridge 
 from their floe to the land. 
 
 Without a moment's delay all movable goods 
 were transferred to the sledges, and a real dash 
 was made for the land, which was high and 
 rugged (it was evidently Nottingham Island). 
 They soon found that the bridge on which they 
 were traveling was only held against the island 
 by the projection of a cape in a southeast 
 direction. As they drew near, they could make 
 out that it was the end of the land, and thus 
 everything depended upon the speed which 
 they could make while the wind continued to 
 hold the ice against the cliffs. 
 
 The sprint for the land of the heavily bur- 
 dened little company might have served as an 
 illustration of a mixed obstacle race in "Alice 
 in Wonderland." Yet at night they seemed not 
 one whit nearer their goal, and the wind, which 
 was their sole dependence, fell away at sun- 
 down. Accustomed to the flat island, and the 
 land around W T olstenholme, they had mis- 
 judged the high cliffs of Nottingham Island as 
 being nearer than they really were. Yet, by the 
 light of the young moon, when they realized 
 
 223
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 that once more they were doomed to dis- 
 appointment, they built their snow houses, and, 
 turning in, slept just as soundly as if they had 
 really been once more on terra Jlrma. As they 
 were out of sight of land again l>y morning, 
 they had almost forgotten that they had ever 
 Been it. 
 
 It became harder and Still harder every day 
 to secure food, and at last it was no longer 
 possible to save their dogs. One after another 
 they met the fate of Nannuk's team and were 
 killed and eaten, and their skins used for much- 
 needed repairs to hoots and clothing. By the 
 middle of May only the faithful Kopeak was 
 left, and he was a mere shadow of his former 
 self, though by that time he combined in his 
 own person the best part of the entire team 
 which had left the island two months previ- 
 ously. Now for a time blank starvation faced 
 the whole company. Spare pieces of skin from 
 gloves and boots had to be soaked and eaten, 
 in order to maintain strength enough to con- 
 tinue the unequal struggle. 
 
 The ice got looser and looser each day, and 
 still no land came in sight. Kommak had 
 rightly guessed that the western entrance to 
 
 224
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 Hudson Bay Straits had been passed, and that 
 they were rapidly driving out into the ocean be- 
 yond, where all must inevitably be lost. Birds 
 were beginning to pass north in greater num- 
 bers, and seals were seen continually, but each 
 day it became harder to get near any game. 
 Occasionally a walrus poked his nose out and 
 blinked at them, but without a kayak it was 
 impossible to secure him. It would almost have 
 been better if they had not seen any. 
 
 June weather was upon them now, and there 
 was daylight day and night. The weather was 
 warm, really hot, indeed, with the reflection 
 from the ice and the continual sunshine. But 
 the snow houses would no longer hold together, 
 so that they had no shelter in bad weather, 
 even for the children. Yet at last, when the 
 tide of fortune set in their direction, it was a 
 spell of this very bad weather which eventu- 
 ally saved their lives. 
 
 The wind had chopped round to the north- 
 east, and the moisture-laden warm air from 
 over the Atlantic, chilled as it passed over the 
 frigid polar stream which sweeps into the 
 Straits out of Fox Channel, had for several 
 days made an impenetrable fog. It was so 
 
 225
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 thick that even the rain which fell at night 
 did not dispel it, nor did the fury of the high 
 wind have any effect upon it. Before it the 
 westward trend of the ice was checked even on 
 
 the ebb tides, and when the flood tide hanked 
 
 up the water, whole fields were driven to the 
 east and south. 
 
 [n spite of the danger of wandering from the 
 
 others in the fog, in spite of the fact that the 
 
 whole floe would sometimes turn around on 
 the current and bo make bearings useless (for 
 when you went westerlyto hunt in the morn- 
 ing, you might, just as likely as not, have to go 
 on walking in a westerly direction to get l>aek 
 again) — ■ in spite of all these 1 drawbacks, hunt 
 they must, even if it might be supposed that to 
 sec game in such a fog was out of the question. 
 Many a man from civilization would have 
 accepted the apparently inevitable, and, at 
 least temporarily, have abandoned the strug- 
 gle. Had Kommak not been the Innuk, — 
 the proud title they claim, — that is, the man, 
 he was, all must have undoubtedly perished. 
 Now once more that which had seemed to be 
 against him turned out to be his best friend. 
 As he crept along the rough ice in the thick fog, 
 
 2 26
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 lie almost stumbled over a large polar bear. 
 The surprise was mutual, and almost equal, 
 but Kommak was the quicker of action and in 
 an instant one of his nine arrows, all he had 
 left, was actually quivering in the heart of the 
 bear. It had really transfixed the one spot 
 which could have killed the animal quickly 
 enough to prevent his escape into the water, 
 where, of course, he would have been lost. 
 
 No second shot was needed. Kommak found 
 himself literally sitting on a veritable moun- 
 tain of fresh food, which would last at least as 
 long as the ice on which they were floating. A 
 little later, when he stumbled into camp with 
 as large a chunk of meat as he could carry, his 
 was a joy which no purchased trinket could 
 afford. 
 
 Meanwhile he fully appreciated the fact that 
 nature was giving them what would probably 
 be the last chance by driving them to the 
 southeast. The whole company was hurrying 
 in that direction with all the little strength 
 which they had left them. Owing to the new 
 meat-supply they were able to push ahead con- 
 siderably the faster. Moreover, they were wise 
 enough to abandon, not only the heavy skins, 
 
 227
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 hut every other possession which they could 
 possibly do without. The persistence of the fog 
 and wind was more than remarkable, it became 
 almost uncanny, but still they pushed on into 
 the gloom, along a road which apparently led 
 nowhere. Suddenly, without a minute's warn- 
 ing, round chopped the wind to the wot ward, 
 and in a few moments not a vestige of fog 
 was left, and right under the lee of the ice on 
 which they were traveling was a group of three 
 islands. They had passed close along beside 
 them without seeing them at all. 
 
 Had the fog lasted a few hours more, they 
 would have had scarcely any chance whatever 
 of making a landing. As events turned out, 
 they were soon clambering up the rocks of an 
 island about nine miles long, one of a group 
 called Digg's Islands, which Kommak at once 
 recognized as lying out from Cape Wolsten- 
 holme about twelve or thirteen miles. 
 
 This passage is so often solid with ice that a 
 continual watch was kept for a chance to cross 
 to the mainland. The winter ice, however, had 
 broken up a few days previously, and no solid 
 jam of drift ever formed again to make the 
 attempt to cross feasible. There was nothing 
 
 228
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 to do but make the best of it for the time. As 
 a matter of fact, they were but little better off 
 than before. No human being ever visited the 
 island, and there were no trees on it; though 
 they had plenty of moss for tinder with which 
 to make fire with their fire-stones, there was 
 practically no fuel obtainable. Every bit of 
 driftwood was carefully collected by the women 
 and carried in their hoods to the camp, while 
 the arrows, spears, and darts were carefully 
 repaired. 
 
 Some of the many birds arriving from the 
 south were killed with stones, and some few 
 near the shore with darts. Arrows were al- 
 most too valuable to risk, except at birds 
 resting on the land. By means of splicing with 
 thongs, a couple of trout-spears were obtained, 
 and a sparkling rock dangled a fathom under 
 water through the ice readily attracted the 
 newly arrived salmon trout, while the deft 
 hands of Kommak and Semijak speared many 
 of these shining beauties. The eggs of gulls 
 nesting in the faces of the cliffs were also 
 secured, and it was July before the luxury of 
 contrast allowed the shadow of the future 
 again to stir them to serious efforts to reach 
 
 229
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 the land. In order to secure that end, seals 
 were the one essential. They must have skins 
 to cover a boat, l)iit as they had nothing in 
 which to hunt the animals, thai seemed almost 
 out of the question. 
 
 One day, however, a large Ice-pan driving 
 through the Straits stranded in a cove on the 
 
 smith side t>f the island, and Kommak, who 
 
 was always prowling round the Landwash in 
 search of game, promptly spied it. Seals, 
 though apparently asleep, have a habit of 
 putting up their heads and spying around for 
 danger. It was an easy matter to gel to the 
 ice-edge unseen, l>ut the seal was on the outer 
 edge, and had a full view of anything approach- 
 ing over the white ire. Lying flat on his face, 
 Kommak proceeded to crawl and wriggle over 
 the surface so long as the seal's head was 
 down, while the very instant that it raised it 
 up, he lay still and called like a seal blowing 
 after a dive, <v Poo-yee, poo-ye< . ' {Poo-ij>< is 
 Eskimo for seal.) With its fears allayed, the 
 seal would once more stretch itself out, and 
 then after a few minutes would rise up and 
 watch the approaching man. Kommak was 
 himself clothed in sealskin from head to foot, 
 
 . ;o
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 and he took good care to wriggle both legs 
 together like a tail, and, indeed, waved them 
 while the seal was looking on — as that form 
 of salutation is very acceptable to seals. As 
 he got nearer, he could see that the animal 
 was almost on the ice-edge, and even a mortal 
 wound might leave it able to slip off into the 
 water and sink before he could seize it. With 
 infinite patience he worked round down wind, 
 till at last he was actually between his victim 
 and its only chance of escape; and then once 
 more his trusty arrow did its duty. The ac- 
 quisition was only a small one, but it bred 
 hope in the heart of so confirmed an optimist, 
 and he and the women at once set to work to 
 make a frame for an oomiak. The oomiak, or 
 woman boat, is a perfectly flat-bottomed craft, 
 with square corners and ends, and looks ex- 
 actly like a magnified English pie-dish, cut to 
 size, according to the amount to be floated. 
 This one was seventeen feet by eleven. The 
 remaining dog-traces, and every square inch of 
 skin, including the dart-line, had to be split 
 for thongs to fasten the little pieces of wood 
 together. Still, something was accomplished, 
 and bit by bit the framework of as wonderful a 
 
 231
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 craft as ever floated grow, as it were, roll by 
 cell, just as a vegetable does. And then they 
 waited for more "skin." The ice that came 
 to the shore brought no more seals with it, 
 and there was no good foreshore for basking 
 on. At last, however, as in the case of Mr. 
 Micawber, something turned up. Kommak 
 saw a square-flipper seal climb out on a rock a 
 few yards from the shore. With his harpoon 
 and line, his inseparable companions, he clam- 
 bered along the foot of the cliffs until he came 
 near the spot. Sure enough, an old bulk almost 
 as heavy ;i> a real bull, wa^ dozing on the rock. 
 
 He was just out of range, but Kommak enticed 
 him near enough to harpoon him and hauled 
 him ashore after a hard fight. 
 
 The two skins were not sufficient, however, 
 to cover any boat large enough to float all the 
 party, and nothing was further from Kom- 
 mak's mind than to desert some of them even 
 temporarily while he crossed to look for help 
 from the mainland. Well he knew that those 
 left behind would perish without him to fend 
 for them. 
 
 Another season of enforced waiting, and at 
 last help came from a very unexpected quarter. 
 
 232
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 The wife of Bakshauk, searching for driftwood, 
 saw something dark rolling in the surf. Gath- 
 ering the other women, she waded out into 
 the water, and together they were able to drag 
 ashore the body of a large walrus half -eaten 
 by bears. When the skin was removed and 
 dragged to camp, it was found to be just half 
 large enough to finish covering the oomiak. 
 Kommak was as fortunate in the resourceful- 
 ness of his women as he was in his own, and be- 
 fore night they had so cleverly split the piece 
 of skin they had recovered that all agreed that 
 it would be better to risk a crossing now — as 
 August had already come in — than to delay 
 any longer on the island. 
 
 My friend the Hudson's Bay Company fac- 
 tor at the post newly established at Cape 
 Wolstenholme, was out hunting geese down 
 near the landwash at low water one Saturday 
 evening when he became aware of a strange 
 object approaching the land. With his pocket 
 telescope he soon made it out to be an oomiak 
 packed as full as it would hold of people. 
 Some hours had gone by, and the tide was 
 nearly full before he again thought of the 
 
 233
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 approaching Eskimo, and to his surprise he 
 found that they were keeping offshore, evi- 
 dently in doubt as to what to do. Going down 
 to the water, he beckoned them to approach, 
 giving them to understand that they were fret- 
 to land, and would receive a friendly welcome, 
 whereupon, with the queerest of patched-up 
 
 paddles, women and men alike assisted in 
 
 bringing the crazy hark to the beach. Their 
 
 hesitation to land was explained by the fact 
 that no white man had been at the ( 'ape when 
 they last saw it, and they were not sure what 
 to expect. 
 
 The agent at onee recognized the truth of 
 their story, for it was well known that ten 
 years previously several families had left the 
 mainland for the island. Never a word had 
 been heard of them since, though they had not 
 actually been forgotten. Captain Murray, of 
 a Seoteli whaler, had steamed as close as he 
 dared all along the eastern shore of Mansfield, 
 blowing his whistle and showing flags to attract 
 attention in case any Eskimo should happen to 
 be stranded there, but he had not been able to 
 inake out any answering signals. Yet as a 
 matter of fact the little people on the east side 
 
 234
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 had seen her pass in full view, but in their ex- 
 citement they had forgotten to light a fire in 
 order to signal back, and had confined their 
 efforts to hoisting all their foxskins stretched 
 out on a long line, hoping thereby to induce 
 the vessel to call in for trade; but she had 
 passed without seeing them. 
 
 The captain's report had confirmed the 
 general opinion that they had never reached 
 the island, and the whole company had long 
 ago been given up for lost. 
 
 Though these poor folk had been obliged to 
 leave behind them nearly all their bearskins, 
 of which their tally showed twenty-seven, and 
 also all their walrus and narwhal tusks, they 
 had quite a number of good foxskins, and with 
 these they at once requested permission to go 
 into the store. They had been nearly ten years 
 without tobacco, to say nothing of the count- 
 less other luxuries of a white man's store, and 
 tobacco and matches, the universal poarboire 
 of a Hudson's Bay Company store, were what 
 they asked for first. 
 
 The trading was over, and the men had gone 
 to fix up for the night a tent which the agent 
 
 235
 
 Talcs of the Labrador 
 
 had kindly lent them. It was getting dark, and 
 my friend was entering the doorway of his 
 house when he heard the patter of feet be- 
 hind him. It was Mitteakuk, the oldest of the 
 women, who had returned to ask him what 
 seemed a most extraordinary question. 
 
 'Is it not to-morrow that is the day of no 
 trade? " 
 
 "Yes, to-morrow is the day of rest," he 
 answered. 
 
 'I am glad," she said. 'We have kept count 
 ever since we left, hut we were afraid we had 
 mistaken a day." 
 
 The following morning, as the factor was 
 dressing, he was attracted by the sounds of 
 singing outside. As he stopped to listen, the 
 words of the Eskimo version of one of our most 
 familiar livmns reached his ears — "Rock of 
 Ages, Cleft for Me." 
 
 Kairtok piulijauviksak 
 Mane oktortauvingnie 
 Ijervigidlarlagit, 
 Piulijaunartogavit. 
 Jesus ungagivara, 
 Killangmut tessiormanga. 
 
 There was Kommak with all his little party 
 gathered round him on the bare rocks outside 
 
 236
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 the tent holding morning prayers. An Episco- 
 pal prayer-book and hymnal were still among 
 this unusual man's most cherished possessions. 
 He concluded the service with an extempore 
 expression of sincere gratitude to God for their 
 safe return to the land which they looked upon 
 as home. My friend assures me that never in 
 all his life had he been a witness to a more im- 
 pressive service. 
 
 There is yet one even more extraordinary 
 chapter to the story. Even before the wander- 
 ers, well fitted out for another lease of life, left 
 the Cape, a party from the eastward came in. 
 Among them was a man who had crossed the 
 Straits from Lake Harbor in Baffin Land, and 
 who was returning to the district of his birth 
 between Cape Smith and the Big River. He 
 had with him his wife from the north side of 
 the Straits, but no family. 
 
 Truth is stranger than fiction. This man 
 proved to be none other than our old friend 
 Bakshauk. When he was driven off on the ice 
 he had built himself a snow house, in which in 
 bad weather he had slept for days at a time 
 with scarcely anything to eat. He had no fire 
 
 237
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 to warm himself or to cook food. With only 
 his bow and arrow and spear he had killed 
 game enough, alone on the drift ice, to keep 
 life in him for three months, after which 
 period he had escaped from the floe to the 
 .shore of Baffin Land, at a point about one 
 hundred miles north of the whaling station at 
 
 Lake Harbor. Traveling south along the land- 
 wash, he had still continued to kill enough seals 
 and birds to keep body and soul together, and 
 he had at Length actually reached the post after 
 traveling a distance of certainly not less than 
 a thousand miles from the place where he 
 started, lie was not one whit the worse for an 
 experience which would have killed any ordi- 
 nary man of the world. His main trouble had 
 keen hoots, which he had never been able to 
 repair, for he could never dry the skins of the 
 animals which he killed, as they froze instantly, 
 and he had no fire to thaw them out. Only by 
 cutting pieces out of his other garments, and 
 patching the holes as best he could, without 
 needle or thread, was he able to travel over the 
 ice without getting frost-bitten. 
 
 There was onlv one difficulty to be settled, 
 and that was the question of the first wife. 
 
 238
 
 Kommak the Innuk 
 
 Bakshauk bad for several years been learning 
 from the missionaries stationed at Lake Har- 
 bor that it was unlawful to have more than 
 one wife. He had never expected to see his first 
 wife alive, and she had long ago considered 
 him as lost. At length a conference took place 
 between all the parties on perfectly friendly 
 terms, and the matter was settled by the first 
 wife and her son remaining with Kommak, 
 while the daughter and the second wife went 
 with Bakshauk. 
 
 Novikand Ananak reached the Kovik River 
 without more than the usual adventures inci- 
 dent to the wandering life of the little people. 
 The same winds which had foiled Kommak's 
 attempts favored them when they left the 
 southern extremity of the island to go east. 
 
 "But what about Kuanak and Kamak- 
 suak?" asked the agent. 
 
 "They could n't leave, having neither dogs 
 nor outfit." 
 
 "Are thev still on the island, then?" 
 
 "Indeed, thev must be." 
 'Will they not perish during the winter?" 
 
 "I fear it will be even so." 
 
 "Can nothing be done to save them?" 
 
 239
 
 Tales of the Labrador 
 
 "The Innuit can do nothing. Only an 
 oomiavik of the Kablenaks [white men] can 
 rescue I hem." 
 
 Alas, no Bhip has yet been able to go, and 
 their fate still hangs In the balance. 
 
 Wonder has frequently been expressed as to 
 how the Eskimo became a circumpolar race. 
 Tliis simple piece of history Berves a1 least to 
 indicate the way in which it may haye occurred, 
 and thai it may well have been quite involun- 
 tary on their part. 
 
 THE END
 
 Cbc fliticraiDc prctf* 
 
 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DL'E on the last d.itt stamped below. 
 
 
 Form L9-7m-7, , 56(.C1107s4)444
 
 PR6013 
 
 G86t Grenfell - 
 
 rales of the Labra- 
 dor. 
 
 ^mM^J"™.,^.^^!- LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 385 824 
 
 8