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diff --git a/32052-h/32052-h.htm b/32052-h/32052-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..402f9fb --- /dev/null +++ b/32052-h/32052-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7782 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Grenfell: Knight-Errant of the North, by Fullerton Waldo. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h5,h6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + body{margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} /* small caps */ + .fakesc {font-size: 80%;} /* fake small caps, small font size */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .block {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} /* block indent */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .totoc {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* Table of contents anchor */ + .totoi {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* to Table of Illustrations link */ + .img {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */ + .tdr {text-align: right; padding-right: .75em;} /* right align cell */ + .tdl {text-align: left;} /* left align cell */ + .tdlsc {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tr {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */ + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + color: gray; + background-color: inherit; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers */ + + .poem {margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 15%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Grenfell: Knight-Errant of the North, by Fullerton Waldo + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Grenfell: Knight-Errant of the North + +Author: Fullerton Waldo + +Release Date: April 19, 2010 [EBook #32052] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRENFELL: KNIGHT-ERRANT OF NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Roger Frank and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<br /> +<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved.</p> +<p class="noin">This work has dialect and unusual spellings.</p> +<p class="noin" style="text-align: left;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. +For a complete list, please see the <span style="white-space: nowrap;"><a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</span></p> +<p class="noin">Click on the images to see a larger version.</p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/frontis.jpg" width="85%" alt="A Ford Car Can't Do This" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">A Ford Car Can't Do This<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h1>Grenfell:</h1> +<h2>Knight-Errant of the North</h2> + +<br /> + +<h4>By</h4> +<h3>FULLERTON WALDO</h3> + +<h4><i>Author of "With Grenfell on the Labrador,"<br /> +"Down the Mackenzie," etc.</i></h4> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<img border="0" src="images/deco.png" width="8%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h5>PHILADELPHIA<br /> +GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS</h5> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>Copyright, 1924, by<br /> +<span class="sc">George W. Jacobs & Company</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> +Printed in U.S.A.</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<h4><i>To<br /> +MARY CASTLEMAN DAVIS</i></h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="right"><i>December 15, 1923.</i></p> + +<p class="sc noin">Dear Waldo:</p> + +<p>You who have sampled the salt breezes of the North on board my boat, +have, I know, imbibed the spirit that actuates the belief that in a +world like ours we can all be knights. I know that like ourselves, you +look upon the world as a field of honor, and its only durable prizes +the things that we can accomplish in it. You see the fun in it +all—the real joie de vivre.</p> + +<p>Well, we are doing our best, and it is giving us a great return. We +haven't lost the capacity to enjoy soft things, but we have learned +the joys of trying to endure hardness as good soldiers. Would to God +that every American boy would realize that the only real great prize +of life is to be won by being willing to take blows and willing to +suffer misunderstanding and opposition, so long as he may follow in +the footsteps of that most Peerless Knight that ever lived; He who saw +that the meaning of life was, that in it we might, wherever we are, be +always trying to do good.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="padding-right: 10%;">Ever your friend,</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Wilfred T. Grenfell.</span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr /> +<br /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br /> + + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td width="10%" class="tdr">I.</td> + <td width="70%" class="tdlsc"><a href="#I">A Boy and the Sea</a></td> + <td width="20%" class="tdr">11</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#II">School—and After</a></td> + <td class="tdr">22</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#III">Westward Ho! for Labrador</a></td> + <td class="tdr">35</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#IV">Hauled by the Huskies</a></td> + <td class="tdr">74</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#V">Some Real Sea-Dogs</a></td> + <td class="tdr">97</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VI">Hunting with the Eskimo</a></td> + <td class="tdr">114</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VII">Little Prince Pomiuk</a></td> + <td class="tdr">137</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VIII">Captured by Indians</a></td> + <td class="tdr">147</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#IX">Alone on the Ice</a></td> + <td class="tdr">162</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#X">A Fight with the Sea</a></td> + <td class="tdr">183</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XI">The Kidnappers</a></td> + <td class="tdr">201</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XII">When the Big Fish "Strike In"</a></td> + <td class="tdr">230</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XIII">Birds of Many a Feather</a></td> + <td class="tdr">238</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XIV">Beasts Big and Little</a></td> + <td class="tdr">249</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XV">The Keeper of the Light</a></td> + <td class="tdr">264</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XVI">Through the Blizzard</a></td> + <td class="tdr">284</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XVII">Why the Doctor was Late</a></td> + <td class="tdr">296</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> + +<div class="block"><p>The incidents of the first chapter are founded strictly on fact, +but slight liberties have been taken with minor details here and +elsewhere. For example, the Doctor is sometimes represented as +talking with persons whose names stand for types rather than +individuals; and it is the spirit rather than the letter of the +conversations that is reported.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="toi" id="toi"></a><hr /> +<br /> + +<h3>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="List of Illustrations"> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" width="70%"><a href="#frontis">A Ford Car Can't Do This</a></td> + <td class="tdr" width="30%"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep036">Map of Labrador</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 36</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep094">Castles and Cathedrals of Ice Afloat</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 94</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep110">Let's Go!</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 110</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep198">"Who Said Halt?"</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 198</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep242">Off Duty</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 242</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#imagep290">Where Four Feet Are Better Than Two</a></td> + <td class="tdr"><i>Facing p.</i> 290</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="I" id="I"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span><br /> + +<h1>Grenfell: Knight-Errant of the North</h1> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>A BOY AND THE SEA</h4> +<br /> + +<p>"I wonder if Jim is ever going to get back! My, isn't it an awful +storm!"</p> + +<p>Wilfred Grenfell, then a small boy, stood at the window of his home in +Cheshire, England, looking out across the sea-wall at the raging, +seething waters of the Irish Sea.</p> + +<p>The wind howled and the snowflakes beat against the window-panes as if +they were tiny birds that wanted to get in.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he pleaded, "can I put on my sweater and my rubber boots and +go down on the beach and see if I can find Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his mother. "But wrap yourself up warmly, and don't stay +long—and don't take any risks, will you, dear?"</p> + +<p>Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Wilf was down the +stairs and out in the roadway, where fishermen watched their little +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>boats as they tossed at anchor riding out the storm.</p> + +<p>Wilf stepped up to a big, grizzled mariner he knew, whom every one +called Andy.</p> + +<p>"Andy, have you seen Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Jim who?"</p> + +<p>"Jim Anderson."</p> + +<p>"Was he the chap that went out in the <i>Daisy Bell</i> about four hours +ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Wilf, trying to control himself, "and he wanted me to go +with him, but——"</p> + +<p>His words were cut short by a great wave that hurled itself against +the wall. The spray leapt high over the stones and drenched Andy and +the boy.</p> + +<p>"It's lucky ye didn't go, boy," said Andy, solemnly. "We're watchin' +for the boat now. My brother was on her, and two cousins o' my wife. +She was a little craft, and a leaky one. We were goin' to patch her up +an' make her fit. But we waited too long. An' now——" He drew his +rough sleeve across his eyes.</p> + +<p>The wind howled round their ears and the hail was smiting and stinging +as though the storm had a devilish mind to drive them away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>"Why don't you go out in a boat and get them?" pleaded Wilf.</p> + +<p>Andy shook his head. "It ain't that we're afraid," he said. "But there +ain't a boat we have here that could ride those waves. The coast-guard +tried—and now look!" He pointed to a heap of broken, white-painted +timbers lying in the roadway, half-hidden from them by the whooping +blizzard that threw its dizzying veils of snow before their eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's the coast-guard's boat!" exclaimed Andy. "The sea picked her +up, she did, and threw her right over the sea-wall as if she was an +egg, an' mashed her flat. That shows how much of a chance there'd be +for us to get through an' get back, supposin' we could find 'em. No, +boy, we've got to wait."</p> + +<p>"Look!" cried the lad, excitedly. "Please look, Andy. What's that +bobbing up and down in the surf?"</p> + +<p>The fisherman put to his eyes his worn and rusted spy-glass.</p> + +<p>Then he gritted his teeth and bit his lip. "You stay up here on the +road, boy. I got to climb down there and make sure."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>Wilf stood at the sea-wall. He was barely tall enough to look over it.</p> + +<p>He watched Andy clamber painfully down over the great rocks piled high +against the outer face of the wall.</p> + +<p>Every now and then a big wave would rise up, a green monster of +hissing foam and fury, and throw itself on him like a wild animal +trying to scare him back.</p> + +<p>But men of that breed are not afraid. The stalwart figure, though +often knocked down and half drowned, would struggle to his feet again +and go on.</p> + +<p>Wilf saw Andy pick up the—yes, it was a body—and put it on his +shoulder, and come staggering toward the rocks. Then he clambered +tediously over the stones, and Wilf saw whose body it was that Andy +was carrying.</p> + +<p>It was his boy friend Jim, who had gone out only a few hours before, +with the sun on his fair hair, laughing and whistling and shouting his +gay farewell. "Be back in a little while, Wilf! Bring you a nice big +fish for your supper. You want to have a good hot fire ready to cook +it Better change your mind and come along." <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>Never again would he hear +that cheery hail of invitation to adventure.</p> + +<p>Andy laid the little half-frozen figure down, carefully, tenderly, +beside the wall.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" he said, "too bad! But the sea can be terrible cruel to the +sons o' men. I wonder we keep goin' back to her as we do. Now I got to +take the poor boy to his mother."</p> + +<p>He picked up the body, and trudged off into the storm, toward the +fishing-huts.</p> + +<p>Wilf went back to his own house, thinking about the sea and how cruel +it had been.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, as they sat together talking over the tragedy, +"isn't it queer that you can have such fun with the sea sometimes, +swimming in it and rowing on it, and then all of a sudden it gets mad +and kills somebody you love? Just suppose I'd gone out in the boat +with Jim!"</p> + +<p>Wilf thought it fine fun to go swimming, with the strong salt breeze +to dry him off like a towel afterwards. In his ears the crying of +sea-birds against grey clouds was the sweetest of music. He loved to +have the surf knock him about, and the sun burn him red, and he didn't +mind if pink jellyfish stung him now and then or a crab got <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>hold of +his toes. The roar of the surf sang him to sleep at night like an old +nurse.</p> + +<p>One day when the spring came, Wilf went out on the salt marshes, his +gun over his shoulder, to shoot wild ducks.</p> + +<p>He was a regular water-baby.</p> + +<p>Round about him all sorts of sea-birds were wheeling and crying. The +swift tidal currents found their way up-stream through the marshes.</p> + +<p>Wilf, hot and tired, threw the gun on the sand, took off his clothes, +and plunged into the clear, cold water.</p> + +<p>It carried him along like a boat, and he clambered out on a green +island.</p> + +<p>"It's just like Robinson Crusoe!" he told himself. "Here I am, all +alone, and nobody in sight. I can do just as I please!"</p> + +<p>He ran up and down in the sunlight, laughing and shouting in the wind +and throwing his arms about.</p> + +<p>How good it felt to be alive!</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll go back and get the gun," he said, "and see if I can't +shoot one of those wild ducks. I'll make mother a present of it for +dinner to-night."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>It wasn't so easy to swim back. He had to fight against the current +that had carried him to the little green island.</p> + +<p>It was less effort to leave the stream and scramble through the reeds +along the muddy bank.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a stone or a shell hurt his foot, but he only laughed and +went on.</p> + +<p>"You just wait, you ducks," he said. "You'd better look out when I +begin to shoot!"</p> + +<p>He came to where the gun lay on his clothes, where he had been careful +to place it so that no sand would get into the muzzle.</p> + +<p>He loaded it and fired, and it kicked his bare shoulder like a mule.</p> + +<p>But he had the satisfaction of seeing one of the ducks fall into the +water, where the stream was at its widest, perhaps a hundred feet from +the bank.</p> + +<p>Here the water ran swift and deep, and it was going to be a hard fight +to get that bird.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had Rover with me now!" he told himself. Usually the dog +went with him and was the best of company,—but this time he must be +his own retriever.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>He plunged into the stream again and swam with all his might toward +the bird.</p> + +<p>If he had been getting it for himself, he would have been tempted to +give up. But he couldn't bear to quit when he thought of what a treat +it would be for the whole family—a nice, fat, juicy, wild duck.</p> + +<p>The bird was being carried rapidly up-stream by the force of the +waters.</p> + +<p>"No, sir!" said Wilf to something inside him that wanted to go back. +"We're going to get that bird if we have to swim half-way across +England!"</p> + +<p>It was almost as if the bird had come back to life. It seemed to be +swimming away from him.</p> + +<p>Painfully, inch by inch, he began to gain on it. At last, when his +strength was all but gone, he caught up with it, and clutched the +feathery prize. Then he swam with it to the shore.</p> + +<p>Panting and happy, he lay down on the bank a moment to rest.</p> + +<p>"The family won't have to go without dinner after all!" he laughed.</p> + +<p>He grabbed the duck by the feet, flung it over his shoulder, and +trotted back to his clothes and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>the gun. It was fun to go home with +the bird that he had shot himself. But if there had been no bird, he +would have been whistling or singing just as happily.</p> + +<p>On one of his birthdays he was out in the wide, lonely marshes five +miles from home. It was more fun for him to go hunting, barefoot, than +to have a party with a frosted cake and twinkling candles. So, as the +nicest kind of birthday present, he had been given the whole day, to +do just as he pleased.</p> + +<p>To-day, as there was still on the ground the snow of early spring, he +wore shoes, but it was cold work plashing about in those slimy pools +and the slippery mud among the sedges.</p> + +<p>The birds he was after especially were the black-and-white "oyster +catchers," which when it was low tide would always be found making a +great racket above the patches of mussels which formed their favorite +food.</p> + +<p>They were handsome birds, with gay red bills, and a bunch of them made +a fine showing when the little hunter carried them home over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>This time he had shot several of the birds, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>then the problem was +to get them and bring them in.</p> + +<p>There they lay—away off yonder, on a little tuft of, the coarse green +meadow-grasses, but between the hunter and the game was a swirling +inlet of salt water, and he couldn't tell by looking at it how deep it +was.</p> + +<p>So, gun over shoulder, he started cautiously to wade out toward that +birthday dinner he meant to bring home.</p> + +<p>First it was calf-deep—then knee-deep—then nearly waist-deep.</p> + +<p>The cold water made his teeth chatter, but he didn't care about that. +All he thought of was the precious gun. That was his chief treasure, +and his first joy in life.</p> + +<p>Deeper he went, and nearer he got—the gun now held in both hands high +over his head, as he floundered along.</p> + +<p>And just then a dreadful thing happened.</p> + +<p>He stepped into a hole, and it suddenly let him down so that the water +was over his head, and his up reached arms, and the precious gun too!</p> + +<p>In the shock and the surprise, he let go of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>weapon, and it sank +out of sight. He had no fear of drowning, and he struck out manfully +when he found himself in the deep water.</p> + +<p>But he had to give up the idea of finding the gun, and the birds were +left where they lay on the farther side of the treacherous channel.</p> + +<p>It was a long, hard run home, over those five wet and freezing miles, +and the boy's heart was heavy because of the loss of that pet gun.</p> + +<p>All the while he was learning everything that outdoors could teach +him, and he owes to that breezy, sun-shot, storm-swept gipsying during +the summer vacations the beginning of the stock of good health that +has made him such a strong, useful, happy man, able to do no end of +hard work without getting tired, and always finding it fun to live.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="II" id="II"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>SCHOOL—AND AFTER</h4> +<br /> + +<p>This Robin Hood kind of life in the open went on till Wilf was +fourteen. Then he was sent away to Marlborough College—a boy's school +which had 600 pupils. Marlborough is in the Chalk Hills of the +Marlborough Downs, seventy-five miles west of London. The building, +dating from 1843, is on the site of a castle of Henry I.</p> + +<p>The first day Wilf landed there he looked about him and felt pretty +forlorn.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I'll ever get to know all those boys?" he asked himself.</p> + +<p>When he was at home, he had a room all his own or shared one with his +brother. Here it was so different.</p> + +<p>He counted the beds in his dormitory. There were twenty-five of them. +"How can a fellow ever get to sleep in such a crowd?" he wondered. +"Perhaps they'll toss me in a blanket, the way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>they did in 'Tom Brown +at Rugby.' Well, if they try anything like that, they'll find I'm +ready for them!"</p> + +<p>He felt the mattress. "Pretty hard compared with the beds at home, but +no matter. Let's see what the schoolroom is like."</p> + +<p>So he went into the "Big School" as it was called. Three hundred boys +were supposed to study there.</p> + +<p>"Gracious!" exclaimed Wilf. "Don't see how a fellow ever gets his +lessons in a place like this."</p> + +<p>It was as busy and as noisy as a bear-garden. Here and there a boy +with his hands over his ears was really looking at a book. But most of +the boys were talking, laughing, singing as if there were no such +thing as lessons.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a master might look in, or a monitor would wander down the +aisle. But most of the time there was nothing to keep a boy from +following his own sweet will.</p> + +<p>"I say, Smith!" one called out, "lend me a shilling, will you? I want +to buy Grisby's white rat, and I haven't got enough." A fat boy who +looked as if he thought mostly of meal-times was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>telling everybody in +his neighborhood: "I've just got a box from home. Jam and fruitcake +and gooseberry tarts. Come and see me to-night in the dormitory, you +fellows."</p> + +<p>Somebody else called out: "My knife's so dull I'll never get my name +carved on this desk. Give me your knife, Willoughby: it's sharper."</p> + +<p>There were boys having fencing-matches with rulers across the aisle. +There were others who took no end of pains to make paper arrows, or +spitballs that would stick to the ceiling. In the corners of their +desks might be bird's eggs in need of fresh air. Some of the boys were +reading adventure stories, covered up to look like school-books.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this Babel, you were expected to get your lessons as +well as you could.</p> + +<p>When it came to meal-times, you went into what was called "Big Hall," +where four hundred boys ate together.</p> + +<p>The beef was tough enough to make a suitcase: the milk was like chalk +and water: the potatoes would have done to plaster a ceiling or cement +a wall. How different it all was from the good though simple fare at +home!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>"Want to join a brewing company?" asked the boy across the table.</p> + +<p>"What's a brewing company?" inquired Wilf.</p> + +<p>"We buy sausages and cook 'em in saucepans over the fire—when we can +find a fire."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can count me in," said Wilf. So it didn't make so much +difference after that, if he couldn't eat what was set before him at +the table.</p> + +<p>But usually the boys brought robust appetites to their meals, for they +went in heavily for all forms of athletics. The boys who didn't make +the teams had to drill in the gymnasium or run round and round an open +air track a mile and a half long. If you shirked, the boys themselves +saw to it that you got punished.</p> + +<p>When Wilf came home to Cheshire for the long vacations he found some +poor little ragamuffins who had no fun in their lives, and started a +club for them in his own house. There were no boy scouts in those +days, when Sir Robert Baden-Powell and Ernest Thompson Seton were +little boys themselves. It was just taken for granted that boys would +be boys, and it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>hoped that they would grow up to be good men, if +after school hours they were allowed to run loose in the streets. But +Grenfell had a different idea.</p> + +<p>He turned the dining-room on Saturday evenings into a gymnasium.</p> + +<p>He pushed aside the table and chucked the chairs out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Now any of you fellows who want to can get busy on the parallel +bars," he told them, "or if you like you can go out into the back yard +and pitch quoits. I'll take on anybody who wants to box with me."</p> + +<p>The boys thought it was heaps of fun. They could hardly wait for +Saturday night to come, because it meant the rare sport of banging +another boy in the nose, which was much more satisfactory than +throwing stones at a policeman.</p> + +<p>After he was big enough, he used to go to lodging-houses where men +slept who were down and out. He knew that drink had brought them low, +and he wanted to show them better things to do.</p> + +<p>The saloon-keepers were against him from the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>start. He was depriving +them of some of their best customers.</p> + +<p>"You're spoiling our business," they grumbled.</p> + +<p>At last they made up their minds they would "get" him.</p> + +<p>They collected a "gang" and one night they locked the door, backed up +against it, and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Come on, young feller! We're goin' to fix you!"</p> + +<p>They rolled up their sleeves, clenched their fists, and sailed into +him full-tilt like a big, angry crowd of human bees.</p> + +<p>Grenfell was ready for them. It was like a fight in the movies.</p> + +<p>He had kept himself in fine condition, for he was in training to play +football and he was known to be a first-rate boxer.</p> + +<p>They flew at him, roaring to encourage one another. There were six or +eight of them, but they were afraid of his fists.</p> + +<p>"Come on, boys!"</p> + +<p>"Hit 'im a good 'un, Bill! 'E's spoilin' our business, that's what +'e's doin'."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>"Push in his face. 'Ammer 'im good 'n' proper!"</p> + +<p>"We'll show 'im what's what!"</p> + +<p>"'E's a noosance. Le's get rid of 'im. Lemme get at 'im once. I'll +show 'im!"</p> + +<p>So they came on, clumsy with drink, but their maudlin outcries didn't +scare Grenfell a bit.</p> + +<p>He was waiting for them,—cool, quiet, determined.</p> + +<p>Their diet was mostly bad ale and beer, or whiskey: Grenfell was all +muscle, from constant exercise and wholesome diet—the roast beef of +old England, whole wheat bread, plenty of rich milk.</p> + +<p>They were no match for him.</p> + +<p>On they came, one after another. The first lunged out heavily; +Grenfell parried the blow with his right hand and landed his left on +the jaw. The ruffian fell to the floor like a log of wood and lay +there. As he fell, he clutched at the corner of the table and +overturned it with a mighty crash on top of him.</p> + +<p>The second man got a blow on the nose that sent him over to the corner +to wipe away the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>blood. The rest Grenfell laid out flat on the floor +in one, two, three order.</p> + +<p>They came at him again, those who were able to go on. They got their +arms around him but he threw them off. They kicked him and he knocked +them down again. They bit and clawed and scratched and used all the +foul tactics that they knew.</p> + +<p>They tried to get him from both sides—they rushed at him from the +front and the rear at the same time.</p> + +<p>Agile as a cat he turned and faced them whichever way they came, and +those quick, hard fists of his shot out and hit them on the chin or on +the nose till they bled like stuck pigs and bawled for mercy.</p> + +<p>Grenfell stood there amid the wrecked furniture, his clothes torn, +bleeding and triumphant. "Want any more?" he smiled.</p> + +<p>When they saw that all combined they were no match for this wildcat +they had roused to action, they said:</p> + +<p>"Well, le's call it quits. Le's have peace."</p> + +<p>They never tackled him again. They didn't know much, to be sure, but +they knew when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>they had had enough of "a first-class fighting man."</p> + +<p>Then Grenfell started camping-parties with poor boys who hadn't any +money to spend for holidays. The first summer he had thirteen at the +seashore.</p> + +<p>A boy had to take a sea-bath before he got his breakfast. No one could +go in a boat unless he could swim. The beds were hay-stuffed burlap +bags. A lifeboat retired from service was more fun than Noah's Ark to +keep the happy company afloat for a fishing-party or a picnic.</p> + +<p>Next year there were thirty boys: then the number grew to a hundred, +and more. Not one life was lost. How they loved it all! Especially +when the boat, twelve boys at the oars, came plunging in, on the +returning tide, with the boys all singing at the top of their voices:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here we come rejoicing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pulling at the sweeps"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">to the rhythmic tune of "Bringing in the Sheaves." Then, when the +boat's keel slid into the sand, it was a mad rush for the best supper +boys ever ate.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>His school days over, instead of going to Oxford University, Grenfell +chose to enter the London Hospital, so as to take his examinations at +London University later, and become a doctor.</p> + +<p>While Grenfell was in the hospital, murder was quite the fashion in +London. Many a time his patients had a policeman sitting behind a +screen at the foot of the bed, ready to nab them if they got up and +tried to climb out of a window.</p> + +<p>One day, Sir Frederick Treves said to him: "Go to the North Sea, where +the deep-sea fishermen need a man like you. If you go in January, you +will see some fine seascapes, anyway. Don't go in summer when all of +the old ladies go for a rest."</p> + +<p>Grenfell turned the idea over and over in his mind. He had always +loved the sea and been the friend of sailors and fishermen. He liked +the thought of the help he could be as a doctor among them. So he +decided to cast in his lot with the fishermen who go from England's +East Coast into the brawling North Sea.</p> + +<p>Yarmouth, about 120 miles northeast of London, is the headquarters of +the herring <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>fisheries, which engage about 300 vessels and 3,000 men. +A short distance off the shore are sandbanks, and between these and +the mainland Yarmouth Roads provides a safe harbor and a good +anchorage for ships drawing eighteen or nineteen feet of water.</p> + +<p>So one pitch-black and rainy night Grenfell packed his bag and went to +Yarmouth. At the railway-station he found a retired fisherman with a +cab that threatened to fall apart if you looked at it too hard. They +drove a couple of miles alongshore in the darkness, and found what +looked like two posts sticking out of the sand.</p> + +<p>"Where's the ship?" asked Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"Those are her topmasts," answered the sea-dog. "Tide's low. The rest +of her is hidden by the wharf."</p> + +<p>Grenfell scrambled over a hillock and a dim anchor-lantern showed him +the tiny craft that for many days and nights was to be his tossing +home in the great waters.</p> + +<p>In answer to his hail, a voice called back cheerily: "Mind the +rigging; it's just tarred and greased."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>But Grenfell was already sliding down it, nimble as a cat, though it +was so sticky he had to wrench his hands and feet from it now and +then.</p> + +<p>The boat was engaged in peddling tobacco among the ships of the North +Sea fishing-fleet, and for the next two months no land was seen, +except two distant islands: and the decks were never free from ice and +snow.</p> + +<p>Aboard many of the boats to which they came the entire crew, skipper +and all, were 'prentices not more than twenty years old. These lads +got no pay, except a little pocket-money. Many of the crew were hard +characters, and the young skippers were harder still. Often they had +been sent to sea from industrial schools and reformatories.</p> + +<p>One awkward boy had cooked the "duff" for dinner and burned it. So the +skipper made him take the ashes from the cook's galley to the +fore-rigging, climb to the cross-tree with the cinders one by one, and +throw them over the cross-tree into the sea, repeating the act till he +had disposed of the contents of the scuttle.</p> + +<p>A boy who had not cleaned the cabin as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>should was given a +bucketful of sea water, and was made to spend the whole night emptying +it with a teaspoon into another bucket, and then putting it back the +same way.</p> + +<p>Most of the boys were lively and merry, and always ready for a lark.</p> + +<p>Grenfell, who has never been able to forget that he was once a boy, +got along famously with them, and was hail-fellow-well-met wherever he +went.</p> + +<p>Once, when he was aboard a little sailing-vessel, he was playing +cricket on the deck, and the last ball went over the side.</p> + +<p>He dived after it at once, telling the helmsman to "tack back." When +the helmsman saw Grenfell struggling in the water, he got so rattled +that it was a long time before he could bring the boat near him.</p> + +<p>At last Grenfell managed to catch hold of the end of a rope that was +thrown to him and climb aboard.</p> + +<p>But the cricket ball was in his hand!</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="III" id="III"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>WESTWARD HO! FOR LABRADOR</h4> +<br /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In eighteen hundred and ninety-two<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grenfell sailed the ocean blue——"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">from Yarmouth to Labrador in a ninety-ton ketch-rigged schooner.</p> + +<p>This wasn't such an abrupt change of base as it sounds, for it meant +that the Royal Mission to the Deep Sea Fishermen, which works in the +North Sea, had decided to send a "Superintendent" to the coast of the +North Atlantic, east of Canada and north of Newfoundland, where many +ships each summer went in quest of the cod.</p> + +<p>If you will look on the map, you will readily see how Labrador lies in +a long, narrow strip along the coast from the mouth of the St. +Lawrence to Cape Chidley. This strip belongs to the crown colony of +Newfoundland, the big triangular island to the south of the Straits of +Belle Isle, and Newfoundland is entirely independent of the Dominion +of Canada. Fishermen when they go to this region always speak of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>going to "the Labrador," and they call it going "down," not "up," when +it is a question of faring north.</p> + +<p>The tract that lies along the north shore of the St. Lawrence, west of +the narrow strip, is also called Labrador—but it belongs to Canada. +Generally "Labrador" is used for the part that belongs to +Newfoundland.</p> + +<p>"Labrador" itself is a queer word. It is Portuguese. It means a yeoman +farmer. The name was given to Greenland in the first half of the +sixteenth century by a farmer from the Azores who was first to see +that lonesome, chilly country. Thence the name was moved over to the +peninsula between Hudson Bay and the Atlantic.</p> + +<p>Cabot sailed along the coast in 1498, but the interior remained unseen +by white men till the Hudson's Bay Company began to plant their +trading-stations and send their agents for furs in 1831.</p> + +<p>Jacques Cartier said Labrador was "the land God gave to Cain," and +that there was "not one cartload of earth on the whole of it." Along +the coast are mountains rising to 7,000 or even <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>8,000 feet. There are +many lakes inland, 50 to 100 miles in length. Hamilton Inlet is 150 +miles long, and from two to 30 miles wide. The Hamilton River which +empties into it, in twelve miles descends 760 feet, with a single drop +of 350 feet at the Grand Falls, the greatest in North America, +surpassing even Niagara.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep036" id="imagep036"></a> +<a href="images/imagep036.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep036.jpg" width="38%" alt="Labrador" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Labrador<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>The population is about 14,500 in more than half a million square +miles. There are some 3,500 Indians, 2,000 Eskimos, and 9,000 whites +(along the coast and at the Hudson's Bay posts).</p> + +<p>It was to such a "parish" that Grenfell came in 1892, that he might +give the fishermen the benefit of his surgical knowledge and practical +experience acquired not only on the land but aboard the tossing ships +in the North Sea.</p> + +<p>A ninety-ton boat is a tiny craft in which to make the voyage across +the Atlantic. Grenfell must have known just how Columbus felt, four +hundred years ago, when he said to the sailors of his tiny caravels +"Sail on! sail on!"</p> + +<p>First there were head winds for eleven days.</p> + +<p>"Wonder if the wind's ever goin' to quit blowin' against us!" muttered +a sailor, as he coiled a rope to make a bed for a dog in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>stern. +"I'm about fed up with this kind o' thing."</p> + +<p>The man to whom he spoke was in his bare feet, washing the deck with +the hose. "What does anybody ever wanna go to Labrador for, anyhow?" +he grumbled back. "It's a lot better in the North Sea. More sociable. +You get letters from home an' tobacco regular. An' you can see +somebody once in a while."</p> + +<p>"Shore leave's no good to a fellow in Labrador," the first man went +on, as he watched the dog turn round and round before lying down. +"Ain't no place to go. No movies nor nuthin', just fish an' rocks an' +people lookin' thin an' half-starved."</p> + +<p>"You ever been there?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I was talkin' with fellows that got shipwrecked there once. +Gee whiz, what's that?"</p> + +<p>"That? That's an iceberg. Didn't you ever see an iceberg before?"</p> + +<p>"No. Looks like a ship under full sail, don't she?"</p> + +<p>To the north out of the grey mist on the water loomed a mountain of +ice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>"Glad we didn't run into the old thing," the dog's friend went on. +"They say what you see stickin' out o' the water's only a small part +of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's right. 'Bout six-sevenths is under water. Lemme tell you, +the fellers that sail a schooner like this up to the fishin' grounds +have gotta know what they're about. Ever hear about the <i>Queen</i> an' +how she got wrecked?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was a fog like it is over yonder, an' the <i>Queen</i> was off +Gull Island, close to Cape St. John. She didn't know where she was. +They didn't have no lighthouse in them days.</p> + +<p>"Well sir, it was December, long toward Christmas an' the wind was +howlin' like a pack o' wolves. The poor little ship—she wa'n't much +bigger'n this here boat o' ours—drove plumb on the rocks.</p> + +<p>"There was six passengers, one of 'em a lady. One of the men was a +doctor—he was her brother.</p> + +<p>"They got off the boat when she drove ashore an' they climbed up onto +the top o' the island. They didn't have nothin' with 'em 'ceptin' only +an old piece of a sail. What was that to feed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>on, all winter? They +knew there wouldn't be anybody comin' that way till the nex' spring.</p> + +<p>"The crew, they stayed on board: they said they was goin' to get off +some o' the stuff for 'em all to eat while they was cooped up on the +island waitin' for spring.</p> + +<p>"But the storm done 'em dirt. The wind came on to blow harder'n ever, +an' pretty soon the sea she just picked up the ship an' hauled her off +and—crickety-crack!—she went slam-bang to pieces on the Old Harry +Shoals. Didn't have no more chance than a paper bag at a picnic. No +sir, there weren't one man saved out o' the whole crowd.</p> + +<p>"So there was them six people stuck up on top o' the rock."</p> + +<p>"Did they have to stay there all winter?"</p> + +<p>"Now you wait a minute. I'm a-tellin' you. Some time 'long in April +there was a hunter come that way duck-shootin'.</p> + +<p>"He shot a duck an' it dropped in the big waves runnin' and jumpin' on +the beach.</p> + +<p>"He got out o' the boat to get it—an' it weren't there!</p> + +<p>"'Mercy on us!' says he. 'I shot that duck <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>just as sure as I'm soaked +clean through. It musta fell right here. What's become o' it? Where's +it gone to?'</p> + +<p>"He looked round and looked round like Robinson Crusoe huntin' fer +somebody. He looked up an' he looked down, an' it wa'n't no use. +Wa'n't no duck there.</p> + +<p>"'It musta been magic,' he says. 'Magic. Somethin' queer about this +place!'</p> + +<p>"Then he sees little pieces o' wood churnin' around in the foam.</p> + +<p>"'What's happened here?' he says to himself. 'Musta been a ship went +to pieces here some time.' 'Cause he found some o' the splinters had +letters on 'em showin' they used to be parts o' boxes, an' pretty soon +he finds a life-preserver that says on it '<i>The Queen</i>, St. John's.'</p> + +<p>"'Guess I'll climb up to the top o' the rock an' take a look,' says +he. So up he climbs, the birds flappin' round him an' screamin' 'cause +they're afraid maybe he's goin' to hurt their eggs.</p> + +<p>"Up an' up he clumb, an' he gets up to the top. The grass is long an' +green an' the soft yellow buttercups is pretty—but what he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>sees +lyin' there in the buttercups ain't pretty at all.</p> + +<p>"Six dead bodies lyin' there stretched out, with the piece o' the old +torn sail over 'em. The bodies is fallin' to pieces, but in the +fingers o' one is some flesh torn out o' the next one to it.</p> + +<p>"Then he finds a little book with writin' in it where one of 'em had +been writin' down as long as he could what happened.</p> + +<p>"Well sir, what the writin' said was this. He couldn't hardly make it +out it was so faint. It said by an' by they drew lots to see who was +to be killed for the rest to eat."</p> + +<p>Here the man with the dog drew a long sigh and said: "That's a fine +kind of a country to be comin' to, ain't it, where things like that +can happen? I'm glad I ain't in Doc Grenfell's rubber boots. He's +goin' to stay. I thank my lucky stars I don't have to. I'll sure be +glad to get back to Yarmouth once more. I used to think it was a hole +in the ground, but it's heaven compared to what we're comin' to."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" said the other, "I ain't finished +tellin' you. Lemme get <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>through. I was sayin', they drew lots, +an'—the lot fell to the lady."</p> + +<p>"They was goin' to eat the lady!" exclaimed his comrade, in horror.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's what they would 'a' done. But her brother he said +he'd take her place."</p> + +<p>"An' then what happened?"</p> + +<p>"They don't know no more after that. The writin' stops there."</p> + +<p>"Say," said the dog-fancier, disgusted, "that's no place to have the +story stop. Get a fellow all strung up and then dump him off that way +without knowin' how it ended."</p> + +<p>The man with the hose began to bind up a leak with a bit of tarpaulin. +"I ain't made it up outa my head," he said. "I'm just tellin' you what +happened. An' it seems to me the story did have an end, all right, +'cause there they were all lyin' stretched out cold the way the hunter +found 'em."</p> + +<p>The listener shivered. "Say, can't you tell us a more cheerful yarn?"</p> + +<p>The story-teller shook his head. "Mos' Newfoundland an' Labrador +stories is like that, Bill," he said. "Grey, like the fog an' the +face <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>o' the sea.—Guess I'll go an' put on some more clothes. This +wind sure does bite clear into the middle o' your bones."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, "an' the sea's gettin' colder every minute. +Say, Jim, I hope the watch'll keep his eyes peeled to-night. I'd sure +hate to run into any o' those there bergs. Don't like the looks o' +that one we seen just now. One o' those'd be enough to send us all to +Davy Jones's locker in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>For five days more they ran on, all the time through dense fog. +Then—the grey mist lifted, and the lovely green of the land appeared. +At least, it looked beautiful after so many days at sea.</p> + +<p>But what was that? Over the evergreens a tall plume of black smoke +rose.</p> + +<p>"The place is burnin' up!" said Bill to Jim.</p> + +<p>"I counted thirteen places where she's on fire. What is that anyway?"</p> + +<p>"That's St. John's," answered Bill, a little proud of his knowledge. +"Capital o' Newfoundland."</p> + +<p>"Where're we gonna land, with this fire goin' on this way?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>"Dunno," said Bill. "We'll run in farther, 'n' then we can see."</p> + +<p>Grenfell was at the prow, looking at the burning city. Some of the +ships had burned down to the water, right at the wharves. Chimneys +were standing up out of the ruins like broken, blackened fingers +pointing at the sky.</p> + +<p>People came running down through the smoke and the flames.</p> + +<p>"Got anything to eat?" they cried.</p> + +<p>"Not much!" shouted back Grenfell. "But what we've got you're welcome +to!"</p> + +<p>"Is there a doctor on board?" was the next hail.</p> + +<p>"I'm a doctor," called Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"Glory be!" came the answer. "There'll be plenty for you to do ashore, +Doctor!"</p> + +<p>So instead of rest and comfort after the long sea-voyage Grenfell and +those with him had to peel off their coats and plunge right in and +help with both hands right and left.</p> + +<p>It was with heavy hearts a few days later that they said good-by and +started north for Labrador where there were people who needed them +even more than the burned-out folk of St. John's.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>They ran across the Straits of Belle Isle, through which the River St. +Lawrence flows to the Atlantic, and the sun flashed on a hundred +icebergs at once, in a glorious procession.</p> + +<p>The seabirds were fighting and crying over the fish.</p> + +<p>The whales were leaping clean out of the sea, as if they were playing +a game and having lots of fun.</p> + +<p>Grenfell laughed aloud as he watched them. "I say, boys," he said to +the sailors, "don't you wish you could jump out of the water like +that?"</p> + +<p>"I wish we had all the oil there is in all them whales!" said Bill, +who had a very practical mind.</p> + +<p>Into the very middle of the fishing-fleet they sailed.</p> + +<p>Flags of welcome were run up to the mastheads of the schooners. There +were about 30,000 Newfoundlanders in the whole fleet, on more than 100 +schooners—and Grenfell's boat was a little bit of a thing compared +with most of them.</p> + +<p>But they all knew that the small boat had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>sailed clear across the sea +to help them, and they all wanted to show how glad and grateful they +were that a real doctor had come to their help.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon the little boats coming from the schooners were flocking +round them like ants about a sugar-bowl.</p> + +<p>One man came after all the rest had gone.</p> + +<p>His boat was little better than a bunch of boards with a dab of tar +here and there.</p> + +<p>For a long time the rower sat still, looking up at Dr. Grenfell, who +leaned over the rail gazing down at him.</p> + +<p>By and by the fisherman broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"Be you a real doctor, sir?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I call myself," answered Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Grenfell."</p> + +<p>"Well, Dr. Greenpeel, us hasn't got no money, but——"</p> + +<p>He stopped.</p> + +<p>"I don't care about the money," Grenfell answered. "What's the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"There's a man ashore wonderful sick, Doctor, if so be you'd come 'n' +see him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>"Sure I'll come!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell was over the rail and in the fisherman's poor tub in a +jiffy.</p> + +<p>He was taken to a mean sod hut.</p> + +<p>The only furniture was a stove that looked like a big tin can burst +open.</p> + +<p>The floor was of stones from the beach: the walls were mud. Six +children were sitting in a corner, about as dirty as the mud walls, +and just as quiet.</p> + +<p>A woman in rags was giving spoonfuls of water to a man who lay on the +one bed coughing till it seemed the poor fellow must cough himself to +pieces.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said the Doctor. "We must fix him up." He didn't tell +the woman that her husband had both consumption and pneumonia.</p> + +<p>He left medicine and food and told the poor wife what to do. Then he +had to go on to others who needed him.</p> + +<p>It was two months before he could come back to this lonely spot—and +then he found outside the hut a grave, covered with snow.</p> + +<p>On that first voyage Dr. Grenfell had to see nine hundred people who +needed his help!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>One was an Eskimo, who had fired off a cannon to celebrate when the +Moravian mission boat came in.</p> + +<p>No wonder he felt like celebrating—for the boat only came once a +year!</p> + +<p>The gun blew up—and took off both of the poor fellow's arms.</p> + +<p>He lay on his back for two weeks, the stumps covered with wet filthy +rags. When Grenfell finally got there, it was too late to save him.</p> + +<p>They do queer things on that coast when they have no doctor handy to +tell them what to do.</p> + +<p>For instance, a baby had pneumonia, and the mother dosed it with +reindeer-moss and salt water, because that was all she had to give it!</p> + +<p>A woman was done up in brown paper so the bugs wouldn't bite her.</p> + +<p>One man set up in business as a doctor and gave his patients a bull's +heart dried and powdered for medicine.</p> + +<p>Another man said he knew how to get rid of boils. "I cut my nails on a +Monday," was his cure.</p> + +<p>They would take pulley-blocks and boil them in water and then drink +the water.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>To tell how the wind blew they would hang the head of a fox or wolf or +a seal from the rafters and watch the way it swung. A wolf or fox +would face the wind, they said, but a seal's head would turn away from +it.</p> + +<p>For rheumatism you must wear a haddock's fin-bone.</p> + +<p>Green worsted tied round your wrist was a sure cure for hemorrhage.</p> + +<p>If you had trouble with your eyes, you ought to get somebody to blow +sugar into them.</p> + +<p>Little sacks full of prayers tied round your neck were a great help in +any sort of sickness.</p> + +<p>A father tied a split herring round his boy's throat for diphtheria.</p> + +<p>This shows what Dr. Grenfell was up against when he came to Labrador +with his "scientific notions" about what ought to be done for sick +people.</p> + +<p>One day, just as the Doctor had cast anchor between two little islands +far out at sea, a little rowboat came to him from a small Welsh +brigantine.</p> + +<p>"Doctor!" a man called out. "Would ye <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>please be so good an' come +ashore an' see a poor girl? She's dyin'!"</p> + +<p>The Doctor didn't need to be urged. He went ashore in the rowboat. In +a rough bunk in a dark corner of a fishing-hut lay a very pretty girl, +about eighteen years old.</p> + +<p>All summer long, poor thing—the only woman among many men—she had +been cooking, mending, helping to clean and dry and salt the fish.</p> + +<p>Nobody asked if she was tired. Nobody asked if she wanted a vacation. +She had done her faithful best—and now, worn out, she was cast aside +like an old shoe.</p> + +<p>One look told the Doctor that she was dying.</p> + +<p>The captain of the brigantine, who was tender-hearted, and really +cared for her, had decided that this was a case of typhoid. He told +the fishermen to keep away—for the germs might get into the fish they +were preparing to send off to market.</p> + +<p>So he had been the nurse. But all he could do was feed her. For two +weeks—during part of which time she was unconscious—she had not been +washed, and her bed had not been changed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>Outside it was a dark night, and the fog hung low and menacing over +the water. The big trap-boat with six men, and the skipper's sons +among them, had been missing since morning.</p> + +<p>The skipper had stayed home to take care of the poor little servant +girl. While he sat beside her wretched bunk, his mind was divided +between her plight and his anxiety for the six men out there in the +angry, ugly sea.</p> + +<p>"I wonder where the b'ys are now," he muttered.</p> + +<p>Then he would go to the door and peer out under his hand into the +night. Nothing there but the dark and the mystery.</p> + +<p>"'Twas time they were back,—long, long ago!" he would say. "'Tis a +wonderful bad night for the fog. I doubt they'll find their way in. I +should 'a' gone out wi' them. But no, she needed me! Poor girl! The +Lord, He gives, an' the Lord He takes away: blessed be the name o' the +Lord!"</p> + +<p>Wiping his eyes on his rough sleeve, the captain came back and helped +the Doctor put clean linen on the bed and wash the poor girl's grimy +face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>She was unconscious now: her life was ebbing fast.</p> + +<p>The captain went to the door again and again. Outside there was no +sound but the low moaning of the night wind in the blackness. The +fishermen, afraid of what the mysterious disease might do for them, +were keeping their distance.</p> + +<p>Suddenly as the captain glanced on the pale face of the girl, he +gasped.</p> + +<p>"She's dead, Doctor, she's dead!" The Doctor felt her heart. It was +true. The spirit of the brave little maid had gone at last beyond the +beck and call of men.</p> + +<p>It was midnight, and over the dim and smoking lamp the captain and the +Doctor decided that the best thing to do was to make a bonfire of the +girl's few poor effects.</p> + +<p>So they took her meagre clothes and miserable bedding out on the +cliffs, piled them, soaked them in oil, and set them afire.</p> + +<p>The flames leapt high and made a beacon to be seen afar.</p> + +<p>Out there on the black face of the deep six hopeless, helpless men in +a trap-boat, groping <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>their way blindly, saw the flames and took heart +again.</p> + +<p>"See!" they cried to one another. "Look there! Up yonder on the +cliffs! They're givin' us a light to steer by!"</p> + +<p>They drove their oars into the yeasty waves again with strength +renewed. Little did they know what it was that had made the light for +them.</p> + +<p>When at last they dragged their boat ashore and hobbled to the hut, +they saw the body of the girl, the lamp, and the captain and the +Doctor making the body ready for the burial. They entered the hut, and +were told what had happened.</p> + +<p>"B'ys," said the foremost, "she's dead. Mary's dead. The last thing +she did was to give us a light to show us the way home. Poor girl, +poor little girl!"</p> + +<p>Once when a small steamer Grenfell was using had broken down, he found +shelter in a one room hut ashore.</p> + +<p>The inmates had few clothes, almost no food, and neither tools nor +proper furniture. There was nothing between them and the Aurora +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>Borealis but ruin and famine. There were eight children. Five slept in +one bed: three slept with the parents in the other bed: Grenfell in +his sleeping-bag lay on the floor, his nose at the crack of the door +to get fresh air.</p> + +<p>They all suffered from the cold, for there was not a blanket in the +house.</p> + +<p>"Where's the blanket I sent you last year?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>The mother raised her skinny arm and pointed about the room to patched +trousers and coats.</p> + +<p>Then she said, with a good deal of feeling, "If youse had five lads +all trying to get under one covering to onct, Doctor, you'd soon know +what would happen to that blanket."</p> + +<p>First thing in the morning, Grenfell boiled some cocoa, and took the +two elder boys out for a seal-hunt.</p> + +<p>To a boy on the Labrador, a seal-hunt is the biggest kind of a lark. +If it is winter, the seals may be caught near their blow-holes in the +ice, and hit over the head with a stick called a gaff. In summer, they +must be shot from a boat.</p> + +<p>One of the boys, when he thought the Doctor was not looking, emptied +the steaming fragrant <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>cocoa from his mug and filled it with water +instead.</p> + +<p>"I 'lows I'se not accustomed to no sweetness," was his excuse.</p> + +<p>The boys proved the jolliest of comrades and the best of huntsmen. In +the nipping wind they rowed the boat where the Doctor told them, so +that he could shoot. He had on a lined leather coat: but they had only +torn cotton shirts and thin jackets to face the raw dampness of the +early morning.</p> + +<p>But they laughed and joked and carried on, and didn't care whether any +seals were found or not. The hunt was unsuccessful. When Grenfell +left, however, he promised the boys they should have a dozen fox traps +for the winter.</p> + +<p>Their eyes shone, and they grasped his hands. It was to them a +princely, a magnificent gift.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, Doctor!" was all they could say. "What can we do for ye?"</p> + +<p>"Go out and catch foxes," said the Doctor. "We'll see what we can get +for them when you catch them."</p> + +<p>Next summer the Doctor, true to his word as always, came back and +found the little house as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>bare and bleak as before. But the boys met +him with the same old broad grins on their faces, cheerful as the +sunrise.</p> + +<p>"See, Doctor!" They flourished the precious pelt of a silver fox. "We +kep' it for youse, though us hadn't ne'er a bit in the house. We +knowed you'd do better'n we with he."</p> + +<p>So Dr. Grenfell said he would try. He went to an island where Captain +Will Bartlett made his home. This Bartlett was the father of "Bob" +Bartlett who captained Peary's ship, the <i>Roosevelt</i>, on the +successful trip to the North Pole in 1909. Father Bartlett was famous +round about for sealing and fishing, and he had not only a thriving +summer trade of his own but a big heart for unfortunate neighbors.</p> + +<p>"Do your best for me, Captain Will," said Grenfell, handing over the +skin.</p> + +<p>"That I will, Doctor!" answered Bartlett heartily. "Drop in on your +way back."</p> + +<p>The Doctor did so—and he found Captain Will had put aside a full +boat-load of provisions of all sorts for the starving family.</p> + +<p>Happy in the thought of the good it would do, Grenfell started back +for the promontory at Big <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>River where he had every reason to expect +the family would be watching for him anxiously.</p> + +<p>As he neared the land—he saw no one moving. The boat was beached, and +the Doctor went up to the house.</p> + +<p>The door was locked: there was no one within hail, though he shouted +again and again.</p> + +<p>Grenfell knew this absence must mean that the whole family had gone to +the distant islands for the fishing.</p> + +<p>So he broke in the door, piled the things he had brought inside, and +wrote a letter.</p> + +<p>"This is the price of your pelt. Put all the fur you catch next winter +in a barrel and sit on the top of the barrel till the spring, when we +are coming back again. Be sure not to let anybody get it from you at a +low price."</p> + +<p>During the winter, accordingly, the family put by the furs that they +got from the animals which the boys caught in their traps. In the +summer, Grenfell took the pelts to the nearest cash buyer, and with +the money supplies were bought in St. John's. The poor fisherman found +that he had more food than he needed, so he sold the surplus, at a +fair profit, to his neighbor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>Year after year this was kept up, and when the father died he left +Grenfell $200 in cash to be divided among the children.</p> + +<p>Thus the Doctor had the satisfaction of bringing this family up from a +blanketless poverty, on the flat brink of starvation, to something +like wealth in a land where a man with fire-wood, lettuce, dogs, +codfish in the sea and a few dollars in hand thinks he is well off and +piously thanks Heaven for his good fortune.</p> + +<p>As for the sealers—the men who stand a chance to make anything are +those who buy what they call a ticket to the ice—that is to say, a +share in a sealing venture—and go out from St. John's in the steamers +or sailing vessels at the beginning of March. The ship has sheathed +wooden sides a foot and a half thick, and is bound with iron at the +bow, to aid in battering the ice-pack. For the auxiliary engine 500 +tons of coal are carried: and a crew of 300 men will use 500 gallons +of water in a day—but the easy way to get more is to boil the ice, so +nobody worries about that. Tragedies of the sealing fleet are without +number. The worst have happened when blizzards caught the men out on +the ice-floes far <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>from their ship. One captain saved all his men by +having them pile up their gaffs and lie down on them for cat-naps. +Then he would make them get up and dance like mad for five minutes, +while he crooned "chin-music" to them. Thus he saved them from +freezing to death. In that storm the <i>Greenland</i> of Harbor Grace lost +52 of her 100 men. Grenfell tells of sixteen fishermen on Trinity Bay +who, without fire or food or sufficient clothing, after thirty-six +hours of suffering dragged their boats ten miles across the ice to the +land.</p> + +<p><i>The Southern Cross</i> in 1914 was coming from the banks with 174 men +and a full load. She was lost with all hands, and her fate remains a +mystery. A life-belt picked up on the Irish coast was all that was +ever recovered from the doomed ship. In the same year the men of the +<i>Newfoundland</i> were caught out on the ice and unable to get back to +the ship. Of the company seventy-seven lost their lives and forty-two +were crippled.</p> + +<p>Two boys and two men were tending seal nets when a "divey" or +snowstorm blew them helplessly to sea. They crashed on an island, but +ere <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>they could land they were blown off again. During the night and +the morning that followed, both men and one of the boys died. The +other boy dressed himself in the clothes of the three who died, and +kept their bodies in the boat.</p> + +<p>They had caught an old harp seal, and he ate its flesh and drank its +blood. On the third day he gaffed another seal as it floated past on a +cake of ice. Then he had another drink of warm blood. Two days later +he killed another seal.</p> + +<p>By that time he began "seeing things." He thought he saw a ship in the +distance. He clambered out of his boat and hobbled five miles over the +ice, only to find that it was not a sail that he had seen, but a +hummock of ice. The only thing to do was to make his way back over the +weary miles to the boat he left.</p> + +<p>On the seventh day, with despair gnawing at his heart, one of the +sealing fleet, the <i>Flora</i>, came in sight.</p> + +<p>It was dark, and this was his one chance of rescue. He shouted with +all his might. But the boat immediately backed as if to leave him.</p> + +<p>He screamed again, and the merciful wind caught up his voice and +carried it to the vessel.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>He shouted once more: "For God's sake, don't leave me with my dead +father here!"</p> + +<p>Then the ship hove to, and when the brave boy was lifted aboard the +watch explained to him:</p> + +<p>"Ye see, lad, the first time we heard ye call we thought it was +sperrits."</p> + +<p>They picked up the boat as well as the boy, and finally put them +aboard another vessel that was going toward the lad's fatherless home.</p> + +<p>Grenfell went out with the sealing fleet and took his full share of +all the hardships of the mariners who from boyhood look on sealing as +life's great adventure. While they are still tiny tads, the boys of +St. John's and the outposts practise leaping across rain-barrels and +mud-puddles. They are looking forward to the time when a running jump +from one cake of ice to another may be the means of saving their +lives. To "copy" is to play the game of follow-my-leader: and so the +boys use the phrase "a good big copy from pan to pan" when they mean +it is a long leap between.</p> + +<p>There is uncontrollable excitement aboard a sealer when the prize is +in sight at last. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>Perhaps the ship has been buffeting the ice for +many weary days, bucking the floes and backing away again with the +lookout in the crow's nest scanning the horizon in vain with powerful +spy-glasses.</p> + +<p>But at last the joyful cry is heard: "Whitecoats!" or "Dere'm de +whitey jackets!" In less time than it takes to tell the men swarm over +the bulwarks with their gaffs and knives and are deployed among the +seals.</p> + +<p>The "whitecoats" are the helpless young ones, mild and innocent as +puppies, with great tears in their eyes and as pettable as woolly +lambs if the sealers did not have to steel their hearts and think of +their own young ones at home. Can you blame the man with the knife, +any more than you blame the butcher who serves your household with +lamb chops, if he goes to the red-handed slaughter with might and +main? Those "whitey jackets" may spell to his family the difference +between starvation and sufficiency if not plenty. He cannot afford to +let sentiment interfere with his grim business.</p> + +<p>The young seals are gaffed without trouble: the old ones are shot. The +adult males are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>called "dogs"—and a "dog" hood seal, brought to bay +and standing up on his flippers like a bear, is an ugly customer. It +needs two men to tackle him, and if they are not careful he will bite +off an arm or a leg in a jiffy. Yet the "dog" takes to the water, if +he can get there, without paying the slightest heed to what becomes of +the mother seal or the young one. He is generally a poor defender of +his own family.</p> + +<p>For the hood seal family consists of but the three. Father—the "dog" +hood—blows a big skin bag over his head when he is attacked, and the +blows of the gaff rain upon it harmlessly. So terrific is his bite, +when he gets a chance at his assailant, that the Newfoundlanders say +the carcass itself can bite after the head has been cut off. A mature +"dog" seal weighs from 600 to 900 pounds.</p> + +<p>Bucking the ice to get at the main herd is a big part of the battle. +Sometimes the skipper shouts: "Bombs out!" Then the blasting powder is +produced, and the cry comes: "Hot poker for the blasts!" The fuse is +then touched off with the red-hot implement. The bomb is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>thrust into +an ice-crevice, whereupon all hands "beat it" as fast as ever they +can—and a little bit faster.</p> + +<p>Then comes a deafening explosion that rocks the ship: and the ice +rains on the deck in chunks, like bursting shells in an artillery +bombardment.</p> + +<p>With all the watchfulness, and the desperate risks the skipper takes +as he drives the vessel into the pack ice, there is an excellent +chance of missing the main herd entirely. An "Aerial Observation +Company," started by a plucky Australian flyer at Botswood, was +successful in showing the sealers of 1922 where to go, by dropping +letters on or near the ships—but they could not make their way +through the ice to the place indicated. During 1923 the fog was so +dense that the sealing-season was almost a failure.</p> + +<p>On his first voyage to the sealing grounds Grenfell saw the seals like +black dots by the thousands, all over the floes as far as the horizon. +The ships butted and rammed their way into the thick of the herd, the +men overjoyed at the prospect of plenty. As soon as the engines +stopped they were over the side, booted and sweatered, in a jiffy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>There was plenty of work for Dr. Grenfell. Many a man twisted his leg +or his ankle as he slipped between the blocks of ice. Presently there +were thirty or forty at a time surrounding him begging him to put some +liniment in their eyes to cure the snow-blindness due to the fierce +glare of the sun upon the ice-fields.</p> + +<p>The Eskimos, not having glasses, use spectacles of wooden discs with +narrow slits, and do not suffer so much—but very few of the sealers +from "the Old Rock," as Newfoundland is called, think to provide +themselves with smoked glasses.</p> + +<p>One day Grenfell was kept busy for a long time rubbing arms and legs +and anointing smarting eyes. The men were nearly all scattered about +on the ice, near and far, when he got through—so he thought he would +drop over the side and watch them at their work. By this time it was +late afternoon.</p> + +<p>Till now, a strong wind had been blowing, and this had kept the ice +packed together. The wind died down and the bits of ice began to "run +abroad" as the sailors say. Grenfell and a dozen men with whom he +found himself were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>far from the ship, and darkness was fast coming +on.</p> + +<p>Of course they had no boat, and the only way they could get back to +the ship was to float on one piece of ice to another. They had no oars +with which to propel themselves—all they could do was to beat the +water with the seal-gaffs.</p> + +<p>This was so slow a process that by and by they gave it up, and decided +to wait for the ship to come and find them. The ship by this time was +out of sight.</p> + +<p>It grew colder and colder after the red sun went down. They had a +little sugar and oatmeal. This they mixed with snow and devoured. Then +they took their "seal bats" and cut them up with their big knives. +They dipped the pieces in the fat of the dead seals, and with these +they made bonfires to let the ship know where they were.</p> + +<p>In the light of the occasional blaze of their beacon fires they played +games to keep from freezing. "Leap-frog" and "one old cat" were the +favorites. Men not accustomed to the toughening Northern life might +have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>whimpering with the piercing cold and the fear of the sea's +anger by this time. Not so with these men.</p> + +<p>The night wore on—and suddenly out of the darkness they heard the +welcome sound of the little steamer crunching her way through the +ice-pack.</p> + +<p>The wrath of the skipper leaning over the bow was almost more terrible +to face than any ice-storm would have been.</p> + +<p>Did he respect the Doctor of the Deep Sea Mission? He did not. His +tongue-lashing included them all.</p> + +<p>"It was the worst blowing-up I ever received since my father spanked +me," says Grenfell with a laugh, remembering that anxious night.</p> + +<p>Later, the skipper came to him. "Doctor," he said, "the truth is I was +that torn in my mind while ye were gone, and that relieved of worry +when I came on ye in the ice-pack, that I do not know the words I may +have used. If I was wicked or profane—the good God forgive me. It was +my upside-down way of saying my gratitude to God for His salvation."</p> + +<p>The Doctor's day's work was not yet ended. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>He clambered down into the +hold, a man ahead of him carrying a candle and matches. In his hand +was a bottle of cocaine solution, for some of the men were suffering +such agonies with the snow-blindness that they were all but out of +their minds. They would moan and toss in frenzy, hardly knowing when +the Doctor came to them.</p> + +<p>"It hurts something wonderful!" they would cry, brave men as they +were. "Can't ye give me something to stop it? 'Twere better dead than +this!"</p> + +<p>It was hard to get down into the hold at all, for the ladders were +gone, and as the vessel rocked the seals and the coal were sloshing +about below-decks where the men lay sprawled among them.</p> + +<p>"Is anybody here?" the Doctor would call, as he poked into a dark +angle.</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>He would try again. "Any one in here?" There might be a fitful wail +from a far corner. Then the Doctor would have to clamber over and +round the casks and throw aside potato sacks and boxes. Sometimes his +patients, in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>sodden stupor, hidden away at the bottom of +everything, could not be found at all.</p> + +<p>In these filthy, reeking holds, enduring all discomforts for the sake +of perhaps a hundred dollars payable weeks hence, the men somehow +recovered from their ailments and throve and grew fat on pork and seal +meat, fried with onions. Whenever the rats were especially noisy, the +wise ones said it meant a gale: but sometimes the rats and the wise +men were wrong. It was no place for a man with a weak stomach, that +gallant little sealing-steamer!</p> + +<p>On Sunday the men religiously refused to go out on the ice, though the +seals tantalizingly frolicked all about them. The seals seemed to know +how the pious Newfoundlander observes the Lord's Day. The animals +stared at the ship and the ship stared back at them. Then in great +glee the seals took to their perpetual water-sports, in which they are +as adept as the penguins of the Antarctic.</p> + +<p>"I have marveled greatly," Grenfell says, "how it is possible for any +hot-blooded creature to enjoy so immensely this terribly cold water as +do these old seals. They paddle about, throw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>themselves on their +backs, float and puff out their breasts, flapping their flippers like +paws over their chests."</p> + +<p>While they lay off Fogo Island, watching the seals, the great pans of +ice, rising and falling with the heaving of the sea, beat on the stout +sides of the <i>Neptune</i> as on a drum-head. Sometimes to avoid an awful +drubbing the <i>Neptune</i> would steam a little ahead, very much as a +swimmer dives into a breaker to cleave it before it combs over and +carries him off his feet. Grenfell himself, loving a bout with "the +bright eyes of danger," left the ship and went out on the ice and +tried to climb one of the bergs, stranded in the midst of the +ice-pack. It was like a living thing striving to fight its way +out—something like a polar bear surrounded by "husky" dogs worrying +him and trying to pull him down.</p> + +<p>As a sky-scraper gives to the wind, the berg was rocked to and +fro—eight feet or so with every wave that struck it. It fell on the +pans like a great trip-hammer, backed away and came on again, the ice +groaning as though it were a living creature in mortal agony. As +pieces fell off into the sea the waves leapt up, the way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>wolves might +leap about a running caribou. In such a battle of the ice with the +ice, a man knows what a pigmy he is, measured against the mightiest +natural forces.</p> + +<p>The <i>Neptune</i> escaped a ramming—but her neighbor, the <i>Wolf</i>, was not +so lucky. The <i>Wolf</i> had rounded Fogo Island in an offshore wind that +treacherously offered her a clear channel close to the land. As soon +as she got round, the north wind, as though a demon impelled it, +brought the ice crashing back and pinned her fast. An immense floe of +ice, massing in upon the doomed ship, piled higher and higher above +the bulwarks.</p> + +<p>"Get the boats onto the pans!" Captain Kean shouted to his men. It is +just what they have had to do on many an Arctic expedition when the +ice has nipped them.</p> + +<p>They took their food and clothes—but Captain Kean, the last to leave +the ship, of course—saved nothing of his own except his life. And it +was the closest possible call for him. Just after he jumped, the ice +opened like the Red Sea parting for the hosts of Pharaoh. Down went +the <i>Wolf</i> like a stone, and as she tossed and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>heaved and gurgled in +her death-throes the ends of her spars caught on the edges of the ice +and were broken off as if they were match-wood. The sea seems to dance +above such a wreck with a personal, malicious vengeance.</p> + +<p>It was the old, sad story for the captain and his men. They would have +to walk ashore, three hundred of them, over the miles of cruel ice. At +home, their wives and children would be waiting and hoping for a grand +success and a good time. Instead, after a forced and weary march of +days,—going perhaps three hundred miles,—with much rowing and +camping, father or brother would stagger in, his little pack of poor +belongings on his sore shoulders, and throw it down, and say with a +great sob: "'Tis all I've brought ye!"</p> + +<p>It is a pitiful thing indeed for a man to have traveled hundreds of +miles to board a ship, in the hope of a few dollars for the risk of +his life, and then to have the sea swallow up his chance, and turn him +loose to the ice and snow, a ruined man. When a captain loses his +ship, whatever the reason, it is almost impossible for him to obtain a +command again.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="IV" id="IV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>HAULED BY THE HUSKIES</h4> +<br /> + +<p>There was great excitement at the little village of St. Anthony, on +the far northern tip of Newfoundland.</p> + +<p>Tom Bradley was coming back from a seal-hunt, and his big dogs Jim and +Jack were helping him drag a flipper seal big enough to give a slice +of the fat to every man, woman and child in the place.</p> + +<p>Tom had a large family, and for nine days they had tasted nothing but +a little roasted seal meat.</p> + +<p>Finally Tom took his gun down from the nails over the door. It was a +single-barrel muzzle-loader, meant for a boy, but he was a good shot, +and had often wandered out alone over the frozen sea and come back +with a nice fat bird or even a seal to show for it.</p> + +<p>"Where be you goin', Tom?" asked his anxious wife.</p> + +<p>"Out yonder." He jerked his thumb toward the wide white space of the +ice-locked ocean.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>She ran to get his warm cap and mittens. "When'll you be back?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno. Not till I get a seal. Us has got to have somethin' to eat, +an' have it soon."</p> + +<p>She found an old flour-bag, and tied up in it a few crusts of bread.</p> + +<p>"You'd ought to keep this here," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"No, Tom. You can't hunt without nothin' to eat. We'll manage somehow. +We'll borrow."</p> + +<p>"Ain't nobody to borrow from," answered Tom. "Ain't nobody round here +got nothin'. We uns is all starvin'. Hope Sandy Maule's letter gits to +that there Dr. Grenfell."</p> + +<p>"Who's Dr. Grenfell?"</p> + +<p>"He's a doctor comin' out here from England. He's goin' to help us."</p> + +<p>"Will he have anythin' to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—he'll have suthin'. But he's got lots o' friends in England an' +America—an' he can get 'em to send things."</p> + +<p>"What'd Sandy Maule write?"</p> + +<p>Tom was poking a bit of greasy cloth through the gun with a ramrod. +Everything depended on the way that gun worked. He mustn't miss a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>shot—there was no fun in that long, hard hunt on the ice that lay +ahead of him.</p> + +<p>"Sandy Maule wrote, 'Please, Doctor, come and start a station here for +us if you can. My family and I are starvin'. All the folks around us +are starvin' too. The fish hain't struck in and bit like they should. +We're cuttin' pieces outa the sides o' our rubber boots an' tyin' 'em +on for shoes.' Things like that, Sandy writ to the Doctor."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bradley drew the sleeve of her thin, worn calico dress across her +eyes. She was a brave woman, but her strength was nearly gone. She did +not want her husband to see her cry.</p> + +<p>"It's all of it true," she said. "If I could only get a little fresh +milk to give the baby! Might as well ask for the moon."</p> + +<p>She did not speak bitterly. She would stay by her man and live for her +children to the end.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Tom, trying to sound matter-of-fact, "we'll go out with +the ole gun an' see what we get." Not one of the little boys was old +enough to go, but the dogs Jim and Jack leaped up, wagging their tails +and fawning upon their master.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>Tom had only part of a dog-team: when he or his neighbors made a long +trip they borrowed from one another. What one had, they all had.</p> + +<p>As Tom stood looking at the dogs, he couldn't help thinking: "One of +those dogs would keep the family alive for a while. But I sure would +hate to kill one of the poor brutes. They've been the best friends we +ever had." His wife knew what he was thinking, though the dogs did +not.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke. "Gimme a kiss, wifey." He smiled at her brightly. +"Cheer up. This little ole gun and me'll bring ye enough to eat for a +long time."</p> + +<p>She kissed him, and off he trudged, the dogs leaping beside him and +trying to lick his mittened hands.</p> + +<p>Away out yonder on the ice was a little black speck. He strained his +eyes to see.</p> + +<p>"There's one!" he muttered. "Now, how to get up near enough. If the +dogs comes with me they'll sure scare it away—it'll go poppin' into +its old blow-hole afore I kin git it."</p> + +<p>Jim and Jack were sitting on the bushy plumage of their tails, their +bright eyes fixed on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>their master, waiting for orders. They would +have loved it had he told them to chase that black speck far out at +sea. They would have gone on till they dropped, at his lightest word.</p> + +<p>"No, boys, you wait here," he said. "You're goin' to help me haul it +back—when I get it. But gettin' it is somethin' I gotta do all by my +lonely. Now, you stay right here an' wait for me. Don't you dast to +come no nearer!" He shook his finger at them solemnly.</p> + +<p>They seemed to understand. They curled up and lay down in the thin +powdery snow-blanket.</p> + +<p>"Now then," muttered Tom, "I gotta creep an' creep an' crawl an' crawl +till I get near, an' then I gotta lie down an' scrape along on my +tummy same as if I was a seal myself. That's what I gotta do."</p> + +<p>Suiting the action to the word, he started on, watching all the time +that little dark spot on which all depended.</p> + +<p>He could imagine the children waiting at home and asking their mother +every little while: "When's Papa comin' back? Is he goin' to bring us +somepin' to eat?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that there Grenfell man is ever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>goin' to git this far +north?" Tom asked himself as he crept toward the seal. "If us could +only git a chance to sell our fish for better'n two cents a pound, +after us gets 'em salted an' dried! Them traders, they bleeds the life +outa us. They say Grenfell when he comes is a-goin' to fight them +traders an' put 'em outa business!"</p> + +<p>The swift wind was throwing stinging bits of ice, sharp as needles, in +his face. He drew his cap about his ears more closely and plodded on. +The further he walked the further away the seal seemed to be. He was +half crouching as he walked: he wished he might cover himself with a +skin and crawl on all fours. But if he started to crawl now—he felt +as though it would be a year before he could get near enough to shoot.</p> + +<p>"Please, God"—he spoke to God as naturally as to his family—"bless +this ole gun an' make her shoot straight and he'p me knock that seal +over, the first shot. For it don't look like there's goin' to be +more'n one shot, an' if I don't kill her there's my whole family's +goin' to starve and mebbe a whole lot o' other people that's a-lookin' +for what they think I'm a-goin' to bring back."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>Now it was time to flatten himself down on the ice and scrape along, +like another seal. It was hard work—try it yourself, if you don't +think so!—and it took lots of patience.</p> + +<p>Now he could see the seal raise its head and look about. He mustn't +give it a chance to ask questions of the wind, because the wind might +say: "Look out, Mr. or Mrs. Seal! There's a man creeping and creeping +toward you with a gun, and in a minute that man is going to shoot, and +you'll be sorry you hung around here and didn't dive through the ice +the very first second your nose told you you'd better!"</p> + +<p>He raised his gun, and prayed again—this time a very short prayer: "O +Lord, bless this gun!" And he fired.</p> + +<p>The black spot had not vanished. It was motionless. "Did I hit him?" +Tom asked himself. "Better try another shot an' make sure."</p> + +<p>He was a long time sighting—and he imagined the spot moved a little +as he did so.</p> + +<p>Then he fired again.</p> + +<p>There it was still. Now he dared to believe he had hit the seal. +Dragging the gun he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>crawled nearer and nearer. Still the seal did not +move.</p> + +<p>Now he could see the whole animal clearly.</p> + +<p>The sight was joyful.</p> + +<p>"Glory be!" he shouted. Then he jumped up and capered about madly on +the ice. It was a nice, fat, luscious, flipper seal and dead as a +door-nail. Enough for a banquet for all of the tiny village of St. +Anthony. And if Dr. Grenfell should be there when he and the dogs got +back with it, the Doctor should have the largest, tenderest, juiciest +steak of all.</p> + +<p>The wind was setting toward the dogs. He could barely see them there, +far, far behind him—making a black spot where they slept, exactly as +though they were another seal.</p> + +<p>So he put two fingers to his lips and blew a long, shrill blast.</p> + +<p>It was the signal for which they had been waiting. On they came like +two wild young race-horses, each eager to be first to greet their +master.</p> + +<p>They must have known well enough that he had killed the seal. They had +hunted with him so often that if they had been human the man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>and the +dogs could hardly have spoken to each other and understood better.</p> + +<p>"Good old Jim! Good old Jack!" The dogs bounced round him like india +rubber, mad with delight.</p> + +<p>"Look what we gotta take back! Ain't that somethin' to make the old +lady's eyes pop outa her head? First big seal's been caught off here +for months! Enough to save the whole village from starvation. An' you +dogs is to have some of it too, all o' you. Here's to begin with!"</p> + +<p>He drew his clasp-knife and snicker-snacked two good-sized bits from +the tail of the fallen monarch. He threw the meat to the dogs, who had +it down in a gulp and a swallow and then stood with their ears up, +like the Jack-in-the-pulpit, to know if there would be more.</p> + +<p>"No, boys, that's enough to start back on!" He produced straps and +ropes from the bread-bag and rigged up a harness so that the dogs +might haul the seal, giving himself the end of a rope, to pull more +than his share of the heavy carcass.</p> + +<p>"Wisht we could git a coupla polar bears too!" he laughed. "But I +don't know how we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>could pull to the shore any more'n what we got +here. Well, when we've got this et we'll be comin' back fer more, +won't we, boys?"</p> + +<p>And the dogs, tugging and wagging as they plodded shoreward, seemed to +agree.</p> + +<p>In spite of the weight of the seal, the trip back did not seem nearly +so long. For you know how it is—when your heart is light any burden +you carry doesn't count for nearly so much.</p> + +<p>Tom Bradley in spite of pulling so hard was singing to himself like a +kettle on a stove. And the dogs, too, would have spared breath to bark +joyously, if huskies ever barked. But no well-bred husky makes remarks +of that sort.</p> + +<p>Tom stopped to rest, and sat on an ice-hummock, the dogs with their +heads against his knee, their tongues lolling out.</p> + +<p>"'Member that time we chased the ole bear?" he laughed. "That was the +time I couldn't do nothing with you! You was young dogs then, an' you +got so excited you wouldn't listen to nothin'!</p> + +<p>"You just went a-racin' an' a-tearin' on from the time you seen 'im. +O' course, as a driver don't have no reins, an' we only got a whip, +we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>can't pull you up if you really wanta go. We can just holler +'left' an' 'right' an' 'stop' an' 'go ahead.' But my oh my! We sure +did stack up against trouble that day.</p> + +<p>"You an' the rest o' the team, you waded right into that bear before +I'd got you cut loose from the traces. The air was full o' bear-meat +an' dog-fur flyin'. Guess the bear didn't know no difference between +you an' wolves. There's many a man has made the same mistake.</p> + +<p>"There was old Mr. Bear standin' up on his hind legs battin' away like +he was wound up, handin' out punishment like it was a boxin' match, +and you fellows hollerin' bloody murder.</p> + +<p>"You done more'n wolves would 'a' done. Wolves wouldn't 'a' tackled a +bear that way—unless it was a great big crowd o' wolves an' one lone, +lorn, small bear.</p> + +<p>"He was a buster, he was, an' there was only six o' you. But you stood +right up-ta him all right! You remember, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Jim and Jack flopped their tails on the ice as if to say yes. Their +mouths were wide open—it looked as if they were laughing in delight +to be reminded of the battle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>"Say, you dogs certainly are the willin', hard-workin' fellers when +you're fed up right. I believe you'd rather haul a sled than eat. You +rascals! 'Member the time you et my gloves just as I was goin' to +start? I had to larrup outa you that trick you had when you was young +o' gobblin' your own harness when you wasn't watched. I sure do hate +to hit you. One o' these whips 'll bite a hole in a door twenty feet +off: I've seen ole Pop Rinker drive a nail in a board with one.</p> + +<p>"When we get back, if that ther Dr. Grenfell has come we'll get some +other dogs an' take him out for a ride. He'll have to have a team o' +dogs. Can't get along in this country without you dogs—not till they +have reindeer. Heaven knows, the Doctor'll have miles and miles o' +country to cover, to get round to all the people hereabouts that needs +him. Ain't it a great an' mighty blessin' this country's now a-goin' +to have a doctor all our own, all our very own?"</p> + +<p>When they got back to the hamlet with their seal, there was a +jollification.</p> + +<p>Tom Bradley could have been Mayor, or King, or anything he wanted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>There was plenty of one thing in that place—and that was fire-wood, +from the spruces and firs alongshore.</p> + +<p>So they built a monstrous pyramid, big enough to cook twenty seals, +and round the community bonfire they collected, dogs and all, for a +feast. The children shouted in glee and clapped their hands. The +mothers were happier for themselves than for their babies. And their +joy was the greater because word had come that Dr. Grenfell was +finding his way in the little steamer, the <i>Julia Sheridan</i>, through a +channel behind the islands and was likely to be in their midst at any +hour of any day.</p> + +<p>Next day, the Doctor came. Such hand-shaking and back-slapping and +outcries of honest pleasure as greeted him! And from the very first +minute there were anxious appeals for his aid.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, would ye please come to see my old woman?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Doctor, she does be took wonderful bad. Sometimes the wind rises +an' it goes all up an' down an' it settles in her teeth an' the pains +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>shoots her in the stummick an' we has to take hold of her arms an' +pull 'em out and she howls like a dog an' we dunno what's the matter. +Would you please come an' see? She's askin' us to kill her she's in +such punishment, but us didn't think us'd ought to do it without +askin' you. Would you please come 'n' see?"</p> + +<p>In that first winter Grenfell was "at home" three Sundays only, and he +had to cover fifteen hundred miles behind the dogs. Sometimes they +were heart-breaking, bone-racking miles. Sometimes they were as smooth +and easy as a skating-rink. But not very often.</p> + +<p>One day he had a run of seventy miles to make across the frozen +country.</p> + +<p>The path was not broken out—it wasn't even cut and blazed.</p> + +<p>Just once had the leading dog made the journey.</p> + +<p>But because he had made it once—they left it all to him to choose the +way to go.</p> + +<p>Straight on the good dog went, never stopping to turn round and look +in the face of the driver, the way dogs will.</p> + +<p>The way—such as it was—took them over <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>wide lakes, and through thick +woods deep-hung with snow.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" called Grenfell. The driver gave the command to the dogs. They +stopped and rested while the men explored.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, the leading dog was right. A climb to the top of a high +tree showed the "leads" and proved to the men that they were traveling +in the right direction: and the compass said so too.</p> + +<p>Again and again they stopped—and every time it proved that the dog +was right.</p> + +<p>On journey after journey of this kind, round about St. Anthony on that +far northern peninsula of Newfoundland, Grenfell and the dogs he drove +got to know and love one another better.</p> + +<p>Grenfell has done seventy-five miles in a day easily: but how far one +goes depends on the state of the ice and snow and the roughness of the +trail: sometimes five miles a day is as much as the dogs, pulling +their very hearts out, are able to cover. Six miles an hour is an +average rate of speed when it is "good going." Once the Doctor made +twenty-one miles in a little more than two hours, over level ice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>The building of the sled, or komatik, is a most important matter. The +Doctor prefers one eleven feet long, of black spruce, with runners an +inch thick, covered with spring steel. With such a sled, and a good +team of dogs attached with proper traces, travel on firm and level +snow is an exhilarating experience. But a thousand and one things may +go wrong, the dogs when not running are forever picking bloody +quarrels, and continual vigilance is the price of a swift, smooth +passage.</p> + +<p>A member of Grenfell's staff had crossed a neck of land between two +bays, and was "twenty miles from anywhere," when his dogs struck the +fresh trail of deer.</p> + +<p>At such times the dogs are likely to take leave of all their senses +save the instinct of the chase. These plucky beasts were no exception +to the rule.</p> + +<p>As they were short of food, the two teams were hitched to one sled, +and the other sled, laden, was left in charge of a boy, while the men +gave chase to the caribou. Like Casabianca on the burning deck, the +boy had been told not to stir from that chilly, lonesome spot.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>But just as the men got under way, a terrible snowstorm sprang up from +nowhere, and so enveloped and bewildered the hunters that for two days +they wandered, till they lost all hope.</p> + +<p>Then, by great good luck, starving and worn out, they came to a little +house many long and weary miles from where the boy was left with the +komatiks.</p> + +<p>They sent a relief team back to find him. There he was, standing by +the sleds like a good, true soldier, just where they told him to +remain. He was bound to be faithful unto death, even though he should +freeze stiff for his obedience to orders.</p> + +<p>Another time, the team was halted in a wood at nightfall, and Grenfell +and his comrades started to walk on snowshoes to the village six miles +distant.</p> + +<p>They lost their way, and found themselves by nightfall at the foot of +steep cliffs which they could not get round, though the village was +hardly more than a mile away and its lights twinkled them a warm +yellow welcome like friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>The only thing to do was to fight their way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>up and over the rocks. As +they came to the top, they found two tired men who knew the way, but +were so weary they had made up their minds to flop down in the snow +for the night.</p> + +<p>But Grenfell started a fire, and served out some bits of sweet cake he +carried: so that presently they took heart to go on. If they had not +done so, they might all have frozen to death in the snow, for the +night was bitterly cold and they were perspiring from their hard work, +so that their clothes were turning as stiff as suits of armor with the +ice. As it was, the whole party reached the village safely, and came +back next day to find the dogs and the sleds and bring them in.</p> + +<p>A lumber mill was started on a bay sixty miles below St. Anthony, and +a boiler weighing three tons was landed and set in place with the +whole neighborhood helping. After Christmas Grenfell decided to make +the run thither with the dogs from St. Anthony.</p> + +<p>There was no trail. Most of the way the journey was through virgin +forest. There were windfalls and stumps and bushes with pointed rocks +amid the snow—offering no end of pitfalls <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>where a man might break +his ankle and lie groaning and helpless as a wounded caribou till he +died.</p> + +<p>Nobody they could find had ever made the trip. But they had to know +without delay how the boiler worked and how the mill was going. So off +they started, gay as a circus parade, telling themselves they would do +the distance in two days.</p> + +<p>Not so. At the end of two days they were still wrangling with mean +little scrub bushes, fallen rotten logs and the pointed rocks +treacherously sheeted with ice and snow.</p> + +<p>If they struggled to the top of a snow-laden spruce for an outlook, +all they saw was more of the same old thing—a scowling landscape of +white-clad woods and lonesome ponds. The compass always seemed to lead +them straight into the thick of the worst places.</p> + +<p>They took the wrong turning to get round a big hill, and found a river +which they thought would lead them to the head of the bay where the +mill stood.</p> + +<p>But the river was a raging torrent, which leapt among the rocks, made +rapids and falls, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>and left gaping holes in the ice into which the +dogs fell, snarling their traces and their tempers and many times +risking a broken leg.</p> + +<p>Still the brave little beasts of burden strained and tugged forward, +encouraged by the shouts of the men.</p> + +<p>They couldn't get away from the river, for the banks were too steep. +By and by they reached a ravine where the water boiled and churned and +raced along in its great rocky trough too rapidly to be frozen, even +by the intense cold that prevailed. It seemed as if they must be +halted here—but that is not the way with men of Newfoundland and the +Labrador.</p> + +<p>The only thing to do was to chop a passage through the ice along the +bank—like making a tow-path for a canal.</p> + +<p>After they had fought their way through the narrows, they yearned for +sleep. So they built a fire, and felled tree-trunks twenty feet long +into it, till they had a "gorgeous blaze." Then they dug holes in the +snow, deep as bear's dens, broke loose from their stiff, icy clothes, +got into their sleeping bags, and slept the sleep of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>the just till +the golden sun warmed them with its morning blessing.</p> + +<p>The rest of the way gave them no trouble. They got a royal welcome +from the hands at the mill. It was such a great event, in fact, that a +holiday was declared, and all hands went "rabbiting." At the end of +the day they built another mighty fire of logs, gathered round it with +steaming cocoa and pork buns, and decided all over again that life was +worth living and that moving a lumber-mill on an Arctic fore-shore is +sheer fun, if you only think so.</p> + +<p>Not long after an experimental fox farm was begun. The farm part of it +is not so hard as the foxes. All you need for the farm is a few poles +and some wire netting.</p> + +<p>They picked up a dozen couples of foxes—red, white, cross, and one +silver pair. A Harvard professor describes moving day when foxes were +being brought on the little steamer to St. Anthony. "Dr. Grenfell at +one time had fifteen little foxes aboard.... Some of these little +animals had been brought aboard in blubber casks, and their coats were +very sticky. After a few days they were very tame and played with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>the +dogs; they were all over the deck, fell down the companionway, were +always having their tails and feet stepped on, and yelping for pain, +when not yelling for food. The long-suffering seaman who took care of +them said, 'I been cleaned out dat fox box. It do be shockin'. I been +in a courageous turmoil my time, but dis be de head smell ever I +witnessed.'"</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep094" id="imagep094"></a> +<a href="images/imagep094.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep094.jpg" width="85%" alt="Castles and Cathedrals of Ice Afloat" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Castles and Cathedrals of Ice Afloat<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Probably the fox farm suffered from too much publicity. A mother +silver fox is one of the scariest of creatures, and is known to "kill +her children to save their lives" when a thunderstorm comes on, or +visitors are alarming. Most fox farms are therefore in the depths of +the woods: and the path to them is kept a dark secret by the owners. +But the farmers at St. Anthony's were green to the business, and they +let the fishermen come in numbers to see the show, not realizing what +the consequences would be. The red and the cross foxes seemed pleased +to entertain guests; not so with the white foxes, and the precious +silver foxes were the shyest of all. Not a pup lived to grow up. Many +were born, but their parents killed them all. By and by, after a +mortal plague broke out among the animals, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>the farm was converted +into a garden with a glass frame for seeding vegetables.</p> + +<p>But others, with more science at their command, developed a profitable +industry in Quebec, Labrador and in Prince Edward Island. In the year +the war began a silver vixen and her brood were sold for ten thousand +dollars. A wild fox, sold for twenty-five dollars, was resold for a +thousand. There is money in the business, properly conducted. For +those who want wild animals to have fair play, there is satisfaction +in the thought that to get fox fur by way of breeding is infinitely +more humane than to get it by way of the trap, whose cruel teeth may +hold the animals through hours and days of suffering till the hunter +comes.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="V" id="V"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>SOME REAL SEA-DOGS</h4> +<br /> + +<p>"Get out o' there, youse!"</p> + +<p>A big raw-boned fisherman with an oar in his hand came running up the +stony beach at Hopedale.</p> + +<p>The door of the little Moravian church was open. So were the windows. +And so were the mouths of a pack of dogs who were yowling their heads +off and trying to kill each other inside the church.</p> + +<p>"That's just the way with them huskies!" panted Long Jim, as he +stumbled up the slope. "Can't leave 'em be ten minutes without their +gettin' into mischief. 'Tis a nice place they picked out for a fight +this time! I'll soon have 'em out o' there! They'll find out the house +o' God ain't no dog-house."</p> + +<p>Swinging his oar right and left he dashed into the church.</p> + +<p>Such a scene as met his eyes!</p> + +<p>The dogs had been tearing the hymn-books <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>apart as if they were slabs +of raw seal-meat. For the Eskimos had been handling the books with +their fingers fresh from cleaning fish and cutting up blubber. So that +to a dog's nose each book smelt and tasted perfectly delicious. As +fast as one dog closed his hungry jaws on a book, another dog, +snarling and yowling, would try to snatch it from him.</p> + +<p>Over and over in the aisles and between the pews they rolled, snapping +and tearing at one another. For the sake of meat they would do murder +any day—and the fact that it was in a church on Sunday meant nothing +to Long Jim's idle, hungry pack.</p> + +<p>"Go on, now! Git outa here!" Long Jim laid about him vigorously with +the oar. Sharp yelps resounded as he thwacked their heads and legs. +One dog took a header into the baptismal font, which was full of stale +water.</p> + +<p>Another tried to climb under the little cabinet organ. But there were +two dogs there already, and one of them bit him in the chest. He +backed away, slobbering and raging.</p> + +<p>Another dog hid under the communion table, but Long Jim found him and +kicked him away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>with his soft furry boots that did no damage to dog +ribs.</p> + +<p>The leaders of the pack, Jock and Sandy, soared out of the window at +the right. Jock landed on his head in the kitchen garden where the +precious cabbages were growing behind high wooden palings. Sandy was +more fortunate, and fell squarely on his feet. Both dogs began to +gobble the soft green stuff just visible above the ground.</p> + +<p>The other dogs came after them, biting and tearing at each other even +while they were scrambling across the window-sill.</p> + +<p>"Long Jim" ran out at the door, and had to tear down a lot of the +stakes before he could drive the dogs out of the garden. When at last +they went, most of the young and precious cabbages went with them. The +garden looked like a mud-pile where children have been in a quarrel.</p> + +<p>"Ain't that a shame!" exclaimed Long Jim. "Them poor Moravian brothers +worked so hard to git that garden goin'! I s'pose I gotta pay for them +hymn-books an' them cabbages. Where I'm a-gonna git the money t' pay +f'r it all, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>I'm blessed if I know! I guess I'll have to see if I can +git the money from Dr. Grenfell till I get paid for my fish."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell was in a cottage near by, visiting a patient. The sick +man couldn't stir from his bed.</p> + +<p>A puff of wind blew the door open, just as the hungry pack of dogs +came rushing up.</p> + +<p>Instantly Jock and Sandy halted, and sniffed a mighty, soul-satisfying +sniff.</p> + +<p>Such a nice, sweet smell of dinner as was blown on the breeze from the +door!</p> + +<p>Their whiskers twitched and their mouths watered.</p> + +<p>Then it was just as if Jock and Sandy said to the other dogs: "Well, +what about it, boys? Shall we have some more fun? Are you hungry?"</p> + +<p>For the whole pack as though pulled by a string made a dash for the +door and swept in on the Doctor and the sick man lying there.</p> + +<p>It was like an avalanche. Dr. Grenfell was swept off his legs, as if +he had been bathing in the surf and a big wave rushed up and knocked +him down.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>The boldest jumped up on the stove, where the stewpot was, that sent +out such a delicious smell.</p> + +<p>He pried off the cover, and then the pot rolled off the stove with a +terrible clatter, and its steaming contents were dumped out on the +floor.</p> + +<p>You could fairly hear those beasts screaming "That's mine! Get out of +there! That belongs to me!" Just like greedy, quarrelsome boys that +forgot their manners long ago, if they ever had any.</p> + +<p>They fought with added fury because—the hot stew burned their noses. +They were in such a hurry they couldn't wait for it to cool. They +snuffled and scuffled, they bit and snarled and snorted, as they had +done in the church with the hymn-books and then with the cabbages in +the vegetable garden.</p> + +<p>One of the dogs thrust his head in the pot to get the last "lickings" +and then he couldn't shake it loose again.</p> + +<p>Round and round the room he banged and struggled, till the Doctor took +pity on him and hauled it off his head.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the house filled with steam as if it were on fire.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>The Eskimos came rushing from everywhere, with shouts in their own +tongue that sounded almost like the cries of the dogs.</p> + +<p>They had long harpoon handles, and they pranced about the room, +thwacking right and left.</p> + +<p>The Doctor was entirely forgotten. So was the sick man. The room was +filled with steam, stew, dogs, harpoons, and blue language.</p> + +<p>At last the dogs were shoved out, and the door was slammed after them.</p> + +<p>"How are you feeling?" said the Doctor to his patient.</p> + +<p>"B-b-better, Doctor. It was a funny show while it lasted. But I guess +they ain't much left o' that there stew, is there?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor laughed. "No—our dinner is wrecked. A total loss!"</p> + +<p>The door opened slowly. Long Jim stood there in the doorway, fumbling +his hat in his hand. "Awful sorry about them dogs, Doctor," he +muttered. "They just seem to ha' gone clean crazy. They ain't had +nothin' to eat for so long, you see. They're good dogs when they ain't +hungry. Would you—would you lend me the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>money to pay for them +hymn-books an' cabbages an' the stew till I can pay ye back?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right, Jim!" answered the Doctor. "All told, the +damage won't amount to much. I'll fix it up. Dogs will be dogs."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, Doctor," said Jim, simply. But he was deeply grateful. He +went out after his dogs to make them quit rampaging and take their +places in the team.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," said the sick man, "I minds me o' the time one o' them +missionaries put a young dog in the team ahead o' the old leader. Did +ye ever hear tell o' that?"</p> + +<p>"No. What happened?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the big feller bit through the little feller's traces an' then +must 'a' said 'you get out o' here!' the way one dog knows how to talk +to another. 'Cause the pup he began to run away, before they'd got the +sled started at all."</p> + +<p>"And then what?" asked Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"Why—Mr. Young harnessed up the pup three times an' each time the big +dog he bites the pup loose an' the pup runs away."</p> + +<p>"So what did Mr. Young do then?"</p> + +<p>"He give the big dog a whipping."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>"Did that do any good?"</p> + +<p>"Not the least little bit that ever was. It done a lot o' harm. The +old dog's heart was bust. After that beatin' he weren't never the same +again—he seemed to lose all taste for haulin' a sled. He might as +well have lain down an' died in the traces, for all the use he was to +the team after that. He wa'n't no good for a leader any more. He +wa'n't no good for anything."</p> + +<p>"Do you use moccasins for your dogs?" asked Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"Sure us does. Makes 'em o' sealskin. Us ties 'em round the dog's +ankles, cuttin' three little holes for the claws."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Grenfell. "And the dog sometimes eats his own shoes, +doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Till he gets to know what the shoes is for. I've had my +dogs eat their own harness, many's the time. Don't seem as if dogs +could ever git so tired they wouldn't rather fight than sleep. I'd +just like to know what'd wear out a husky so he wouldn't be ready for +a scrap. They likes fightin' next to eatin'!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you feed your dogs once a day?" said the Doctor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>"Yes, Doctor. Only—they puts down the two fish I gives 'em in about +one swallow for both fish. I can't see that they gits much fun out o' +their supper."</p> + +<p>Then the sick man began to laugh feebly. "It 'minds me o' the time I +was out with the dogs in the deep snow. I was just goin' to build me a +snow hut for the night. There was a herd o' caribou come by, goin' so +fast I couldn't git my gun ready in time.</p> + +<p>"But the dogs—they tears 'emselves loose from the traces, 'cause I +hadn't taken 'em out yet, an' off they starts like the wind. They +leaves behind one little mother dog. She was their leader—they was +mostly from her litter.</p> + +<p>"So off they goes like a shot from a gun, me runnin' an' yellin' after +'em.</p> + +<p>"Pretty soon they finds a deer a hunter had shot an' must ha' left +behind 'cause he had so much he couldn't carry any more.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, they didn't ask no questions. They eats an' eats till you +could see 'em bulgin' way out like they had swallowed a football.</p> + +<p>"Well sir, would you believe it? All those dogs wa'n't such pigs. +There was one hadn't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>forgot the poor little ole mother dog at home +that was all tied up so she couldn't go with 'em. The biggest dog, he +brought back a whole hunk out o' the leg o' that deer, an' he laid it +down, within her reach, where she could grab it up an' give a gnaw to +it when she felt like it."</p> + +<p>"That reminds me," said Grenfell. "A settler and his wife, in a lonely +place, got the 'flu.' They were so weak they couldn't take care of +each other. The poor woman could hardly crawl to the cupboard and get +what little food there was, and she couldn't cook it when she got it.</p> + +<p>"But she managed to write in pencil on a bit of paper, 'come over +quickly.' She put it in a piece of sealskin and tied it with a piece +of deer-thong round a dog's neck.</p> + +<p>"He ran with it to the nearest house, which was ten miles away. And +soon men came and brought them aid, and their lives were saved.—Well, +John, I'm coming back in a day or two to see how you are. And I'll +call in on neighbor Martha Dennis, and she'll make you some nice broth +to take the place of the stew the dogs got."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Doctor! I'll be glad to see you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>when you comes back. I +don't know what us would do, if it wasn't for you, Doctor!"</p> + +<p>To the stories that the Doctor and his patient told each other might +be added many more true tales of the intelligence of the "husky" dogs.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a man at work in the forest, getting in his winter's supply +of fire-wood, will send the dog home with no message at all.</p> + +<p>Then the good wife looks about, to see what the dog's master has +forgotten. It may be an axe-head, or his pipe, or his lunch of bread +and potatoes.</p> + +<p>Whatever it is, she ties it to the dog and back he trots to his master +in the woods, a willing express-messenger.</p> + +<p>But one of the finest deeds set down to the credit of a "husky" is +what a plain, every-day "mutt" dog did at Martin's Point, on the west +coast of Newfoundland near Bonne Bay, in December 1919.</p> + +<p>The steamer <i>Ethie</i>, Captain English commanding, was making her last +southward trip of the season. I knew the <i>Ethie</i> well, every inch of +her, for I had made the up trip and the down trip aboard her only a +few weeks before. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>Through no fault of her gallant captain, she had +been carrying a great many more passengers than she ever was meant to +carry. On a pinch, she had accommodations for fifty. But on one trip, +by standing up the fishermen in the washroom as if they were bunches +of asparagus, she had taken three hundred passengers. From a hundred +to two hundred was a common number. I had been one of about +twenty-five lucky enough to find a "berth" in the small dining-saloon. +The berth was like a parcel-rack in a railway car. The people of the +coast were signing a long petition to have the miserable old tub laid +up and a larger, modern vessel substituted.</p> + +<p>When Captain English was nearing Martin's Point on the <i>Ethie's</i> last +voyage, a high sea was running, and she sprang a leak. The water +rushed into the fireroom. Captain English went below and made an +appeal to "his boys" not to desert their fires and not to fail him.</p> + +<p>"If you will stick till we get round the Point we can beach her," he +said. The stokers manfully plied their shovels: with the snow +whirling, and the wind blowing half a gale, the vessel struck, several +hundred yards from the beach. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>In a little while the waves, sweeping +furiously over the deck, would have swept the ninety-two persons +aboard into the sea.</p> + +<p>They tried to fire a line ashore to the willing crowd that stood at +the edge of the breakers.</p> + +<p>But the line fell short, across an ugly reef of jagged rocks half-way +to the land.</p> + +<p>Then volunteers were asked to swim ashore with the rope. But none of +the sailors knew how to swim. It is a rare accomplishment among +sailors, especially in those bitter northern waters. So that plan was +surrendered.</p> + +<p>A boat was launched. Before it had fairly hit the tremendous waves, it +was dashed to pieces against the <i>Ethie's</i> side.</p> + +<p>The company on shipboard seemed at the end of their resources. But the +people ashore had not been idle.</p> + +<p>There was a fisherman of Martin's Point named Reuben Decker, who had a +dog whom he had not taken the trouble to name at all. It was one of +the young dogs in process of being broken to the sled, and in the +meantime it was kicked and stoned and starved—not by the owner, but +by strangers afraid of it, as is the general lot of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>dogs in this part +of the world, after they have done their best by man.</p> + +<p>The dog happened to be down at the shore, forlornly searching for +sculpins and caplin. There was still open water between the shore and +the ship. Reuben Decker pointed to the rocks across which the rope had +fallen. At his word of command, the dog jumped into the sea, swam to +the rocks, and seized the rope in his mouth. Then, with the cries from +the ship and the shore ringing in his ears, he turned and began to +swim with it to the shore. It was not a heavy line. It was meant to be +used to haul a thicker rope. But it was wet, of course, and partly +frozen, and the miracle is how the animal managed to pull it through a +sea where men did not dare to go.</p> + +<p>The watchers ashore, standing waist and shoulder deep in the waves, +anxious to launch a boat as soon as the heavy swell would let them, +watched the dog and clapped their hands and yelled to him to come on.</p> + +<p>"Look at un!"</p> + +<p>"Swimmin' like a swile!"</p> + +<p>"Kim alang, b'y, kim alang!"</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep110" id="imagep110"></a> +<a href="images/imagep110.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep110.jpg" width="85%" alt="Let's Go!" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Let's Go!<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>"Man dear! My, my, my! Ain't dat wunnerful, now!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dat 'm de b'y!"</p> + +<p>"By de powers!—Git y'r gaff, b'y! Help un in!"</p> + +<p>"We'll have 'm all sove, soon's us lays han's on dat rope. Lord bless +dat dog!"</p> + +<p>At one moment his little brown head would rise on the crest of a +streaked, yeasty wave, the rope still in the white teeth—and then as +the wave curled and broke he would be plunged to the bottom of the +trough and they would lose sight of him. Would he come up again?</p> + +<p>"Yes—dere he be! My, my, my! Look at him a-comin' and a-comin'! I +never did see a dog the beat o' un! By the livin' Jarge, he's got more +sense 'n any o' us humans! I tell ye, thet's a miracle, thet's what it +is. Nothin' short o' a gospel miracle!"</p> + +<p>So the comment ran—for those who said anything. But many were too +surprised and thrilled to speak—and if they cried out it was when +they all cheered mightily together as the dog, hauled through the surf +by as many as could get their eager hands on him, scrambled out on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>the beach and dropped the fag-end of the rope as if it were a stick, +thrown into the water in sport, for him to retrieve.</p> + +<p>Now that communication was established, the next thing to do was to +haul a heavier rope to the beach. On this a breeches-buoy was rigged +without delay. In that breeches-buoy the ninety-two were hauled +ashore. One of them was a baby, eighteen months old, who traveled in a +mail-bag, "pleasantly sleeping and unaware." The last to leave was the +captain.</p> + +<p>The sea hammered the life out of the boat—but the human life was gone +from it, and nobody cared. As for the dog—you can imagine how Reuben +Decker's cottage door was kept a-swing till it was nearly torn from +its hinges, by friends who dropped in to pat him on the back, and look +with curiosity at the animal which a few hours ago they ignored or +despised. And Reuben did not tire of telling them all what a dog it +was. He could safely say there was no better on the coast. Perhaps in +the world.</p> + +<p>The rumbling echoes of the dog's brave deed traveled "over the hills +and far away," to Curling, where lives from hand to mouth a little +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>paper called <i>The Western Star</i>. It has a circulation of 675 in fair +weather and 600 when it storms. The editor is a man named Barrett, who +is a correspondent of the Associated Press. He put a brief dispatch on +the wire for all America. Some people in Philadelphia read it, and +sent the dog a silver collar, almost big enough to go three times +round his neck. Since the dog had no name, the word "Hero" was +engraved on the collar.</p> + +<p>The day of the presentation was a general holiday. All the way from +St. John's, people came to see "Hero" rewarded. Father Brennan made a +speech, the sheriff was in his glory, and Reuben Decker and his dog, +dragged blinking into the limelight, were equally dumb with modesty, +surprise and gratitude. The cheer that was raised when the silver +clasp of the magnificent collar clicked round "Hero's" throat drowned +out the loud music of the ocean.</p> + +<p>Now "Hero," freed forever from bondage to the sled, may lie by the +fire in his master's house, his head on his paws, his nose twitching, +as he dreams of his great adventure.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="VI" id="VI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>HUNTING WITH THE ESKIMO</h4> +<br /> + +<p>When Dr. Grenfell first sailed his mission boat to the Eskimo +settlements, the Eskimo swarmed aboard his little schooner, the +<i>Albert</i>. They were singing a hymn the Moravian missionaries taught +them.</p> + +<p>"What do you know about that?" said Sailor Bill to Sailor Jim. "Them +fellers certainly can sing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' they got a brass band," answered Jim. "Just hear 'em a-goin' +it, over there on the shore when the wind sets our way. You'd sure +think the circus was comin' to town! Hey there, where you goin', young +feller?"</p> + +<p>The "young feller" was an old Eskimo of about seventy, but Jim +couldn't be expected to know that. For he was all done up like a +figure from fairy-land—in snow-white jumper, peaked fur cap, and +sealskin boots.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo only grinned from ear to ear. He seemed ready to laugh at +everything. His little bright eyes missed nothing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>"These husky-maws are so bloomin' curious," said Jim. "Just like them +husky dogs. Hafta take the lid off 'n' look into everything. The cook +says he dasn't turn his back to the stove. Don't you let 'em into the +cabin!"</p> + +<p>"There's one of 'em in there now!" cried Bill. Out of a port-hole +issued the notes of a hymn, which one of the Eskimo was pumping out of +a melodeon.</p> + +<p>"Come up outa there!" yelled Bill, thrusting his head in at the +doorway.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo didn't understand the words, but he knew what the tone +meant, and meekly turned a smiling face toward the sailor.</p> + +<p>Then he jumped up from his seat on the top of a keg and put out his +hand. Bill took the pudgy, greasy little fingers. The Eskimo brought +from somewhere in his blouse a piece of ivory carved in the likeness +of a boat with rowers.</p> + +<p>"How much d'ye want for that?" asked Bill.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Are ye deaf?" cried Bill. "How much d'ye want for the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Aw shucks!" exclaimed Jim. "Hollerin' <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>so loud don't do no good. He +dunno what you're sayin'. He can't talk English. Show him your +clasp-knife. That'll talk to him better'n you can. He wants to swop +with ye."</p> + +<p>Bill brought out the big knife. The little brown man nodded eagerly. +Then he handed over the ivory boat. It was worth a great deal more +than the knife. But not to the Eskimo. That knife would be a precious +thing to help him carve meat and cut things out of sealskin and +perhaps stab a polar bear.</p> + +<p>"So everybody's happy?" laughed a clear and pleasant voice at Bill's +shoulder. "You traded about even, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so, Doctor. He's got what he wants, and I'm goin' to send the +boat to the kiddies in the old country."</p> + +<p>That night as the men sat around the cabin lamp with their pipes and a +big pail of steaming cocoa, Dr. Grenfell told them something about the +strange people they had come among.</p> + +<p>He had spent all day ashore among them, in various repairs to their +bodies, and he had promised to come back to them in the morning.</p> + +<p>"They're a nice, jolly, friendly lot," he said. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>"So different from +the old days, before the Moravian missionaries came.</p> + +<p>"You know, they always called themselves 'Innuits.' That means 'the +people.' They said God went on making human beings till He made the +Eskimo. When He saw them, He was perfectly satisfied, and didn't make +any more.</p> + +<p>"But the early Norsemen came along, about a thousand years after the +time of Christ, and called them 'skrellings.' That means 'weaklings.' +It was the Indians who called them Eskimo. The word means 'eaters of +raw meat.'"</p> + +<p>"They've sure got some funny ideas about Hell 'n' the Devil, Doctor!" +put in an old, wise sailor who was sitting deep in the shadows.</p> + +<p>"Yes they have!" agreed the Doctor. "Their God, Tongarsuk, is a good +spirit. He rules a lot of lesser spirits, called tongaks, and they run +and tell the priests, who are called angekoks, what to do. The +angekoks are the medicine-men and the weather-prophets. The Devil +isn't he, but she. And she is so dreadful that she hasn't any name, +because you're not supposed to talk about her at all.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>"The angekoks are awfully busy fellows. They have to keep making +journeys to the centre of the earth, the Eskimos believe. Because +that's where Tongarsuk the good spirit is, and they have to go and ask +him what to do when the little spirits get lazy and won't tell them.</p> + +<p>"Anybody who thinks the angekok has an easy time of it on his voyage +is mistaken. The journey has to be in winter. It must be at midnight. +The angekok's body is standing alone in the hut—his head tied between +his legs, his arms bound behind his back. In the meantime his soul has +left the body, and is on the way to heaven or hell.</p> + +<p>"That's what an ordinary, every-day angekok has to do. But if you want +to become an angekok poglit, which is a fat priest (meaning a chief +priest), it hurts a lot more, and takes much more time and trouble. +Then you have to let a white bear take your wandering soul and drag it +down to the sea by one toe. They don't tell you how a soul comes to +have a toe to drag it by.</p> + +<p>"When the soul reaches the seaboard, it must be swallowed by a +sea-lion—and of course the soul may have to sit there in the cold for +quite a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>while waiting for a sea-lion to come along. After the +sea-lion has swallowed it, the same white bear must reappear and +swallow it too. Then the white bear must give up the spirit, and let +it return to the dark house where the body is waiting for it. All this +time the neighbors keep up an infernal racket with a drum and any +other musical instruments they may happen to have.</p> + +<p>"The Eskimo know very well that once there was a flood—but they +cannot say exactly when. The trouble was that the world upset into the +sea, and all were drowned except one man who climbed out on a cake of +ice. They are sure of what they say, because although the oldest man +alive only heard about it from the oldest man when he was a baby, they +still find shells in the crannies of the rocks far beyond the maddest +reach of the sea: and somebody once found the remains of a whale at +the very top of a high mountain.</p> + +<p>"You do not go up to heaven when you die: you go down,—way, way down, +to the bottom of the sea, where the best of everything is. There it's +summer all the time. To the Eskimo there is no hell in being hot—hell +is terrible cold. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>Down there where it is summer all the time you +don't have to chase reindeer if you want them to pull you about—they +come running up to you, obliging as taxicabs, and ask you please to +harness them and tell them where you would like to go. And your dinner +is ready for you all the time: the seals are swimming about in a +kettle of boiling water. The women don't have to spend their time +chewing on the sealskins to make them pliable for shoes and garments. +The skins come off, all by themselves, already chewed—as nice and +soft as can be, fit to make a bed for an Eskimo baby.</p> + +<p>"His boat and his weapons go with the warrior to his grave, so that +his spirit may have the use of them in the next world.</p> + +<p>"Once, one of the sailors from Newfoundland took something from a +grave and hid it in his bunk.</p> + +<p>"That night the dead Eskimo came looking for his property.</p> + +<p>"It was pitch dark—but one of the crew saw and felt the ghost +prowling about in the cabin!</p> + +<p>"He yelled, and they lit the lamp.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>"The ghost went out at the hatchway instantly.</p> + +<p>"They put out the light, and the ghost came back. Then shouts were +heard, 'There he is! He's a Eskimo! He's huntin' in Tom's bunk!'</p> + +<p>"After that, they kept the lamp lit all night long: and the next day, +Tom went back and with trembling fingers restored what he had stolen +to the grave.</p> + +<p>"There are wide chinks in the rocky roof of every properly made Eskimo +grave. This is not so that prowling sailor-men may reach in: it is so +the spirits will have no trouble going in and out.</p> + +<p>"You may still find lying in a grave a modern high-powered rifle ready +for business, and good steel knives ready to carve those cooked seals +down there in Heaven. I've even found pipes all ready filled with +tobacco, to save the spirits the trouble of using their fingers to +cram the bowl.</p> + +<p>"Nowadays sealskins are exchanged for European goods, especially guns, +and the Labrador Eskimo have lost much of the art of using their +kayaks, the canoes into which they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>used to bind themselves securely, +so that when they turned over in the water it did no harm. They would +'bob up serenely' and go right on, and in contests one man would pass +his boat right over that of a rival without risk of accident.</p> + +<p>"The Eskimo and the Indians were bitter enemies. The story of the last +fight is, that the Eskimo had their fishing-huts on an island off the +mouth of a river.</p> + +<p>"Down-stream by night crept the Indians in their war-canoes. These +they dragged ashore and hid in the rocks. Next morning the Eskimo came +upon their enemies and at once attacked them.</p> + +<p>"The Eskimo are little people as compared with the Indians. The +Indians, their squaws fighting like bears beside them, drove the +Eskimo back and back toward the sea.</p> + +<p>"Stubbornly the 'huskies' contested every inch of the ground. Now and +again they would crawl into holes among the rocks—but the Indians +would find them there and cut them down without mercy, like animals +trapped in their burrows.</p> + +<p>"The Eskimo had their choice between the I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>ndians and the sea. They +would carry their children and even their wives down to the boats on +their backs, and sometimes the frail skin-boats would turn over, and +all the people in them would be drowned. If they succeeded in putting +out to sea, they had no place to go: the Indians waiting ashore would +get them whenever and wherever they landed.</p> + +<p>"At last—there were only the Indians in their war-paint, dancing and +howling on the beach—not an Eskimo was left to tell the tale."</p> + +<p>A few days later, Dr. Grenfell came to Hopedale.</p> + +<p>There, he found, the Eskimo believed that Queen Victoria, away off +there on the other side of the ocean, was sitting on a rock waiting +for the <i>Harmony</i> (the Moravian mission ship from Labrador) to come in +sight.</p> + +<p>They loaded him down with all sorts of messages they wanted him to +give her.</p> + +<p>Especially, they wanted him to say to her that they were very, very +grateful to her for sending him over the seas to help them.</p> + +<p>When they learned that England was at war in Egypt, and a brave +general was holding the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>upper Nile against a crowd of savages, +although they hadn't the slightest notion as to where Egypt was or who +the Egyptians were, they got out everything they had in the way of +firearms and began to drill up and down on the rocky beach.</p> + +<p>One old fellow had a policeman's coat split up the back and much too +big for him, and he dragged the tail of it along the ground like a +bedraggled water-fowl. He also had a single epaulet that had come in a +box of cast-off clothing.</p> + +<p>On the strength of that uniform they made him captain of the company.</p> + +<p>Then they all marched up to the missionaries and said:</p> + +<p>"We want to go to war and help the English!"</p> + +<p>"It won't be any use," said the missionaries. "Egypt is a long, long +way off—and the war will be over before you could get there!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" insisted the "huskies." "We want to go!"</p> + +<p>They kept on drilling and making warlike noises with their mouths till +the ice melted and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>the cod came in. And after that, in the struggle +with the cold sea and the barren land for a living they forgot all +about war and the rumors of war.</p> + +<p>There were seals and bears and foxes to be hunted, instead of men.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell found one man who was lucky enough to catch a black fox +in a trap of stones.</p> + +<p>He was so happy over the catch that tears of joy ran down his face as +he carried the precious skin to the store. He said God had heard his +prayers and made his family suddenly rich.</p> + +<p>The storekeeper paid him forty-five dollars. That seemed like a +fortune. The price was not paid in cash, however, but in food.</p> + +<p>Staggering under the load he came back to his hut, and when the stuff +was put on the shelves it looked like such a lot he began to think he +and his family never would be able to get it eaten before the end of +the world came.</p> + +<p>So he sent out for his friends and neighbors.</p> + +<p>Be sure they came. An Eskimo can smell food cooking (or even merely +rotting) for miles beyond the power of sight to detect it.</p> + +<p>The invitation ran: "Come and eat and stay with me." And then the +Eskimo ran too, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>big ones tumbling over the little ones, and the +dogs outstripping their masters, and all making loud noises according +to their kind.</p> + +<p>Alas! in two days they had literally eaten their generous host out of +house and home, and along with the dogs of the quarreling packs there +was the wolf of hunger gnawing at the door.</p> + +<p>One of the Newfoundland fishermen left an Eskimo in charge of his +supplies for the winter. Of these provisions he had set aside plenty +for the Eskimo—for he knew how much a "husky" can eat. The Eskimo +seems to have a "bread-basket" quite as extensible as any dog he +drives.</p> + +<p>Then all the other Eskimo came swarming: and he fed them all, so that +in two days the whole crowd were starving together.</p> + +<p>Grenfell found that the white man, green to the business of +dog-driving or whale-hunting, had to win the respect of the Eskimo.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo knows that most of his paleface brethren from the south are +wholly unable to paddle their own canoes.</p> + +<p>The white man, as a rule, cannot slay the seal, nor catch the cod, nor +catch anything else except a cold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>He cannot stand up to a polar bear with a knife in fair fight.</p> + +<p>He cannot sit out on a rock in a rain-storm all day without an +umbrella and seem to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>He cannot stand hunger, thirst and frost, and he chokes when the fumes +and the black smoke of oil lamps get into his throat.</p> + +<p>Then he is so funny about food! He doesn't care for stinking fish: he +doesn't like his meat crawling with maggots after it has been buried +in the ground; he doesn't know how much better molasses tastes when +mice have fallen into it and expired.</p> + +<p>The white man washes. How silly! He takes a brush made of little white +bristles and rubs his teeth with it. Well, if the white man's mouth, +which is full of water, isn't clean, then what part of him can be +clean? And why does he turn up his nose at the Eskimo for being dirty?</p> + +<p>As for smells, what is a bad smell? The Eskimo doesn't seem to know. +In Kipling's wonderful address on "Travel," before the Royal +Geographical Society, he had much to say <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>about smells, and how they +suggest places. Eskimo taken to the World's Fair in Chicago were +homesick for the smell of decaying blubber, rancid whale-meat, +steaming bodies in the igloo, the rich perfume of the dogs, and all +the other aromatic comforts of home. As smells are their special +delight, so dirt is their peculiar glory. A bath in warm water would +make them as unhappy as it makes a cat.</p> + +<p>Fond of eating as they are, they like a change of food, and if +bear-meat is all they find to eat in a certain spot, they hitch up and +hike on to a better meal at a distance. They always want to be on the +go. They rarely stay in one place more than a year or two.</p> + +<p>Even the rifle does not seem, in the long run, to be helping them +much. When the sealer used a harpoon, he hardly ever missed the seal, +for he always struck at close range. But with the rifle, shooting from +afar, the sea often swallows up his prey ere he can reach it. The +walrus has gone to the farthest North and the seal is becoming gun-shy +very fast.</p> + +<p>As a hunter, the Eskimo is not wanting in nerve. A mighty hunter north +of Nain was out <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>gunning for big birds—ptarmigan, guillemot and +divers,—when he came on a robust and fierce polar bear, a monstrous +specimen.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo had a shotgun, not a rifle. It takes a ball cartridge of +large calibre to do for Mr. Bruin ordinarily—and he can "make his +getaway" with a good deal of lead in him. But the "husky" calmly +walked up close to the bear, and discharged his shotgun pointblank in +the face of the astonished animal. If the hunter had been at a +distance, the bear would have minded the dose about as much as a pinch +of pepper. As it was, the animal was blinded, and turned in fury on +the hunter.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo tore off his sealskin tunic and threw it over the bear's +head, the way a bull-fighter confuses a charging bull with a mantilla. +The bear stopped to tear the garment in pieces before proceeding to +kill and devour the owner.</p> + +<p>But the delay was fatal to Mr. Bear. In jig-time the hunter had +reloaded the gun. He put the second charge into the bear's head +through the eye,—and the monster expired at his feet.</p> + +<p>The boys have bows and arrows; they begin by practising on small birds +and later become <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>proficient with a gun, so that by the time they are +twelve years old they are veteran hunters.</p> + +<p>The greatest joy in the life of the Eskimo is to spend a day in a +seal-hunt.</p> + +<p>Hours before dawn, the hunter climbs a rock and looks out to sea, +anxious to learn if it will be a good day for his watery business.</p> + +<p>Then he gets his breakfast. In the old days, it was a drink of water. +Nowadays, if the Eskimo has learned to like the white man's hot drink, +it may be a cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>At any rate, he drinks his breakfast: he doesn't eat it. He says food +in his stomach makes him unhappy in the kayak.</p> + +<p>The only food he takes with him is a plug of tobacco. He carries the +kayak to the water, puts his weapons where he can get his hands on +them instantly, climbs into the hole amidship and fastens his jacket +round the circular rim.</p> + +<p>He may have to go a dozen miles out to sea. Now and then, to vary the +paddling, he throws a bird-dart. Like the Eskimo harpoon, this dart +and the stick that throws it are most ingenious contrivances, and +beautifully wrought.</p> + +<p>The hunter grabs the beak of a wounded bird <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>in his teeth, and with a +wrench breaks the creature's neck. He then ties his prey to the rear +of the kayak and grins at the other hunters.</p> + +<p>At the hunting-ground, seals' heads are to be seen everywhere, like +raisins in a pudding. This is not sealing on the ice, as along the +coast of Newfoundland: it is hunting them in open water—a very +different thing.</p> + +<p>Papik (let us call him) spots the seal he wants and creeps up on it, +paddling warily.</p> + +<p>The seal, a wise creature where such hunting is concerned, sees him +and dives.</p> + +<p>Papik rests on his paddle, and gets his harpoon ready for the +reappearance of the seal.</p> + +<p>It is a waiting game. Whenever the seal bobs up, the kayak is a little +nearer, for while the seal is under water a few strokes of the paddle +have cut down the distance.</p> + +<p>A seal can stay under water a long, long time.</p> + +<p>But an Eskimo, for his part, can sit all day as still as a tombstone +in a cemetery.</p> + +<p>Woe be to the furry creature, if it waits a fraction of a second too +long before it dives!</p> + +<p>In the clear sunlight the shaft flashes whistling from the throwing +stick, the barb strikes, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>seal goes down in a welter of +blood-stained foam. At the end of the harpoon line is a bladder—and +as the bladder dances away over the surface, sometimes bobbing out of +sight, Papik is after it like a hound chasing a rabbit.</p> + +<p>The bladder is to the barbed harpoon what the fisherman's float is to +the baited hook.</p> + +<p>When the seal comes up, furious to attack and punish the hunter, it +first tears the bladder in pieces—then it makes at the kayak.</p> + +<p>But Papik is calmly ready. He has a lance with which he takes careful +aim.</p> + +<p>The seal comes on, bent double to hurl itself forward with all its +might. It seems strange that a creature usually so gentle can show +such ferocity.</p> + +<p>The lance is flung. It goes through the seal's mouth and comes out at +the back of the neck. The seal shakes its head violently, but it is +doomed.</p> + +<p>Papik's second lance strikes through a flipper into the lungs.</p> + +<p>The seal is still alive as he comes close. Papik stabs it with his +long knife, and it ceases to struggle at last. The seal is a creature +that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>clings to life a long, long time. He ties the seal to the stern +of the kayak, rearranges his apparatus, coils his rope, puts his +lances in their place, and is ready for another. If he is in luck, he +may paddle homeward with four seals, and even more, in his wake.</p> + +<p>If a storm comes before he gets to the shore, his watermanship is +severely tested. He fights not only to bring his boat and himself +through the tumult of the waters: he means to save every one of those +carcasses wallowing along behind.</p> + +<p>In the midst of his hard fighting with the waves, which turn him over +and roll him about, as he stubbornly rights himself after each +capsizing and hurls himself through the next curving green hillside of +water, he comes upon a helpless comrade.</p> + +<p>Ordinarily, the second man, Patuak, could bob up again and go on, like +stalwart Papik.</p> + +<p>But Patuak's jacket worked loose at the rim of the body-hole of the +kayak. The water rushed in. Now he is water-logged. He will lose his +boat, his seals, his life, unless Papik can save him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>Is Papik tempted to think only of himself and leave Patuak to his +fate? If he is, it does not appear in what he does. He runs his kayak +alongside that of his friend: he puts his paddle across both boats, +and if he cannot bring in both kayaks, with such help as Patuak is +able to give, he may even carry Patuak lying across the prow of his +own boat.</p> + +<p>It is easier to drown a seal than to drown an Eskimo.</p> + +<p>The women stand on the rocks, shielding their eyes with their hands as +they gaze eagerly seaward—just as the women of Nantucket stood on the +roofs of the houses in olden times watching and waiting for the +whaling-fleet.</p> + +<p>At the first sign of the approaching hunters a cry goes up: "They are +coming!"</p> + +<p>Then they begin to count.</p> + +<p>They thank their own idea of Heaven when they find that—seals or no +seals—their men are coming back in safety.</p> + +<p>If a man is towing seals, they shout his name with joy—and after it +put the word "kaligpok," which means "towing."</p> + +<p>The women haul in the boats, rub noses with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>their husbands to show +their affection, and proceed to prepare the feast of raw blubber.</p> + +<p>After that feast the men tell the story of the day's work—without +boasting, but with touches of humor that send the listeners off into +ringing peals of laughter.</p> + +<p>The story-telling is a part of the seal-hunt. The phrases are +straight-flung as a seal-lance.</p> + +<p>"When the time came for using the harpoon, I looked to it, I took it, +I seized it, I gripped it, I had it fast in my hand, I balanced +it"—and so on. The audience, mouths agape, misses no word. It is the +nearest thing the Eskimos have to motion pictures—and what a motion +picture the whole of the seal-hunt is! No wonder the hunter lolls back +like a lord, and lets himself be waited on, a conquering hero.</p> + +<p>The old men feel their youth renewed as they sit and listen to these +wonder-tales. In their turn, they are moved to tell how they met the +walrus in fair fight and overcame him. Perhaps the dreaded tusk went +right through the side of the boat and wounded the hunter. But there +are no friends like Eskimo friends for a man in such a plight. They +killed the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>walrus—they dined off the meat—and the tusks are kept to +this day to show for it. A skin canoe against a walrus—that is a +battle indeed. The younger men know what it means: and the old man is +comforted by the remembrance of what he used to be.</p> + +<p>They are patient people, the Eskimo, and they need all the patience +they have. An Inspector sent a boat-load of Eskimo to a fiord to get +some grass for his goats.</p> + +<p>They were gone a long time, and he wondered what had become of them.</p> + +<p>When at last they returned, he asked them why they remained away so +long. They told him that when they got to the place where he told them +to go, they found the grass was too short. So they had to sit down and +wait until it grew. Their time was of no value. And they had their +orders to obey!</p> + +<p>The world owes it to these brave people not to take from them their +birthright to their few possessions in the far places where they +dwell.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="VII" id="VII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>LITTLE PRINCE POMIUK</h4> +<br /> + +<p>There was an Eskimo boy named Pomiuk who lived in the far north of +Labrador, at Nachoak Bay. Pomiuk had the regular sea-and-land training +of the Eskimo boy. In summer his family lived in a skin tent, in +winter they occupied an ice igloo. It is a fine art making one of +those rounded domes—the curving blocks must be shaped and fitted +exactly, so as to come out even at the top.</p> + +<p>Blubber in a stone dish supplied light and heat. If the air got too +thick, father could thrust the handle of his dog-whip through the +roof. Nobody bothered about bathing on Saturday night, and nobody +minded the smell of rotten whale-meat for the dogs. In an atmosphere +that would stifle a white man, Pomiuk and his brothers and sisters +throve and laughed and had the time of their lives. Pomiuk had his own +whip of braided walrus hide, and even when he was little the dogs +respected him and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>ran forward when he shouted "oo-isht!" turned to +the right at "ouk!" and stopped and sat down panting when he shouted +"ah!"</p> + +<p>When Pomiuk was ten years old a ship came on a strange errand. +Pomiuk's family and their friends were fishing for cod. But when the +strange ship dropped anchor, they flocked to it shouting in their own +tongue "Stranger! stranger!" When they learned why it came they were +amazed.</p> + +<p>An Eskimo interpreter who came with the white men from the south +explained that what they wanted was to take the Eskimo to that far-off +land called America, where at a place called Chicago most wonderful +things were gathered together in huge igloos for all the world to see. +They wanted the Eskimo to come themselves and to bring with them their +boats and dogs, their sleds, their tools, their clothing, and the +things with which they hunted whales and seals and polar bears. In +fact the white men could not pretend to show the world anything very +remarkable, unless such clever people as the Eskimo brought their +things with them.</p> + +<p>The men from the south urged and flattered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>and argued till a number +of the Eskimo let themselves be persuaded. The Eskimo had no idea of +the trouble and disaster they were letting themselves in for, or they +never would have started. The beautiful fairy-tales told by the white +men inflamed their imaginations. They had always been very well +pleased with their own white, cold world of whales and seals and +kayaks—those canoes in which they are as much at home as the fish in +the sea. But here was a chance to travel, and see marvels, and come +home and rouse the envy of those who had not dared. It was too good a +chance to miss. They would return rich men, and have nothing to do but +brag about their adventures for the rest of their lives.</p> + +<p>Pomiuk's father didn't care to go. But he was broad-minded. It was a +big sacrifice for him to part with his wife and son, for it is the +teeth of the women that must chew the sealskins to make them pliable +for shoes and clothes: it is the fingers of women that do all the +sewing. But Pomiuk's mother could show the helpless white women how to +make skin boots, and Pomiuk could teach the paleface men and children +to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>use the dog whip as he used it every day. If the Eskimo brought +back money enough to buy many things at the nearest trading-post, the +time spent on the long southward trek would not be wasted. The Eskimo, +unlike the northern Indian, is a good business man, counting his +puppies after they are born and his fox-skins before he spends them.</p> + +<p>So the Eskimo sailed away from their own coast, with a gnawing +homesickness at heart, though their lips were silent about it: and +when they got to Chicago the life was strange with hideous sight and +sound, and altogether unbearable: and they longed to get away from it +to the sea and the ice and behold again their northern lights, which +to the Eskimo are the spirits of the dead at play.</p> + +<p>But there they were cooped up behind a stockade, like creatures at the +zoo, to amuse the crowd, and be giggled at and poked toward as if they +were some newly imported breed of monkey. An Eskimo likes as little as +any other human to have fun made of him.</p> + +<p>Worst of all, they lived in the white man's houses, and found the four +walls instead of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>"wide and starry sky" intolerable. A snow house +has its own kind of stuffiness—the smell of whale-blubber and +seal-oil to Eskimo nostrils is a sweet perfume. To be cooped up in a +bedroom, and expected to sleep on a mattress with pillows, is pure +torture.</p> + +<p>While they were on the exhibition stand, in the torrid heat, they had +to wear those heavy clothes of furs and skins which the ladies said +looked so picturesque. They knew how the polar bear felt in his cage +away from his ice-blocks. The food the white man ate with relish was +such queer stuff. They longed for that delicious tidbit, the flipper +of a seal. How good the entrails of a gull, or a fox's stomach would +have tasted! But the white men seemed to think that coffee, and +watermelon and corn on the cob, and ham and eggs, and the pies their +Eskimo mothers never used to make were good enough for them. Except +for the warm blood of the seal, the Eskimo ordinarily has no use for a +hot drink.</p> + +<p>Several of the older Eskimo wilted away like flowers, and died. They +were buried and forgotten; and when the dogs died they were buried +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>and forgotten too: there was about the same lack of ceremony in the +one case as in the other.</p> + +<p>But little Pomiuk through thick and thin was the joyous life of the +party. They worked him hard, because he amused the visitors. The +visitors would throw nickels and dimes into the enclosure, and as the +coins flickered in the air Pomiuk would lash out at them with his +thirty-five foot whip. If he nicked the coin it was his. Then he would +laugh—a very musical laugh, that could be heard a long way off. He +was a jolly, friendly little soul, and he wore a smile that hardly +came off even when he slept.</p> + +<p>But there came a time when even happy little Pomiuk could not smile.</p> + +<p>One day as he leapt high in the air, agile as a Russian dancer, to +bring down one of those spinning coins with his whip, he fell on the +boards, his hip striking a nail that stuck out.</p> + +<p>His mother ran to pick him up. His face was twisted with agony.</p> + +<p>He tried to stand, for her sake, but the effort was too much for him, +and he sank back in her arms, weak as a baby. What was she to do? The +men who ran the exhibit had not kept their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>promises. Pomiuk was the +chief bread-winner for them all. The coins he had nicked with his whip +were most of what they had to spend.</p> + +<p>With this money they sent out and got a so-called "surgeon" who did +not know his business, but took the money just the same. He patched up +poor "Prince" Pomiuk so that the boy was worse off than before.</p> + +<p>The Fair closed: the Eskimo were stranded. If that had happened on a +sea-beach at home, they would have known what to do: they would have +laughed—for they are merry people, like our southern negroes—and +they would have killed sea-birds with stones and made their way +alongshore. But to be stranded in Chicago is another story. God knows +how a few survivors of the band found pity in men's hearts, and +straggled back to their home at Nachoak Bay.</p> + +<p>Pomiuk's wound never healed—he could not run about, nor walk, nor +even stand. His mother had to carry him everywhere. In Newfoundland +the fishermen and the sealers, desperately poor as they were, took +them into their bare cabins, and gave them bread and tea taken from +the mouths of their own hungry children.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>Dr. Frederick Cook, creation's champion liar, did a golden deed for +which the Recording Angel should give him a good mark in the Book of +Life. He made room for several of the Eskimo on his journey to the +Labrador coast: and fishing-schooners took the rest of the survivors.</p> + +<p>Imagine how happy Pomiuk was, in spite of the pain in his hip, when he +thought of crawling back into the mouth of his own snow house again, +and rubbing noses with his father once more!</p> + +<p>But when the mother and the child were put ashore at Nachoak Bay—they +were told that the father's spirit was at play with the rest among the +northern lights. In this world they would not see him again. He had +been murdered while his wife and child were in Chicago.</p> + +<p>It was at that dark hour that Dr. Grenfell came into his life.</p> + +<p>Grenfell found the poor little boy, who had earned so much money, and +brought so much glory to his tribe, lying naked on the rocks beside +the hut. The mother had married again, and gone off "over the +mountains" with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>other children, leaving her crippled son to the +tender mercy of the neighbors. It was indeed a "come-down" in the +world for a "prince," whose father was a "king" among his fellows. It +was deemed best to send Pomiuk south on the little hospital steamer +with the Doctor. The Doctor could fix him up, if anybody could, and +moreover—this was the clinching argument—he was "no good fishing." +So the next day found Pomiuk bound south, clasping his only worldly +possession—a letter from a clergyman of Andover, Massachusetts. There +was a photograph with it. If you asked Pomiuk what he had there, he +would turn on that magic smile and show you the picture, and say: "Me +love even him."</p> + +<p>The minister who wrote the letter sent money for the care of the poor +"Prince." Next summer Grenfell saw him again, and the child laughed as +he said, "Me Gabriel Pomiuk now." A Moravian missionary had given him +the name. They had made him as comfortable as possible at the Indian +Harbor hospital: his own disposition made him happy. He had been moved +from the hospital to a near-by home, and he hopped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>about on crutches +as gayly as though he could run and play like the other children.</p> + +<p>But malignant disease in his hip was sapping his strength, just as the +ants of Africa will eat away a leg of furniture till it is a hollow +shell, and one day the whole table or chair falls crashing. His +strength was ebbing fast. Suddenly he became very ill: he was put to +bed, with high fever, and was often unconscious. In a week he was +dead. But that little generous, courageous life was the +foundation-stone of Dr. Grenfell's noble orphanage at St. Anthony, put +up with the pennies of American children, where I had the pleasure of +telling dog-stories to smiling Eskimo boys in the summer of 1919. +Gabriel is the angel of comfort: and this small Gabriel has left +behind him the comfort of fatherless homes in Labrador for ages yet to +be.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell says that on the night of his passing the heavens were +aflame with the aurora. It was as though little Prince Pomiuk's father +had come to welcome him, and they were at play once more in the old +games they knew.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>CAPTURED BY INDIANS</h4> +<br /> + +<p>In the lonely interior of Labrador in midsummer an old man sat on the +rocky ground with a ring of Indians about him.</p> + +<p>He was "Labrador" Cabot of Boston. Year after year he had gone to +Labrador to visit the Indian tribes and study their ways. He could +talk the Indian language and understand what they said to him.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with your leg?" asked the Chief, a big, strong +fellow with keen eyes. "Can't you walk? We must get started if we want +to find the deer."</p> + +<p>"I think I must have broken my leg when I slipped and fell on the +rocks," answered Mr. Cabot.</p> + +<p>He made an effort to rise and stand, but sank back helplessly.</p> + +<p>A curious, evil grin spread across the red man's face.</p> + +<p>"You're sure you can't walk?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>Mr. Cabot shook his head.</p> + +<p>"What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"One thing is sure," said Mr. Cabot, "I'll have to stay with you if +I'm to get out of this place alive."</p> + +<p>"We can't let you keep us back," answered the Indian. "We might leave +you here with a fire and something to eat."</p> + +<p>"And what would I do after the fire went out, and the food was gone?"</p> + +<p>The Indian shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Can't some of your men make a litter of boughs and carry me?" pleaded +Mr. Cabot.</p> + +<p>"They could if they wanted to," answered the Indian, coldly. "But I +don't think they want to."</p> + +<p>"Haven't we always been friends?" urged Mr. Cabot.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Haven't I been here summer after summer, and helped you, and given +medicine to sick people?"</p> + +<p>The Indian picked up handfuls of sand and threw them on the fire. +"Yes, and you were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>always writing in a little book. Maybe when you +went away from here you told lies to the world about us. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cabot was puzzled. Was this the friendly, peaceful Chief he knew +before he had the misfortune to fall and hurt his leg?</p> + +<p>In spite of the pain he was suffering, he tried to talk calmly and not +show that he was afraid of being left behind. "Why have you turned +against me?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" the Indian chief answered.</p> + +<p>"A little while ago you seemed like my friend. Now you are willing to +leave me here where there are no fish, and the deer do not come, and +the mosquitoes are worse than any wild animals. What is the meaning of +all this?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," the Indian answered, very slowly. "You must pay us +for what a white man did to us."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, and you shall hear.</p> + +<p>"Last year, we had fox furs—very many and very fine. We had risked +our lives: we had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>starved and frozen to get them. All over Ungava we +had tracked and trapped in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>"Then—see what happened. A trader came among us. He had much money. +It was not like any money we had seen before, but he said it was a new +kind of money. And he would give us more of it for our furs than any +man had given us before.</p> + +<p>"He gave us much to drink. We had a feast, and dancing. The trader +gave handsome presents to our wives. Beads and bright cloth for +dresses. He gave us tobacco, and whiskey.</p> + +<p>"When we did not know what we were doing, he bought our furs. He +bought them all. He gave us this new, strange money and much of it. +Then he went away. We fired guns in the air to honor him. We shook +hands with him. We thought he was our friend. We promised to be +friends with him as long as sun and moon endured.</p> + +<p>"He smiled, and waved, and went away—and we, we had nothing of him +but the money. It was paper, all of it, very bright and new and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>green, with printed marks on it we could not read.</p> + +<p>"Some shook their heads when he had gone, and said, 'No, no, brothers. +We should not have taken this green paper and given him those furs.'</p> + +<p>"But others said, 'Look what he has paid us! We are all rich men. The +price is better than we ever had before!'</p> + +<p>"The old, wise men said, 'How do you know that it is more, when you do +not know how much it is?'</p> + +<p>"So, night and day, there was talking to and fro—along the trail by +day, around the camp-fire when the sun had set.</p> + +<p>"It soon came time for us to send men down to Rigolet, on Hamilton +Inlet, there to buy at the Hudson's Bay store the things that we would +need in the winter time.</p> + +<p>"We sent twelve of the strong young men in their canoes to get the +things and bring them home to our tents. We were happy when we thought +of all the guns and tobacco, all the flour and the fine clothes so +much money would buy.</p> + +<p>"They went: and they were gone many days, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>while we waited in one +fixed place for them, and in our minds spent the money many times +over."</p> + +<p>Then the Indian paused. He was squatting on his haunches, and puffing +at his pipe. Mr. Cabot's leg was giving him much pain, but he was too +proud to ask the Indian to do anything for him.</p> + +<p>The Indian's face grew very stern as he remembered. His tone became as +hard as the expression of his face. He looked at Mr. Cabot and +clenched his fist. "When our men came to the storekeeper, they walked +all about the store. 'I'll take that fine dress,' said one. 'Give me +that shotgun,' said another. 'I will have this bag of tobacco,' said a +third. Some took flour, and some chose bright ornaments for their +wives, and others took candy, and one man got a talking-machine. Some +chose the best clothes in the store. They also took much food of every +kind, and ammunition for the guns.</p> + +<p>"They made great piles of the things on the floor, to take them to the +canoes.</p> + +<p>"Then they brought out their money to pay for all these things.</p> + +<p>"'What is that stuff?' said the storekeeper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>"'That? It is our money. It is what a trader paid us for our furs.'</p> + +<p>"'What was his name?'</p> + +<p>"'That we do not know. We did not ask. We do not care who buys from +us; all we care is that he buys. One man's money is as good as +another's.'</p> + +<p>"Then the storekeeper laughed in their faces. And he said: 'You have +been fooled. You have been fooled as easily as little children. Do you +know what this "money" is that you have given me?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' they said.</p> + +<p>"'It is not money at all,' he told them. 'It is nothing but labels +from beer bottles. You cannot have those things you have piled up on +the floor. I will take them back and keep them here until you bring me +real money for them.'</p> + +<p>"Then they said to him, 'But it is all we have. We cannot go back to +our people with nothing.'</p> + +<p>"He said: 'I cannot help that. It is no fault of mine.'</p> + +<p>"They wanted to fight—but it would do no good to kill the agent or +drive him away. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>There would be no one from whom to get things another +year.</p> + +<p>"'You ought to have brought your furs to me. I would have given you +real money for them,' said the agent.</p> + +<p>"They went away very sorrowful. After many days they came back to us +again. We were very glad when we saw them coming—but we wondered that +their canoes were not piled high with the things we had told them to +buy.</p> + +<p>"When we heard their story we were very sorrowful. We talked about it +a great deal. We said, 'What shall we do?'</p> + +<p>"Then we made up our minds. This is what we decided. We said: 'The +next white man that comes among us we shall hold. We shall not let him +go until he pays to us a sum of money, seven hundred dollars, equal to +that which we have lost. Since he is a white man he or his friends +must make up to us that which we have lost at the hands of a white +man.'</p> + +<p>"So now you see—you are the man. And it is you that must pay back to +us the money."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't seven hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>"Then you must promise that you will pay it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>or get your friends to +pay it. These many years you have come here among us. We will trust +you for that. It is much that we should trust you—when it is one of +your own people who brought such suffering and loss upon us."</p> + +<p>"But this is an outrage!" said Mr. Cabot. "I never did anything to you +but good. You know that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we know that," said the Indian, gravely. "But we shall leave you +here unless you pay. You cannot find your way out alone—even if you +could stand and walk upon your broken leg. We shall not carry you from +here unless you pay the money. Is that not so?"</p> + +<p>He turned to the others, who had not said one word all this while: +they had been merely looking on and listening.</p> + +<p>"Yes," they said. "He has spoken for us all. As he has said, we shall +do. You shall be left here, if you do not pay."</p> + +<p>"The Great Spirit has given you into our hands," the Chief declared. +"When you came to us this summer again, we said among ourselves that +he had sent you. We did not know that he would cause you to break your +leg. We <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>were going to keep you even if this had not happened. Now the +Great Spirit has caused this hurt to happen to you. We see, by this, +that we were not mistaken. He sent you to us as surely as he sends the +fish or the deer when we have need of food. It is for you to choose, +if you will pay, and go on with us to the coast—or refuse to pay and +be left here in the wilderness to die."</p> + +<p>So Cabot had to sign a promise to pay them the $700 for a great rascal +whose name neither he nor those Indians will ever know.</p> + +<p>They made a stretcher and put him on it, and carried him with them out +to the coast.</p> + +<p>If they had not done so—his white bones would now be bleaching beside +the cold embers of a camp-fire in the desolate interior of Labrador.</p> + +<p>Do you blame those Indians for wanting to "take it out" of the first +member they met, of a race that bred such a rogue as the man who +cheated them?</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell tells us that for about two hundred years the Eskimo of +the interior and the Indians of the coast were at war with one +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>another. There was a battle, long, long ago, in which Indians killed a +thousand Eskimo.</p> + +<p>But nowadays when the Eskimo and Indians come together they have no +quarrel.</p> + +<p>There was such a meeting at Nain in 1910. It was the first time the +Eskimo had ever seen Indians in that tiny fishing-village, and they +"ran about in circles" in their excitement.</p> + +<p>It was on a Sunday afternoon when the Indians appeared. They had come +down a stream from the interior, and when they rounded the bend in +their boats—of a kind that was strange to the Eskimo—the latter set +up a cackle like that of a barnyard when a hawk appears.</p> + +<p>The Indians, with their bundles on their shoulders, filed ashore, made +their way to a hut the kindly Moravian missionary let them use, and +sat in muddy, weary silence round the walls.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo crowded into the doorway, their tongues hanging out, +staring at these queer folk as if they had dropped from the moon.</p> + +<p>But other Eskimo, kind-hearted and hospitable, were moved to show the +strangers what shore life was like.</p> + +<p>They got busy at the stove, boiled water, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>presently handed about +large cups of tea, with sugar and biscuit.</p> + +<p>The Indians devoured the refreshments thankfully, for they were very +hungry. The Northern Indians lead lives that are often sharpened with +hunger for long periods together. You can see it in their lank frames +and their gaunt faces. The southern Indians, nearer the flesh-pots, +with kindly priests at work among them, look roly-poly, chubby and +content.</p> + +<p>It was a very silent party. The Indians who had been so bold as to +come this far to the sea were probably homesick for the flat stones, +the dwarf birches, the far-lying ponds and cold swirling streams, the +hordes of mosquitoes and the caribou of their lone spaces at Indian +House Lake. The cluster of houses at Nain looked to them as New York +would seem to one who had always dwelt in the heart of the Maine +woods.</p> + +<p>By morning, after a sound sleep on the floor, they were eager to begin +trading.</p> + +<p>A southern Indian translated.</p> + +<p>They had brought deerskins chiefly. There are few valuable furs in +their part of Labrador, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>but they did their best to make a brave +showing with the few they were able to find.</p> + +<p>You can imagine their people at home at Indian House Lake saying +before the start of the expedition: "Oh, if we only had some beaver or +marten skins! Wouldn't it be nice, now, if we could get a silver or a +cross fox? Those people down there at the coast know such a lot, and +are so rich, and so particular! Nothing but the very best we have will +do."</p> + +<p>They held up a bearskin with great pride. They had a wolverine,—the +only sort of fur on which snow will not freeze,—several wolf-skins, +and moccasins, embroidered. The translator would point to what they +wanted on the shelves. Then they would take the object in their hands +and weigh it very carefully, thinking of all those portages on the +homeward trail—probably twenty at least—over which every ounce must +be carried on a man's shoulders.</p> + +<p>They bought lots of tea—one man getting as much as sixteen pounds. +They wanted gay prints. Other things to which they took a fancy were +tobacco, cartridges, fish-hooks, matches, needles, and pearl buttons. +First they handed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>over the skins, and received money in return: then +they spent the money. Mouth-organs were much in demand, and they +looked longingly at an accordeon and tried to play on it and were +enchanted with the squawks that came out: but they were not rich +enough to buy it. One boy bought a clay pipe, and spent all his time +licking it. They were not allowed to smoke in the store, but they spat +wherever they pleased.</p> + +<p>Doctor and Mrs. Grenfell are out on the war-path against this +disgusting custom, and they have had very hard work to persuade even +the "liveyeres" that there is danger concealed in germs that cannot be +seen, when saliva dries and the wind blows it about. In all this +glorious fresh air it is mournful to think of the many who die of +consumption, pneumonia and all sorts of lung-trouble, because of +stifling houses and unclean habits.</p> + +<p>The Indians at first were extremely shy. Then they waxed merry, and as +they bought they laughed and chatted. In the party were three women. +One of them was young and good-looking, and she was showered with +presents—kettles, cups and saucers, perfumed soap and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>cologne! A +young man bought for her anything she wanted—and every time he made a +purchase for the fair one the others laughed aloud. And each time he +bestowed a gift, one of the other women turned to her husband and made +him buy the same thing for her. Human nature is the same on the +Labrador as on Coney Island.</p> + +<p>It took two days for them to do their buying, and wrap up their +purchases, and say farewell.</p> + +<p>By this time Indians and Eskimo were sworn friends.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo crowded to the end of the little pier, and knelt down to +reach over and grasp the hands of the parting guests. There were +shouts of "Yomai!" from the Indians, and various cries in answer from +the Eskimo. Then, crouching on their heels, the Indians trimmed their +sails to the breeze and were borne swiftly round the point to be seen +no more.</p> + +<p>How different is all this from the days of old, when the Eskimo were +called "the most savage people in the world!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="IX" id="IX"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>IX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>ALONE ON THE ICE</h4> +<br /> + +<p>In April, 1908, Dr. Grenfell had the closest call of his life. Of +course in April the ice and snow are still deep over the bays and +forelands of Labrador and northern Newfoundland. There is not the +slightest sign that spring with its flowers and mosquitoes is coming. +All travel save by dog-team is at a standstill, and only a +life-and-death message—such as Dr. Grenfell is constantly getting—is +a reason for facing the howling winds and the driving snows of the +blizzards that the bravest seamen and the mightiest hunters have good +reason to fear.</p> + +<p>On Easter Sunday morning at his St. Anthony home Dr. Grenfell was +walking back from the little church to his house after the morning +service, thinking of the sermon, and of his mother in England.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a boy came running after him from the hospital near by.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Doctor, Doctor!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>The Doctor turned in his deep, floundering steps to see who it was +that called him.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," panted the small messenger, "I came to the hospital to fetch +ye. There's a man with dogs, from sixty mile away down to the south, +and he says they must have a doctor come to 'em, right off, or the +boy'll die."</p> + +<p>The Doctor put his kind hand on the little fellow's shoulder. "Who is +it that is sick?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno, Doctor, but he's wonderful sick. He'll die unless ye come."</p> + +<p>The Doctor thought a moment—then he remembered. It was a young man on +whom he had operated two weeks before, for a bone disease that was +eating away his thigh.</p> + +<p>Those who had tried to help him had closed up the wound—the worst +thing to do. The poison had collected, and probably the leg would have +to be taken off.</p> + +<p>The Doctor knew that every minute counted. He went to his kennels in +the snow and picked out his sturdiest dog-team. They whined and pawed +and jumped up and down, eager to be chosen. The real "husky" hates to +loaf, except when he has come in from a long, hard run late <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>at night +and has had his meal of fish. He wants to be at work all the time, and +when the sled is loaded the dogs must be tied up tight or they will +dart away at breakneck speed and perhaps upset everything. This sleigh +was heavy-laden with instruments, drugs and dressings. A second team +was to follow, with the messengers.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell loved, as with a personal affection, every one of the +five beasts that were taking him on this long haul to save a boy's +life.</p> + +<p>First came "Brin," by common consent the surest leader anywhere on the +coast. The strongest dog of the team—big and affectionate and +playful—was "Doc." A black and white dog whose muscles were like +small wire ropes, was "Spy," and "Moody," now in his third year, was a +black-and-tan named for Dr. Grenfell's friend Will Moody, son of the +evangelist. "Moody" had the reputation of never looking behind him: he +was eager to go on to the bitter end.</p> + +<p>The youngest dog of the team, named "Watch," had beautiful soft eyes, +a Gordon setter coat, and long legs capable of carrying him over the +frozen crust at a tremendous rate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>of speed. Then there was "Sue," the +most wolf-like of the lot—black as jet, her pointed ears the standing +question-marks for further orders. "Jerry" was a perfect lady, quick +on her feet as a dancer, and so fond of play and so demonstrative that +she often tipped the Doctor over when he had a boxing-bout with her, +and sent him sprawling on his back in the snow.</p> + +<p>"Jack," a black dog with the looks and the ways of a retriever, had +"Moody's" good habit of going straight on without turning to see who +followed, and he was put in the position of trust nearest the sledge. +He liked to run with his nose close to the ground, and nothing that +the trail or the snow-crust could tell any wise "husky" dog was a +secret to the busy nose of this gentle-natured fellow.</p> + +<p>Do you wonder that Dr. Grenfell was proud and fond of these +four-legged helpers, and that he gave them the tender care one bestows +on children? It would have grieved him to the heart to think of any +accident happening to any of them. He looked on them just as a Captain +Scott or a Sir Ernest Shackleton regarded his mates on a Polar +expedition. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>were his friends and helpers. Some of them had stood +by him in many a hard tussle with the cold and the stinging hail, with +the rotten ice threatening to let them down into the river or the sea. +With their bushy tails thrown over them like fur wraps, they had slept +in the snow-drift round his camp-fires. They seemed to him like human +beings, his little brothers. As he is fond of saying, "Dogs are much +nicer than a Ford car. A Ford car can't come and kiss you good-night."</p> + +<p>Since it was late April, and the melting ice might mean a soaking any +moment, Grenfell carried a spare outfit—a change of clothes, an +oilskin suit, snowshoes, an axe, a rifle, a compass. He knew there was +no place to stop and get any of these things if he should lose them. +The most daring skipper of a boat or driver of a sled along the coast, +the Doctor takes no chances when it comes to his equipment.</p> + +<p>Though the messengers had broken the trail on the up journey, they +preferred to fall in behind the Doctor on the down trip. They knew +that he would want to travel like the wind. They felt a certain +security and comfort in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>letting him take the lead. It relieved them +of a lot of responsibility for setting the course. There are always +people traveling in Grenfell's wake who are willing to let him make +the hard choices and take the daring chances. But a good reason for +Grenfell's going first this time was that his picked team of young, +strong, spry dogs were hustlers, whom it would be impossible to hold +back, and the other dogs were heavier and slower.</p> + +<p>Although Grenfell in the twenty miles before nightfall twice called a +halt, the slower team behind him was unable to catch up. He reached a +small hamlet and had given his eager dogs their supper of two fish +apiece, and was gathering the people together for prayers when the +second team overtook him.</p> + +<p>In the night the weather changed. The wind began to blow from the +northeast; a fog set in, with rain. The snow became mushy, to make +hard going, and out in the bay the sea was ugly, with the water +heaving the ice-pans about. The plan for the coming day was to make a +run of forty miles, the first ten miles a short cut across a bay, over +the salt-water ice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>Grenfell did not want to get too far from his convoy, and so he let +the second team start on ahead, with a lead of two hours.</p> + +<p>He told them just where to call a halt and wait for him. There was a +log hut, or "tilt," at the half-way point. Since there was no one +living on that part of the very lonely coast-line, this hut was a +refuge fitted out with anything that a shipwrecked mariner or a +benighted traveler by land might need—dry clothes, food, and +medicines.</p> + +<p>"You go to the hut and wait there till I come," were the Doctor's +final orders.</p> + +<p>The rain began to fall, and when Grenfell got under way it was such +treacherous going that he couldn't cut straight across the bay as he +wished, but had to keep closer to the land. The sea had risen in its +wrath and thrown the pans of ice about, so that there were wide spaces +between, and half a mile out from the shore it was clear water.</p> + +<p>But far out from the shore there was an island, and by a daring series +of jumps across the cracks,—the dogs as buoyant as their master, +hauling the sled as though it were a load of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>feathers,—Grenfell +reached the island, and made the dogs rest—a hard thing to do—while +he looked about him to see where the next lap of the journey would +take him and them.</p> + +<p>It was four miles, he knew, to a rocky headland over yonder, if he +ventured out on that uncertain field of ice. That would save several +miles over the more prudent course alongshore.</p> + +<p>As far as he could see, the ice looked as though it would hold up the +sled. It was rough—but a hardened voyager with a dog-team is +accustomed to a hummocky road. It looked as if the sea had torn it up, +as men tear up the paving blocks in a city street, and then thrown the +bits together to make a hard, cohesive mass that men and dogs could +surely trust. The strong wind seemed to have packed it in and the +intense cold of the night, he supposed, had frozen it solid.</p> + +<p>The wind died down, and Grenfell found that he was deep in what is +known as "sish"—soft ice as mushy as the name sounds. He compares it +to oatmeal, and it must have been many feet deep. There was a thin +coating of new ice on top of it, through which the whip-handle easily +pierced.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>The "sish" ice is composed of the small fragments chipped off the +floes after the pounding and grinding between the millstones of the +great winds and the heavy seas. The changing breeze now blew from +offshore, and instead of packing the ice together it was driving it +apart. The packed "slob" was "running abroad," as the fisher-folk say. +The ice-pans were so small that there was hardly one as large as a +table-top.</p> + +<p>By this time the team had come to a halt on one of these tiny pans, +and with the other pans floating about as the entire sheet was +breaking up the peril was evident. It was not possible to go back—the +way was cut off by the widening spaces between the pans. Only about a +quarter of a mile was left between their pan and the shore.</p> + +<p>Grenfell threw off his oilskins, knelt by the side of the komatik, and +ordered the dogs to make for the shore.</p> + +<p>It takes a great deal to "rattle" a husky. But the dogs, after about +twenty yards of half-wading, half-swimming, were thoroughly +frightened. They stopped, and the sled sank into the ice. With the +sled in the freezing water, it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>necessary for the dogs to pull +hard, and now they too began to sink.</p> + +<p>Not long before, the father of the boy to whom the Doctor was going +was drowned by being tangled in the dog's traces in just such a place +as this. To avoid that danger, Grenfell got out his knife, and cut the +traces in the water.</p> + +<p>But he still kept hold of the leader's trace, which he wound about his +wrist.</p> + +<p>In the water there was not a piece of ice to be seen in which dogs or +driver could put their trust. The dogs were as eager as their master +to find something to cling to. Care-free and jolly as they had been +hitherto, they knew as well as he that death by drowning stared their +little caravan in the face.</p> + +<p>About twenty-five yards away there was a big lump of snow, such as +children put up when they mean to make a snow-man. The leading dog, +"Brin," as he wallowed about managed to reach it, at the end of his +long trace of about sixty feet. "Brin" had black marks on his face, +which made it look as though he were laughing all the time, like one +who finds this world a grand, good joke. When he clambered out on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>the +hummock he shook his coat and turned round and gazed calmly at his +master.</p> + +<p>"He seemed to be grinning at me," says the Doctor.</p> + +<p>But it was no laughing matter for the other dogs, floundering about.</p> + +<p>Grenfell hauled himself along toward "Brin" by means of the trace +still attached to his wrist. But suddenly "Brin" stepped out of his +harness, and then the Doctor found himself sprawling and struggling in +the water, with no means of getting to the place where "Brin" had +found temporary safety.</p> + +<p>Grenfell thought this time it was all over. He had looked Death in the +eyes before, but Death had decided to go by. This time, it did not +seem possible to escape. He did not feel any great alarm—in fact, he +became drowsy, and thought how easy it would be just to fall asleep +and forget everything, as the icy water chilled and numbed his senses. +He was like the weary traveler who drops into the snow-bank, on whom +the torpor steals by slow degrees.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Grenfell caught sight of a big dog that had gone through the +ice and was pulling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>the trace after him, in a desperate effort to +reach the hummock on which "Brin" was sitting. Grenfell grabbed the +trace, and hauled himself along after the animal. He calls this "using +the dog as a bow anchor."</p> + +<p>But the other dogs were following this poor beast's example, and they +crowded and jostled the Doctor so that it was hard for him to hold on. +One of them, in fact, got on his shoulder, very much as a drowning man +in his desperation will throw his arms round the neck of someone who +tries to rescue him, and drag him under. This pushed Grenfell still +deeper into the ice, and it was a question whether his energy would +hold out in that frigid water.</p> + +<p>As they say on the football field, he now had only three yards to +gain, and by a mighty effort he drew himself past his living anchor +and climbed up on the piece of slob ice. He rested a moment to draw +breath, and then began to haul his beloved dogs one after another up +to a place beside him. They swam and panted through the lane in the +ice that he had broken, and seemed to understand perfectly that their +master was trying to save them, even though they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>had lost their heads +and had almost drowned him.</p> + +<p>It would not do for them all to remain on that small, treacherous lump +of ice. It might break in two at any moment with the combined weight +of dogs and driver. It was slowly drifting with the tidal current out +to the open sea, where all hope would be lost. Grenfell knew that if +he were to save his team and himself—they were always first in his +thoughts—he must act instantly.</p> + +<p>He stood up to survey the scene. About twenty yards away there was a +good-sized pan floating about in the "sish" like a raft, such as that +on which Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer floated down the Mississippi. To +reach that raft would at any rate be to postpone death for a little +while. But it was taking too much of a risk, to try to get from the +little cake to the big one without a life line. How was he to make +such a line, and then how was he to get it across the wide space +between?</p> + +<p>Fortunately when the Doctor cut the dogs away from the sled he had not +lost his knife: he had tied it to the back of one of the dogs. There +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>it was still. It was the work of a joyful moment to untie it, and he +fell to work cutting from the dogs' harness the sealskin traces that +remained and stringing those together to make two long lines. His +overalls, coat, hat and gloves were gone, but he still had his +sealskin hip-boots. He took these off, shook them free from ice and +water, and tied them on the backs of "Brin" and another dog. Then he +fastened the lines to the two animals, tying the near ends round his +wrists.</p> + +<p>"Hist!" he shouted—the signal to go on: but the dogs refused to +budge. They were setting their own wits against their master's. Such +dogs believe they know their business. They saw no proper place to go +to. Why should they dash into the icy water for the sake of reaching +another pan not much bigger than their own? If it were land—that +would be another story. So they must have reasoned, in their doggish +fashion. They had been devoted and obedient—but there were limits +even to their faith.</p> + +<p>Grenfell three times threw the dogs off the Pan. Each time they +struggled back upon it: and their master could not blame them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>"This is really the end!" Grenfell told himself. "We never shall get +out of this!"</p> + +<p>Just as a boy sometimes comes up to the scratch where a man has +failed, a small dog may play the hero when a big one quits. That was +the case here. The smallest dog of the lot, "Jack," came to the +rescue. He was so small that he was not taken very seriously for his +hauling power—but when it came to hunting, he was there with all four +paws, and he was used as retriever when Dr. Grenfell went out with a +gun. Here was a chance for him to show the stuff that was in his +black, rough hide.</p> + +<p>"Jack!" said the Doctor. "Hist! Hist!" And he pointed to the other +pan, and threw a piece of ice in that direction.</p> + +<p>"Jack" understood and instantly obeyed. In little more time than it +takes to tell of it, his furry paws had taken his small body through +and over the rotten mush. Since he was the lightest of the lot, he +scarcely sank below the surface as he went. "His frame was little but +his soul was large."</p> + +<p>When he got there he turned about, wagging his tail as a flag-signal, +his tongue lolling out, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>his whole attitude seeming to say, "Well, +aren't you pleased with me?"</p> + +<p>"Lie down!" shouted Grenfell, and the dog at once obeyed—"a little +black fuzz ball on the white setting."</p> + +<p>That was an object lesson to "Brin" and the other dog. The next time +he threw them off they made directly for the other pan. It was a hard +fight to get there, but they must have said to themselves: "What dog +has done, dog can do. If that little fellow can turn the trick, so can +we." So they plashed and floundered through, their heads barely above +the waves, and the salt spray in their eyes, till they had carried the +lines across. The traces had been knotted securely under their +bellies, so they could not come off when the Doctor pulled with the +weight of his body against the lines.</p> + +<p>He took as much of a run as he could get in the few feet from side to +side of the pan, and dived headlong into the "slob." It was a long, +hard pull, but the lines held, and the dogs too, so that presently he +found himself scrambling up beside them on the other pan where they +were waiting with little "Jack."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>To his crushing disappointment, Dr. Grenfell found that the place +where he now clung was if anything worse than the spot he had left. By +this time all the other dogs but one poor fellow had made the +distance, and were beside him, their eyes asking the piteous questions +their tongues could not utter.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean, master? What are you going to do with us now? +Which is the way home? Why don't we start? How soon are we going to +have our suppers?"</p> + +<p>The pan was sinking: it could not hold them all. They must get off it +at the earliest possible moment. This pan was nearer the shore than +the one they had left, but all the time an offshore wind was shoving +the entire ice-pack steadily out toward the open sea, so that, like +the frog in the well, for every foot they gained they were losing two +or three. All this time, Grenfell was longing for a chance to swim +ashore—and the dogs would have followed him in that. Grenfell doesn't +in the least mind a bath in icy waters. I remember one nipping day on +the <i>Strathcona</i> I came out on deck to find that he had just been +taking his bath in the open by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>emptying the bucket over himself in +the biting wind. "You could have had one too," he said, "but I've just +lost the bucket overboard." I wonder that he didn't dive for it, as he +dived for the cricket-ball on that earlier occasion.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to swim ashore from the pan—because there was that +slushy "sish" filling all the gaps. The tiny table-top on which they +were now crowded together measured about ten by twelve feet. It was +not even solid ice—it was more like a great snowball loosely packed +by the cold wind—and at any moment under the extra strain of the +weight of men and dogs it might break up and let them all down into a +watery grave. As the wind became more brisk and the sea grew rougher, +the pan rocked about and bent and swayed, and the risk of its parting +in the middle increased.</p> + +<p>The pan headed toward a rocky point, where heavy surf was breaking: +and a hope sprang up in Grenfell's heart that he might get near enough +to swim ashore after all. But then the worst possible thing happened, +short of an utter break-up. The pan hit a rock, and a large piece of +it broke off. Then the rest of it swung round and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>the wind took hold +of it, like a fiend alive, and started to push it steadily out to sea +again.</p> + +<p>The sea has been compared to a cat, which in calm weather purrs at +your feet and in a storm will reveal its true nature and crack your +bones and eat you. Now it was cruelly teasing Grenfell and his +four-footed comrades as a cat tortures a mouse before it kills. The +last hope seemed to have gone—unless someone by a miracle should pass +along the shore and spy that tiny object on the horizon, and summon +others to help him launch a boat to the rescue.</p> + +<p>But no one lives on the shore of that huge bay. The other sled by now +was so far ahead that it would be a long time before those with it +could come back to make a search, even after they felt sufficiently +alarmed to do so.</p> + +<p>Cold and keen and marrow-searching, the brutal west wind—the worst of +all in the spring of the year—moaned and whistled over the ice to the +benumbed Doctor, and an additional exasperation was the fact that the +komatik, from which he had been compelled to cut the dogs loose, had +bobbed up to the surface again, and could now be seen not fifty yards +away, but just <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>as un-get-atable as if it were a mile off. There it +stood to tantalize him, in the slush, and he knew that it had aboard +everything he now wanted so acutely. There were dry clothes, wood and +matches to make a signal fire, food and even a thermos bottle with hot +tea!</p> + +<p>The slender hope of being seen from the shore diminished as Grenfell +thought of how inconspicuous he was, nearly naked, his dogs about him. +Crusoe alone on his isle of solid ground was a king of space by +comparison. Should he escape it would be the first time that a man +adrift on the offshore ice had come ashore to tell the tale. Nearly +anybody gazing seaward—even if anybody saw—would say: "Oh, that's +just a piece of kelp or a bush!" The wiseacres refuse to be fooled by +such sights. They are like the Arabs of the desert, who refuse to get +excited over a mirage.</p> + +<p>That he might not freeze to death before he drowned, Grenfell cut off +those long top boots down to their moccasin feet, split the legs, and +managed to tie them together into a makeshift for a jacket which at +least protected his back from the fiercest biting of the wind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>Presently as Grenfell watched the widening interval between himself +and the island he had left so comfortably a few hours before, he saw +the komatik with its load up-end and vanish through the ice, as though +it grew tired of waiting for him to make a try for it. The +disappearance was one more sign of the general break-up of the ice on +all sides of him, as his frail ice-pan neared the wide-open mouth of +the bay. The white plain over which he had trudged from the island +with the dogs had almost disappeared. The island was evidently +surrounded on all sides by water and "sish," so that even if he could +get back to it he would be cut off from the shore.</p> + +<p>There were eight dogs on the pan. Slowly, slowly he was making up his +mind to the hardest of all decisions. It was a choice between his own +life and the lives of some of the animals he loved so well.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="X" id="X"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>X<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>A FIGHT WITH THE SEA</h4> +<br /> + +<p>No boat could come out from the shore through the sort of sea that was +now running. The great pans of ice, rising and falling on the waves, +were crashing and charging into the cliffs alongshore "like medieval +battering-rams," and the white spray dashed high against the rocks +with a sullen roar as of artillery. It would be necessary to skin some +of the dogs and use their pelts for blankets, in order to escape +freezing in the terrible cold of the oncoming night. Imagine how hard +it was for their master to choose which should be slain!</p> + +<p>He had the sealskin traces wound about his waist, to keep the hungry +animals from devouring them. He now undid them, and made a hangman's +noose. This he slipped over the head of one of the dogs. Then he threw +the animal on his back, put his foot on his neck, and stabbed him to +the heart. The struggling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>creature bit his master—a deep gash—in +the leg, but Grenfell kept the knife in the dog till the poor beast +lay still, that the blood might not spurt out and freeze on the skin. +Two more animals were put to death in the same fashion, and one of +them bit him again in the death throes. So violent was the battle that +the Doctor fully expected the pan to break up as they fought, and let +them all into the sea.</p> + +<p>With the strange indifference that "huskies" generally show to the +fate of their fellows, the other dogs were licking their coats and +trying to dry themselves. The Doctor had done his best to stifle the +cries of the slain animals, for these would have roused them to a +frenzy and led them to fall upon the under dog, and upon one another +as well, and a general fight at such close quarters would have been +disastrous.</p> + +<p>He found himself envying the dead dogs, and wondering whether, when +they came to the open sea, it would not be better to use his knife on +himself than to die, inch by agonizing inch, in the freezing water.</p> + +<p>When the dogs were skinned, and the harness had been used to lash the +skins together, it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>nearly dark, and they were fully ten miles out +at sea.</p> + +<p>To the north he spied a solitary light, twinkling from the village he +had left in the morning. He thought of the fishermen sitting down to +their tea: and he knew they would not think of him as in danger, for +he had told them he would not be back for three days. And all the +"liveyeres" think of Grenfell as a man who knows the coast so well, +and the ways of getting about, that he is far more likely to give help +than to ask it of them.</p> + +<p>He had unraveled a small piece of rope, and soaked this in fat from +the entrails of a dog, thinking he might make a torch of it. But his +match-box, which he wore on a chain, had leaked. Fishermen will tell +you how hard it is to find a match-box that will not let in water: I +prize one I have carried a great many years, which seems to be +waterproof. I wish Grenfell had had it then. The matches were a pulp. +Nevertheless Grenfell kept them, thinking that they might be dried and +usable by morning. Every now and then, by a sort of mechanical +instinct, the Doctor would rise to his full height <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>and wave his hands +toward the land, in the forlorn hope of being seen through a powerful +glass.</p> + +<p>There was nothing but his hands to wave. He dared not let his shirt +fly as a flag: it would not do to take it off too long at any time, +because of the piercing cold.</p> + +<p>Nor would it be safe to pile up snow from the pan to break the force +of the wind, for the pan might give way if it were thinned out +anywhere. So he placed the dog-skins in a pile, sat on them, and +changed his clothes, wringing them out, and flapping them in the wind, +then putting them by turns against his body. The exercise at least +postponed the coming of the last hour of all.</p> + +<p>The moccasins let the water through so easily that it was impossible +for him to dry his feet. Then he remembered a trick of the Lapps, who +had been brought over to care for the reindeer which Grenfell was +striving to introduce at St. Anthony in place of the dogs. The Lapps +have a way of tying grass in pads about their feet. On the harness of +the dogs there was flannel, to make it soft where it rubbed against +the flanks. The Doctor cut off the flannel, raveled out the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>rest of +the rope, stuffed his shoes with the fragments of rope, and wound the +flannel about his legs like puttees. If the situation were not so +serious, he might have laughed at the outfit in which he faced the +night wind, for the Oxford University running trunks and the Richmond +Football Club red, yellow and black stockings were garments he had +worn twenty years before and had recently found in a box of old +clothes.</p> + +<p>What was left over of the rope was stuffed inside the flannel shirt +and the trunks, which with the stockings and sweater vest made up the +Doctor's complete costume. Then he made "Doc," his biggest dog, lie +down, so that he might curl up beside him and use him as a kind of +fireless stove. He wrapped the three skins round his body, +and—strange to say—fell asleep. One hand kept warm against "Doc's" +hide, but the other froze,—since the Doctor had lost his gloves. Even +so, Edward Whymper camping out on the volcano Cotopaxi in Ecuador +found his tent too hot on the side next the volcano and too cold on +the other side.</p> + +<p>Grenfell awoke, his teeth chattering and his body shivering. He +thought for an instant he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>was looking at the sunrise, but it was the +moon, and he guessed it must be about half an hour after midnight. +"Doc" didn't at all relish having his slumber disturbed. He was warm +and comfortable, and he growled his remonstrance, deep down in his +throat, till he discovered that it was his master and not another dog +against his cushioned ribs.</p> + +<p>For a great mercy, the wind died down, and stopped pushing the ice-pan +out into the dreaded North Atlantic. Just out yonder, not sixty feet +away, was a cake of ice much bigger than his own. It would have made a +fine raft for them all: and if only they could have reached it, +Grenfell was sure he could have held out for two or three days. He +could have killed off the dogs one by one, eaten the flesh, and drunk +the warm blood. The Eskimo would think such a meal luxury. On his +little pan, the effort to kill each dog would mean the risk of +drowning every time.</p> + +<p>At daybreak, Grenfell remembered, men would be starting from Goose +Cove with their sleds to go twenty miles to a parade of Orangemen. +With this thought in his mind he fell <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>asleep again. Then he woke with +a sharp realization of the fact that he must have some kind of flag +with which to signal them. He made up his mind that as soon as it was +daylight he would use his shirt for a flag—but the pole was lacking. +So in the dark he wrenched the bodies of the dead dogs apart—an +extremely difficult task with the tough, frozen muscles and fibres. +But he made what he says was "the heaviest and crookedest flagpole it +has ever been my lot to see," lashing the bones together with his bits +of rope and the remains of the seal traces.</p> + +<p>By this time he was almost starving, since he had not yet been able to +bring himself to the point of devouring his comrades. His last meal +had been porridge and bread and butter, nearly twenty-four hours +before. Round one leg was a rubber band which had replaced a broken +garter. He chewed on this constantly, and somehow it seemed to help +him from being overcome with hunger and thirst.</p> + +<p>No more welcome sight—except that of men to the rescue—could there +have been than the face of the rising sun. When he took off his shirt +to run it up as a flag, he found that it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>not so cold as it had +been. His skeleton flagpole as he tried to wave it bent and +buckled—but he found that by means of it he could raise his +shirt-flag three or four feet over his head, and the least additional +height meant much to his slim chance of being spied from the shore.</p> + +<p>The wind, too, had been carrying him back toward the shore, at a +rugged point called Ireland Head. Unhappily for the man at sea, the +little fishing-village there was deserted in winter: the people had +shifted, bag and baggage, to another settlement where they could get +teaching for their children and see more of other people.</p> + +<p>Now it settled down to a severe endurance test. If Grenfell had been +fresh with comfortable sleep, and well-fed, it might not have been so +serious a business to keep that gruesome "flag" of his waving aloft to +attract the keen eye of someone ashore. But as it was, he must keep +the terribly heavy banner of dog-pelts swinging to and fro with his +strength at a low ebb, and hope barely alive in his heart. Again, his +imagination began to play cruel tricks with him. He thought he saw men +moving: but they were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>trees blown by the wind. Then to his joy it +seemed that a boat was approaching: he thought he saw it rising and +falling on the waves, as the oars drove it onward. He wanted the boat +to come so much that the wish was father to the thought. Instead—it +was only the glitter of the sun on a block of ice bobbing up and down.</p> + +<p>Whenever the Doctor sat down to rest, faithful old "Doc" would lick +his face, and then roam about the ice-pan, coming back again and again +to where the Doctor sat, his eyes and his ears asking: "Well, why +aren't we starting? What is the matter? Isn't it time to be under +way?" On a sunny day on the trail amid ice and snow the "husky" seeks +some good reason for not being in the traces, tugging and hauling with +his mates. The other dogs, following his example, were roaming about, +and sometimes they would bite at the bodies of the slain dogs, +wondering, no doubt, how soon their master would hand out to them the +square meal of fish or seal-meat to which they were accustomed.</p> + +<p>For his own midday meal, Grenfell had begun to plan another +killing—that of one of the bigger dogs, whose blood he would drink. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>Nansen had to do the same thing, according to the story told in his +book "Farthest North," which Grenfell had been reading only a few days +before. It might be a hard battle to conquer one of the big dogs, as +he himself grew weaker. But fear had not once entered the Doctor's +mind. His uppermost sensation now was a desire to sleep—and if death +came after that, it would only be the answer to a question he had many +times asked himself.</p> + +<p>He looked at the precious matches, to see if they were dry. The heads +were a paste, except the blue tips of three or four wax matches. If +the latter could be dried, they might be used. Once I gave Dr. +Grenfell a bottle of the same kind of matches, and he said: "I'd +rather have those than a five-dollar bill." If no air is stirring they +will burn with a tall, strong flame for a minute or more, clean down +to the bottom.</p> + +<p>He laid the matches out to dry, and looked about for a piece of +transparent ice which would do for a burning glass. With the tow he +had stuffed into his leggings, and the fat from the slain dogs, he +thought he could produce a plume <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>of smoke to be seen from the land, +if he could get a light. He found a piece of ice which he thought +would serve his purpose, and was just about to wave his "flag" again +when he saw something that made his heart stand still for an instant.</p> + +<p>Was it—could it be—the glitter of an oar-blade rising and falling?</p> + +<p>But no—it could not be. It was not clear water, but the "slob ice," +probably too heavy for a rowboat to pierce, which lay between the pan +and the beach. There had been no smoke-signal from the land, no gun +discharged, no fire kindled: one of these things would be sure to +happen, had anybody caught sight of him or of the unwieldy banner that +he had raised aloft so many times.</p> + +<p>By this time Grenfell was partly snow-blind, for he had lost his dark +glasses. As he raised his "flag" again, however, it seemed to him that +the glitter was more distinct. It seemed to be coming nearer. With his +hopes now mounting, he lifted the skins as high as he could, and waved +with all his might. Now he could see not only a white oar-blade, but a +black hull. If the pan <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>would hold together an hour more, his rescue +was assured.</p> + +<p>Queer tricks the mind of a man will play at such a time. Our boys in +the war thought so much of saving helmets, pistols and belt-buckles +from the battlefields that it has been said the war was fought for +souvenirs. Even in the hospital where they lay suffering with the most +dreadful wounds, they were more anxious for those precious relics than +they were for their own recovery.</p> + +<p>And so, coming back out of the jaws of icy death, Grenfell was +thinking: "I wonder what trophies I can save, to take home and put up +in my study." He had a picture in his mind's eye of the dog-bone +flagstaff, hanging over the big fireplace in the living-room at St. +Anthony. (Later, the dogs "beat him to it," and devoured the bones +with relish, as a child would eat candy.) Then he thought how +picturesque those queer puttees would look, hanging on the wall with +snowshoes and lynx-skins. The "burning-glass" was forgotten where it +lay. As a reception-committee of one, rehearsing the speech of +welcome, Grenfell roamed to and fro, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>with the restlessness of a caged +leopard in the Zoo at feeding-time. They couldn't very well miss him +now—but he could remember harrowing tales he had read when he was a +boy, of a man on a desert island who scanned the horizon many days for +a sail. Then a ship came along, missed the frantic watcher, and sailed +away, leaving him to utter despair. He did not intend that this should +happen to him now. To his delight, he could see that the rescuers by +this time were waving back, in answer to his signals. Presently he +could hear them shouting: "Don't get excited! Keep on the pan where +you are!"</p> + +<p>They were far more excited than he was: for it now seemed as natural +to Grenfell to be saved as, a little while before, it had seemed to +perish where so many good men had been swallowed up before him as they +went to their business in great waters. Nearer and nearer they came, +plying the oars valiantly, till the snub nose of the boat was thrust +into the soft edge of the pan, as a dog's muzzle is thrust into a +man's hand.</p> + +<p>The man in the bow jumped from the boat and took both of the Doctor's +hands. Neither said a word. At such moments men do not care <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>much to +speak. You remember how Stanley hunted Africa for Livingstone, and in +the thrilling moment when at last the two men came together Stanley +simply walked up to the missionary, put out his hand, and said: "Dr. +Livingstone, I presume?"</p> + +<p>But the tears rolled down the cheeks of the honest fisherman, despite +his silence.</p> + +<p>The boatmen had brought a bottle of warm tea, and one can imagine how +much good it did Grenfell after going without food and drink so long a +time. The dogs were put in the boat, and strong arms drove the vessel +shoreward. Five big, stalwart Newfoundlanders were at the oars,—all +of them devoted to the Doctor, and rejoicing that they had come in +time to save him. How often, in a dark hour, he had proved himself +their friend! He had turned out in the dead of night to help them and +their families: they knew he was on his way to aid one of their number +now. There was nothing they would not do for him: it would be a small +return for all he had done to earn their gratitude already.</p> + +<p>It wasn't all plain rowing, by any means. Now and then the boat would +get jammed in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>ice-pack so that they all must clamber out and lift +the stout vessel over the pans. Sometimes men had to stand in the bows +and force the pans apart, using their oars after the fashion of +crowbars. For a long time as they fought onward very little was said. +They were saving their breath for their work. But as they rested on +their oars and mopped their brows with their tattered sleeves, +Grenfell asked: "How under the sun did you happen to be out in the ice +in this boat?"</p> + +<p>They said that on the night before four men had gone out on a headland +to get some harp seals which they had left to freeze there during the +winter. As they were starting home, one of them thought he saw an +ice-pan with something on it, drifting out to sea. When they got back +to the village, and told their neighbors, the latter said it must be +just the top of a tree. There was one man in the village who had a +good spy-glass.</p> + +<p>He left his supper instantly, and ran out to the edge of the cliffs. +Yes, he said, there was a man out yonder on the ice. He could see him +wave his arms—and he declared it must be the Doctor, who had started +out that morning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>Even though night was falling, and the wind was coming on, they wanted +to launch a boat, but it would have been no use: and they decided to +wait until morning. The sea was taking up the blocks of ice and +hurling them on the beach, just as it used to throw the little +fishing-smacks over the sea-wall at Grenfell's boyhood home.</p> + +<p>Messengers went up and down the coast: look-outs were stationed: many +were watching, and some were weeping, all the while that Grenfell +thought nobody saw him and that he was waving in vain.</p> + +<p>Before daybreak, these five volunteers had manned the boat. They took +an awful risk in such seething waters. Just a little while before, a +fisherman's wife said good-by to her husband and three sons when they +started to row out toward a ship that was signaling with flags for a +pilot. All four were drowned in spite of their cool and skilful +seamanship.</p> + +<p>The people had come from far and near to see the landing. They rushed +into the surf to be the first to shake the Doctor's hands. They seized +them and shook them so heartily that he did not find out till later +that they had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>badly frost-bitten. It was not a pretty object the +villagers greeted. Says the Doctor: "I must have been a weird sight as +I stepped ashore, tied up in rags, stuffed out with oakum, wrapped in +the bloody skins of dogs, with no hat, coat, or gloves besides, and +only a pair of short knickers. It must have seemed to some as if it +were the old man of the sea coming ashore."</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep198" id="imagep198"></a> +<a href="images/imagep198.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep198.jpg" width="85%" alt="Who Said "Halt"?" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Who Said "Halt"?<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Copious draughts of hot tea, and almost equally liquid Irish stew went +to the right spot. Grenfell as a veteran was wise enough not to eat +too much all at once. That is the danger, after one has been without +food so long.</p> + +<p>They dressed Grenfell in the warm clothes fishermen wear, and hauled +him back to the St. Anthony hospital. That ride was no fun at all. The +jolting racked his weary bones and his feet were so frozen that he +could not walk. There, two days later, they brought to him the boy on +whom he was to have operated at his own home. The operation was a +complete success.</p> + +<p>The other dogs lived long and pulled the Doctor many leagues on +errands of mercy: but he mourned the loss of the three who perished +that he might survive. I have seen on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>glass-enclosed veranda of +the Doctor's home at St. Anthony the brass tablet with its +inscription:</p> + +<br /> + +<p class="cen"><i>TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> + Three Noble Dogs<br /> + MOODY<br /> + WATCH<br /> + SPY<br /> + Whose Lives Were Given<br /> + For Mine on the Ice<br /> + April 21st, 1908<br /> + Wilfred Grenfell<br /> + St. Anthony</i></p> + +<br /> + +<p>The men who came to the rescue wanted no reward. To have the Doctor +back in their midst again was all they desired. But the Doctor +insisted on giving them tokens of his gratitude. As George Andrews +said:</p> + +<p>"'E sent us watches, an' spy-glasses, an' pictures o' himself made +large an' in a frame. George Read an' me 'ad th' watches an' th' +others 'ad th' spy-glasses. 'Eere's th' watch. It 'as 'In memory o' +April 21st' on it, but us don't need th' things to make we remember +it, though we're wonderful glad t' 'ave 'em from th' Doctor."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XI" id="XI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE KIDNAPPERS</h4> +<br /> + +<p>One day, as Grenfell was about to leave northern Labrador in his +little steamer the <i>Strathcona</i>, a man came aboard with trouble in his +eyes. It was the good-hearted Hudson's Bay agent.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," he pleaded, "old Tommy Mitchell's been comin' in every +Saturday for two months, tryin' to get somethin' for his family. I've +been givin' him twenty pounds of flour a week for himself and wife and +six children. That's every shred they've got to live on. He hasn't a +salmon or a codfish to give me, and he was in debt when I came here. +What'll we do?"</p> + +<p>The <i>Strathcona</i> had steam up and was whistling to the Doctor to come +aboard. On the Labrador coast you must leave promptly or the sea may +punish you for the delay.</p> + +<p>"See if you can't stop at the island off Napaktok Point, Doctor. +They're livin' out there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>with nothin' but their own hats to cover +'em—if they've got any."</p> + +<p>"I will," the Doctor promised, and was off.</p> + +<p>When they came near the island, the dory was lowered, and Grenfell and +his mate rowed toward the rocks.</p> + +<p>"Can you see anything that looks like a house, Bill? You have better +eyes than mine."</p> + +<p>"No, Doctor. I been a-lookin'. I sees—nothing."</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect you to do as well as that," said the Doctor. "But +keep on looking. And call out when you see anything."</p> + +<p>They rowed almost round the island, against a stiff head wind.</p> + +<p>Each time they passed cove or headland they thought, "Well now, surely +it must be just around the next point."</p> + +<p>"There's a smoke, sir!" cried the sharp-eyed Bill.</p> + +<p>Sure enough—there was a tiny wisp of smoke, trickling up the face of +the rocks.</p> + +<p>But no hut was to be seen.</p> + +<p>They landed, and pulled the boat out on the beach.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>Then they went toward the smoke. The fire was built among flat stones +out in the open.</p> + +<p>A hollow-cheeked woman sat with a poor, scrawny scrap of a baby on her +arm. In her other hand she held what looked like an old paint can, and +she was stirring some thin sort of gruel in it, in spite of the weight +of the baby on her arm. It was not heavy, poor little creature!</p> + +<p>"Good-morning. Where's your tent?" Grenfell asked, cheerily.</p> + +<p>"There she is."</p> + +<p>The woman pointed with the gruel stick to a mass of canvas and +matting, plastered in patches with mud against the face of the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Why do you cook in the open?"</p> + +<p>"'Cos us hasn't got no stove."</p> + +<p>"Where's Tom?"</p> + +<p>"He's away. He's gone off wid Johnnie, tryin' to shoot a gull. Here, +Bill, run an' fetch yer dad, an' tell him Dr. Grenfell wants 'un."</p> + +<p>A half-naked little boy about nine years old darted off into the scrub +bushes.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with baby?" Dr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>Grenfell inquired kindly, as the +infant clasped his finger and looked up into his mild face.</p> + +<p>"Hungry," was the mother's sufficient answer. "I ain't got nothin' to +give him." Her lip trembled, and she turned her head away.</p> + +<p>The baby kept up a constant whimpering, like a lamb very badly scared.</p> + +<p>"It's half-starved," said the Doctor. "What do you give it?"</p> + +<p>"Flour, and berries," was the response. "I chews the loaf first—or +else it ain't no good for him."</p> + +<p>Then a little girl, of perhaps five, and a boy of—maybe—seven, shyly +came from behind the tent, where they had fled wild-eyed and hid when +the strangers came. They had nothing on: but they were brown as +chestnuts and fat as butter.</p> + +<p>It was snowing, and the snow had driven them toward the poor, mean +fire where mother sat with the baby.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see the other children are fat," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"They bees eatin' berries all the time," was the mother's answer. Then +suddenly the full <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>force of their plight swept all other thoughts out +of her mind.</p> + +<p>"What's t' good of t' government?" she cried. "Here is we all +starvin'. And it's ne'er a crust they gives yer. There bees a sight o' +pork an' butter in t' company's store. But it's ne'er a sight of 'im +us ever gets. What are them doin'? T' agent he says he can't give Tom +no more'n dry flour, an' us can't live on dat."</p> + +<p>Then a bent and weary figure shuffled on the scene. It was Tom, the +poor husband and father. He had an old and rusty, single-barreled +muzzle-loading gun, and he was carrying a dead sea-gull by the tip of +one of its wings. Two small boys trudged along after him, their faces +old before their time. They stood looking at the Doctor in wonderment.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom, you've had luck!" was Grenfell's greeting. He explains +that he meant Tom was very lucky not to have the gun open at the wrong +end and discharge its contents into his face!</p> + +<p>"It's only a kitty," the hunter answered, sadly. "An' I been sittin' +out yonder on the p'int all day." A kitty is a little gull.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>"Your gun isn't heavy enough to kill the big gulls, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"No, Doctor. I hain't much powder—and ne'er a bit o' shot. I has to +load her up most times with a handful o' they round stones. T' hammer +don't always set her off, neither. Her springs bees too old, I +reckon." He fumbled with the trigger in a way that led Grenfell to ask +him to let him hold the gun instead. Tom passed it over, and Grenfell +held it till their talk was over.</p> + +<p>Tom, who was part Eskimo, was a very poor business man. He had been a +slave of the "truck system" by which a man brings his furs or his fish +to a trader, exchanges them for supplies, and is always in debt to the +storekeeper who takes pains to see that it shall be so.</p> + +<p>"Tom," the Doctor told him, "I want to help you. Winter is coming on, +and here you are with a handful of flour and a sea-gull, and no proper +shelter from the cold. You have too many children to keep. I think +you'd better pass over to me for a while your two little boys, 'Billy' +and 'Jimmy,' and the little girl. I'll feed them and clothe them and +have them taught <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>till they are big enough to come back and help you. +All the time they are with me I'll do all I can to help you along. If +you have them here—they'll certainly starve. The snow is beginning to +cover up the berries already. And that's about all you've got to feed +them."</p> + +<p>Poor Tom couldn't think.</p> + +<p>He merely stood there, looking first at the sea, then at the sky, then +at the Doctor, his mouth wide open.</p> + +<p>His wife broke the silence. "D'ye hear, man? T' Doctor wants to take +t' children. I says 'tis the gover'ment should feed 'em here. I +wouldn't let no children o' mine go, I wouldn't." Saying which, she +held her sickly infant tighter.</p> + +<p>The talk to and fro went on for a long time. It didn't get much of +anywhere. On the part of the fond parents it consisted largely of what +the government ought to do. Grenfell patiently explained that the +government was a long way off, and couldn't answer before Christmas if +it answered at all.</p> + +<p>All this time Father Tom stood there, dumb as a stalled ox, trying to +see daylight by which to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>make up his mind. Evidently his wife was the +real man of the family.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't youse say something?" she broke out at last. "Bees you +a-goin' to let t' Doctor have youse childer?"</p> + +<p>Tom looked more distracted than ever, and it didn't help much when he +took off his hat and let cold air blow on his heated brain as he +rummaged with his finger in the dense thatch on his head.</p> + +<p>Then Tom said: "I suppose he knows."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Dr. Grenfell said. "I think you'd better let me have Billy and +Jimmy for a while."</p> + +<p>There was more talk, and finally the wife gave way. "Well, youse can +take Billy, I suppose, if you wants un."</p> + +<p>All this time the mate had said nothing. Big and burly as he was, +there were tears in his eyes; he had a kind heart, for there were many +little ones to feed and clothe in his own household. He thought it was +time to settle the dispute.</p> + +<p>For he heard the <i>Strathcona's</i> whistle blowing impatiently, warning +the men ashore that the sea was rising and the rocks in the uncertain +weather meant danger. The little steamer, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>while the palaver went on, +had been following alongshore as they went round the island. The snow +was getting thicker, and the wind was tipping the waves with +whitecaps. They must be off without further parley.</p> + +<p>So the mate, not wasting words, suddenly grabbed Billy under one long, +strong arm.</p> + +<p>Billy kicked and howled and struggled. Billy had no idea of that +delightful home for the children at St. Anthony. He would have cried +to go there, if he had known what playmates he would have, what +diverting games to play.</p> + +<p>Billy was captured "for good and all." But Dr. Grenfell knew that it +wouldn't do for Billy to be toted off alone.</p> + +<p>He was bound he'd get another child,—for he knew he was right, not +merely because of the good he could do the children, but because of +the hopeless situation of the whole family if they all remained on +this miserable shelf of rock in the open Atlantic.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Mitchell," he coaxed, "you're going to let Jimmy come too, +to keep Billy company."</p> + +<p>She shook her head in defiance. Her mind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>was made up. Billy could +go—but he was the only one. That was flat and final.</p> + +<p>Then Tom broke his silence once more: "I says he knows what's for t' +best."</p> + +<p>The <i>Strathcona's</i> whistle was petulantly crying: "Come on! We really +must be starting! If you don't come aboard right away, we may be +wrecked. Really, you must think of your crew. It isn't fair to let us +run this risk, with the barometer falling, and the wind like this."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell made every tempting promise he could think of.</p> + +<p>"If you'll let me have Jimmy, I'll give your husband a fine gun."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Mitchell. "Ye can't have un."</p> + +<p>"I'll send him plenty of powder and shot."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I'll give him a letter to the agent so he can get work."</p> + +<p>She made an impatient gesture of rejection with her free hand.</p> + +<p>The Doctor played a trump card. "You shall have nice dresses for +yourself and clothes for all the children."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>Mrs. Mitchell yielded. "Well then, ye can have Jimmy. But that's all. +That's the very last one."</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Mitchell, be reasonable. Let me have the baby girl, too."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Look at your tent. We'll put the little girl in a fine house with a +roof on it, and a door that opens and shuts."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"We'll give her pretty clothes, and teach her from the picture books. +She'll come back so you won't know her."</p> + +<p>"But I want to know her."</p> + +<p>"We'll feed her well, and fill her up till she's as fat as a seal."</p> + +<p>"No. That's all. Jimmy and Billy can go. She shall stay here with me."</p> + +<p>This time the father kept his face tight closed. There was no help at +all from him. He looked the other way, stiff as a seal-gaff.</p> + +<p>The mate was already on his way to the beach, with the two naked +little boys wriggling under his arms. They were red and blue all over +with the stains of the berries—a beautiful sight.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>"All right, Mrs. Mitchell. We must go on board now. Come with us, and +we'll give you the things."</p> + +<p>Then there was joy for that poor, hungry family.</p> + +<p>They were all clad in stout clothing that would keep out the wind. A +gun was lent to the father, and his shattered fowling-piece was fixed +up by the clever engineer, till it was "most as good as new." The +eldest boy, John, would be big enough to use it.</p> + +<p>The powder and shot were dug out of the lockers: tins of condensed +milk were found for the poor little shrimp of a baby. The second +axe—a gorgeous prize—went into the growing pile of gifts: soap, +needles and thread, shoes and stockings, potatoes, some flour, a +package of tea, sugar, and other precious things went into two oilskin +bags, and then over the rail into the Mitchells' leaky, tossing boat.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile an astonishing change was taking place in the two boys. They +were getting a bath on the deck, in the wind and snow, with a bucket +and a scrubbing-brush, and after they were dressed they had their hair +cut. Their mother <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>stared and stared as the boat rowed away. She could +hardly believe they were hers.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Doctor. Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Mrs. Mitchell. We'll take good care of them."</p> + +<p>Father said nothing. He was rowing the boat. But no doubt he was +thinking very grateful thoughts.</p> + +<p>The boys wept a little, silently as they looked their last on their +patched and tattered home. The family they left behind them would make +a journey of a hundred miles in that rotten boat to a winter hut on +the mainland.</p> + +<p>But they looked at each other, washed and dressed, with all that wild +hair pruned away—and then they began to laugh at each other as the +biggest joke in their short lives.</p> + +<p>After they reached St. Anthony and were installed in the Orphanage, +they were two of the happiest and most popular lads in the place.</p> + +<p>They purred like pleased kittens and lost no chance to show how much +they liked the people who were doing so much for them. They studied +hard, and put the same driving spirit into play. It could be seen that +the little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>"heathen" of the island were in a fair way to become in +time the leaders of men who are needed in all walks of life. Dr. +Grenfell felt well rewarded for all the trouble he had taken for Jimmy +and Billy and all their family.</p> + +<p>The "liveyeres," as those who "live here" are called, may lead rough, +hard lives. But for that very reason they welcome books, and music, +and all such things.</p> + +<p>One day as the <i>Strathcona</i> was scudding southward, her sails swelling +with a stiff breeze, and the Doctor in a great hurry to reach a +distant coast-line and get to work on some patients who had been +waiting a long time for him, a little boat came and planted herself +directly in the <i>Strathcona's</i> path.</p> + +<p>The <i>Strathcona</i> was a small craft herself, but she seemed a monster +compared with this impudent sailboat. The smaller boat had a +funny-looking flag, hoisted as a signal to stop. It was almost as if a +harbor tug should attempt to hold up the <i>Leviathan</i>.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell thought it must be some very serious surgical case.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>He gave the order at once: "Down sail and heave her to."</p> + +<p>Then an old, white-haired man, the only passenger in the small boat, +climbed stiffly over the rail, fairly creaking in his joints.</p> + +<p>"Good-day," said Grenfell. "What can we do for you? We're in a hurry."</p> + +<p>The old man took off his cap, and held it in his hand as he looked +down at the deck. Then he mustered up courage to make his request.</p> + +<p>"Please, Doctor," he said slowly, "I wanted to ask you if you had any +books you could lend me. We haven't anything to read here."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell confesses with shame that his first impulse was to return +a sharp, vexed answer, and to ask, "What do you mean by holding up my +mission boat for such a reason?" But then he realized his mistake. In +a way, it would be as good a deed to put a prop under the old man's +spirit with a good book as to take off his leg with a knife.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got any books?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Doctor. I've got two, but I've read 'em through, over and over +again, long ago."</p> + +<p>"What were they?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>"One is the Works of Josephus, sir, and the other is Plutarch's +Lives."</p> + +<p>The old fellow was overjoyed when the Doctor put aboard his bobbing +skiff a box of fifty books—a mixture of everything from Henty's +stories to sermons.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell never could tell what a day—or a night—would bring +forth. If variety is the spice of life, his life in the north has been +one long diet of paprika.</p> + +<p>Once late in the fall he was creeping along the Straits of Belle Isle +in a motor-boat—the only one in those waters at that time.</p> + +<p>It broke down, as the best of motor-boats sometimes will, and the +tidal current, with that brutal habit which tidal currents have, began +to pull the boat on the rocks as with an unseen hand.</p> + +<p>They tied all the lines they had together, attached the anchor, and +put it overboard.</p> + +<p>The water was so deep they could not reach the bottom.</p> + +<p>Darkness was shutting down—and it was an awful place to pass the +night.</p> + +<p>Then a schooner's lights flashed out. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>"Hurrah!" cried Grenfell's men. +"We're all right now!"</p> + +<p>They lashed the hurricane light on their boat-hook and waved it to and +fro like mad. They <span class="fakesc">MUST</span> make those fellows on the schooner +take notice and stop for them. The sea would probably get them if they +failed.</p> + +<p>The water was so rough, the night so dark, that even their precious +motor-boat was nothing, if only they could clamber aboard that +schooner. At almost any time, those Straits offer stretches of the +most perilous sailing-water in the world. Sailors who have rounded +Cape Horn would say yes to that.</p> + +<p>But just then—to their horror, the schooner which had been close to +them put about and hurried off like a startled caribou. Soon the +powerless motor-boat was left far, far behind, wallowing in the trough +of waves much too big for her size.</p> + +<p>They shouted with all their might, but the whistling wind threw away +their outcry instead of carrying it across the tossing waves, which +threatened to swamp the boat at any instant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>They shot off their guns.</p> + +<p>They yelled again.</p> + +<p>They lit flares such as are used in the navy for signal lights.</p> + +<p>But it was all in vain.</p> + +<p>They almost began to believe they had dreamed of rescue—that a +phantom ship had come to them in a nightmare.</p> + +<p>They waved their hurricane light again and again, as high as they +could hold it.</p> + +<p>The engineer, a willing amateur, all this while had been toiling away +till his hands bled, at his motor, drenched with the spray. He had +torn the machinery limb from limb, and patiently refitted the parts. +Suddenly one cylinder gave a weak kick, and then came a spasmodic +succession of sputters, with long waits between. But with the aid of +the oars the boat was now able to make slow and tedious progress in +the schooner's wake.</p> + +<p>At last—at last—along toward midnight they crept into the harbor +where the schooner had also taken refuge.</p> + +<p>Tired as they were, they wouldn't turn in at a fisherman's cottage +without boarding the ship to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>rebuke the sailors for their unhandsome +behavior.</p> + +<p>How could they leave men in a tiny boat in distress, perhaps to be +swamped and to drown in those cruel waters out yonder in the blind +dark?</p> + +<p>The skipper made solemn reply. "Them cliffs is haunted," he announced. +"More'n one light's been seen there than ever any man lit. When us saw +youse light flashing round right in on the cliffs, us knowed it was no +place for Christian men that time o' night. Us guessed it was just +fairies or devils tryin' to toll us in."</p> + +<p>Many of the little boats on the Labrador are not fit to spend a night +at sea, and often it is an anxious business to get into a safe harbor +before sundown. Dr. Grenfell has a reputation as a daredevil skipper, +because so often, on an errand of mercy, he has steamed right out in +the teeth of the storm when hardened, ancient mariners shook their +heads and hugged the land. But the Doctor does not take chances for +the sake of the risk itself—his daring always has behind it the good +reason that he wants to go somewhere in a great hurry in time of +need.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>A hundred miles north of Indian Tickle, where there was no light, +Grenfell was caught one night when he was coming south with the +fishing fleet.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden the fog fell on the whole group of ships like a thick +wet blanket, before they could make the harbor. There were many reefs +between their position and the open sea: the only thing to do was to +anchor then and there. When a rift came in the fog, Dr. Grenfell saw +the riding-lights of eleven vessels round about him. A northeaster +grew in violence as night came swiftly on, and a heavy sea arose. The +ships tugged at their anchors. The great waves swept the decks from +end to end.</p> + +<p>In the hold of the <i>Strathcona</i> were patients lying in the cots, on +their way to Battle Harbor Hospital. As the Doctor would say, there +was less than an inch of iron between them and eternity.</p> + +<p>They were dressed, and the boats were prepared to take them ashore.</p> + +<p>One after another in the mad waters the neighbor lights went out. All +night the <i>Strathcona</i> fought the sea. When day came, only one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>of the +other boats was left—a ship much bigger than the <i>Strathcona</i>, named +the <i>Yosemite</i>.</p> + +<p>The <i>Yosemite</i> was drifting down upon the smaller vessel, and it +seemed as if in a moment more there must be a collision.</p> + +<p>But just then the <i>Yosemite</i> struck a reef. She turned over on her +side. In that position the sea drove the vessel ashore, through the +breakers, with the crew clinging to the bridge.</p> + +<p>The fact that the <i>Strathcona</i> kept steam up and was "steaming to her +anchors" all night long had saved her, the only survivor of the entire +fleet. Every vessel that went ashore was smashed to kindling.</p> + +<p>As they were about to weigh anchor, the main steam pipe began to leak. +It was necessary to "blow down" the boilers.</p> + +<p>For the whole of that short day the engineers tinkered at the damage, +knowing that the lives of all on board might depend on their success +ere nightfall.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, to the inexpressible relief of everyone, the engineer +shouted:</p> + +<p>"Right for'ard!"</p> + +<p>Then came the sweet music of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>engine-room bell, and presently they +were under way again, so nightfall found them safe at last in the +harbor, with those eleven wrecks pounding on the rocks outside.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the fishermen expected miracles of healing. One day a big +"husk" of a fisherman clambered aboard, saying that his teeth hurt +him.</p> + +<p>"Sit down on that wood-pile," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>The man obeyed. The Doctor pried his mouth open, and saw the tooth +that was making the trouble. Then he fetched the forceps.</p> + +<p>Up started the patient in wide-eyed alarm.</p> + +<p>"Bees you a-goin' to haul it, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm going to pull it out. What did you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have you touch it! Not for all the fish in the sea!"</p> + +<p>"Well then, why did you come to me? You're just wasting my time."</p> + +<p>"I wanted you to charm her, Doctor."</p> + +<p>"But my dear fellow, I'm not an Eskimo medicine-man. I don't know how, +and I don't believe in it anyway."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>Mr. Fisherman looked very much put out. "I knows why youse won't charm +un. It's because I'm a Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. That wouldn't make the slightest difference. But if you +really think it would do any good,—come on, I'll try. Only—you'll +have to pay twenty-five cents, just as though I had 'hauled' it."</p> + +<p>"That I will, Doctor, and glad to do it. Go ahead!"</p> + +<p>He perched on the rail like a great sea-bird. The Doctor to carry out +the farce put his finger in the gaping mouth and touched the tooth. +While he kept his finger in place he uttered the solemn words:</p> + +<p>"Abracadabra Tiddlywinkum Umslopoga."</p> + +<p>That last word must have come from a hazy memory of the name of the +wonderful big black man in H. Rider Haggard's "Alan Quatermain," who +after a long, hard run beside a horse that carries his master, defends +a stairway against their enemies and splits a magic stone with an axe +and so brings the foe to grief.</p> + +<p>At any rate, the combination worked. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>Grenfell pulled out his finger +quickly so that his patient wouldn't bite him.</p> + +<p>The fisherman got up in silence. Then he slowly made the circuit of +the deck. In the course of the brief journey, he thrust his hand deep +into his jeans and pulled out a quarter.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Doctor. Many thanks." He solemnly handed the coin to his +benefactor. "All the pain has gone."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell stood holding the coin in his hand, wondering how he came +to make such a fool of himself, while the fisherman's broad back bent +to the oars of the little boat that took him ashore.</p> + +<p>A month later, in the same harbor, the same man swung his leg over the +rail with a hearty greeting.</p> + +<p>"Had any more trouble?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"No—sir! Not an ache out of her since!" came the jovial answer.</p> + +<p>The Doctor had much trouble with patients who wanted to drink at one +draught all the medicine he gave them. They thought that if a +teaspoonful of the remedy was good for you, the whole bottle must be +ever so much better.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>A haddock's fin-bone was a "liveyere's" charm against rheumatism—but +you must get hold of the haddock and cut off the fin before he touches +the boat. So you don't often get a fin that is good for anything.</p> + +<p>If you want to avoid a hemorrhage, the best plan is to tie a bit of +green worsted round your wrist.</p> + +<p>Both Protestants and Catholics write prayers on pieces of paper and +wear them in little bags about their necks to drive off evil things.</p> + +<p>The constant battle against wind and wave develops heroes and +heroines, and the tales told of golden deeds such as might earn a +Carnegie medal or pension are beyond number.</p> + +<p>One man started south for the winter in his fishing-boat, with his +fishing partner, his wife, four children and a servant girl. A gale of +wind came up. On the Labrador a gale is a gale: they do not use the +word lightly. Grenfell tells of a new church that was blown into the +sea with its pulpit, pews and communion-table. In a storm like that, +the mainsail, jib and mast of this luckless smack went over the side. +The boat was driven helplessly before the wind, for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>three days and +nights. Then the wind changed, and they could put up a small foresail, +which in two more awful days brought them to the land. But they were +running ashore with such violence that they would have been lost +beyond a doubt, if six brave "liveyeres" had not put out to rescue +them. Their boat was smashed to flinders.</p> + +<p>Then they found that all this time they had been going due north, for +a hundred and fifty miles. They had to stay till the next summer. +Their friends, when they got back to Newfoundland, had given them up +for dead.</p> + +<p>A fisherman said to Grenfell, in explaining why he couldn't swim: "You +see, we has enough o' the water without goin' to bother wi' it when we +are ashore." This man had barely escaped drowning on no less than four +occasions. Once he saved himself by clinging to a rope with his teeth, +after his hands were too numb to serve him, till they hauled him +aboard.</p> + +<p>The shore of one of the Labrador bays had a total adult population of +just one man. As the ice was breaking up in the spring, he had sent +his two young sons out on the ice-pans in pursuit of seals.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>But the treacherous flooring gave way, and the father from the shore +saw his boys struggling in the water.</p> + +<p>He tied a long fishing-line round his body, and gave the other end to +his daughter. While she held it he crawled out over the pans. Then he +jumped into the bitter water, like a deep-sea diver going down to +examine a wreck, and stayed between and below the pans till he had +recovered both bodies—but the last spark of life was extinct.</p> + +<p>Almost under the windows of Dr. Grenfell's hospital at Battle Harbor +two men started with sled and dogs to get fire-wood. They were +rounding a headland, when the sled went into the water, taking not +merely the dogs but the drivers with it. One man got under the ice, +and was seen no more. The other clung to the edge of the ice, too weak +to crawl out.</p> + +<p>His sister saw what happened, and came running over the ice. Men +further away who were bringing a boat shouted to her: "For God's sake, +don't go near the hole." She did not heed their warning. Instead, she +threw herself flat, so as to distribute her weight, and dragged +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>herself along till she was close enough to reach her brother's hand.</p> + +<p>She could not quite pull him out. He was so benumbed that he could not +help in the rescue. She lifted his body part way over the edge of the +ice-sheet and held on.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer the boat came with the rescuers shouting +encouragement. "We're a-comin', girl.' Don't let go!" Her strength was +almost gone. But she was bound to be faithful unto death—if the sea +claimed her brother it must take her too.</p> + +<p>She did not cry out. She wasted no energy in words upon the frosty +air. The boat seemed ages in coming, though the rowers plied the oars +with might and main.</p> + +<p>One of her legs had broken through the ice. At any instant she might +find herself struggling in the sea, and her agony of effort would have +been in vain.</p> + +<p>At what seemed the last second of the last moment for the pair, the +brawny arms of the fishermen hauled them over the gunwale.</p> + +<p>She told the story simply, and as though it were all in the day's +work.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>"What made you go on?" Grenfell asked her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't see him drown, could I?" was all her reply.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XII" id="XII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>WHEN THE BIG FISH "STRIKE IN"</h4> +<br /> + +<p>"Doctor, how do you catch the codfish? Do you use a hook and line, the +same as father and I do when we go fishing in Long Island Sound?"</p> + +<p>The speaker was a New York boy who hadn't been north of Boston, until +one summer his father let him go to St. John's for the sea-trip. There +by great good luck he ran into the Doctor, who had come from St. +Anthony in his little steamer the <i>Strathcona</i>.</p> + +<p>"You can catch codfish with a hook and line," explained the Doctor, +"but it would take too long for the fishermen who have to get their +living from the sea.</p> + +<p>"Most of the time they use a great big net, called a 'cod-trap.'</p> + +<p>"It's like a room of network without a roof. It has a door, and the +cod are steered in at the door by another net which reaches from the +cod-trap to the rocks."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>"I should think the whole business would float away out to sea the +minute it got the least bit rough," said Harry.</p> + +<p>"It might," the Doctor admitted. "But you see they have heavy anchors, +or they tie big stones to the net at the bottom to hold it down."</p> + +<p>"I'd love to see those cod coming in!" exclaimed Harry. "They must +push and shove like anything. But what do they want to go in for? I +s'pose o' course they must use some kind of bait."</p> + +<p>"They use the squid, or octopus," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Are those the funny things that wave their arms around and throw out +ink when they get mad?" asked Harry.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Are they very big?"</p> + +<p>"They come in all sizes. There's even such a thing as a giant squid. +For a long time people laughed at the idea that there was any such +monster. They thought he was a myth, like the sea-serpent.</p> + +<p>"But one day two fishermen were plying their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>trade when two great +arms rose out of the sea and clasped their boat and tried to drag it +under.</p> + +<p>"Luckily, they had a big knife, and they hacked away at the arms till +they cut them off.</p> + +<p>"The cuttlefish—that's another name for it—made the sea about them +as black as tar. But it did not try again.</p> + +<p>"They took the arms ashore, and sold them to a man named Dr. Harvey. +Everybody had been making fun of Dr. Harvey because he said there was +such a thing as the giant squid.</p> + +<p>"The Doctor hated strong drink, and so the clerks at the store of Job +Brothers here in St. John's were very much surprised when Dr. Harvey +rushed in and shouted: 'I want a barrel of rum!'</p> + +<p>"Then he told them what he wanted it for—he wanted to send the giant +squid to the Royal Society in London. The parts of the arms cut off +were nineteen feet long.</p> + +<p>"Later on, somebody who heard about it brought him an octopus that was +lying dead on the water, whose reach was forty feet from tip to tip."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>"How do they catch the octopus for bait?" asked Harry.</p> + +<p>"It's exciting work. You see, besides having arms like a windmill, +with curious sucking saucers on them, the octopus has a beak like a +parrot, with awful teeth, and it can bite like anything.</p> + +<p>"You'll see a cluster of rowboats anchored close together, and the +fishermen are jigging up and down a little bright red leaden weight, +bristling with spikes.</p> + +<p>"Suddenly there's a stir. The squids have come rushing in, and they +bite at those jiggers like a terrier after a rat.</p> + +<p>"When the squids get those spiked weights in their mouths and are +being hauled aboard—look out!</p> + +<p>"All of a sudden—just the way people squirt things in the +movies—they shoot out jets of ink at the fishermen.</p> + +<p>"It stings like anything if it gets into your eyes and it ruins your +clothes."</p> + +<p>"How much do the squid cost when you buy them for bait?" asked Harry, +who had a practical mind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>"Fifteen or twenty cents a hundred for the little ones."</p> + +<p>"That isn't much for all that work," said Harry.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell smiled. "You'll find that the fishermen do lots of hard +work for very little pay, Harry," he answered.</p> + +<p>"What other kind of bait do they use for the cod?"</p> + +<p>"Caplin—a small fish like a sardine—and herring. Sand eels and +white-fish sometimes. Bits of sea-gulls, and even rubber fish with +hooks. Mussels don't hold well on the hooks."</p> + +<p>Harry looked thoughtful. "I suppose it makes a lot o' difference, +having just the right kind o' bait."</p> + +<p>"All the difference in the world," the Doctor agreed. "If a man can't +please the fish, he might as well burn his nets and boats and leave +the sea.—But I was telling you about the cod-traps.</p> + +<p>"While the fish are following their leader, like so many sheep, in at +the door of the trap, along comes the man they call the trap-master. +He has a tube with plain glass in the bottom, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>and he puts it down +over the side of the boat and looks through it to see if the trap is +full.</p> + +<p>"When he thinks it's full enough, the door is pulled up so the fish +can't get out, and the floor of the trap is hauled to the surface.</p> + +<p>"As it is lifted, a big dipper is put in, and the fish are ladled into +the boat.</p> + +<p>"When the boat is full, the rest of the fish are put into big net +bags. These are tied to buoys, so the fishermen may come back later +and get them."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the fishermen like to pick out the best places," said +Harry.</p> + +<p>"Yes—there's a mad race on the day the season opens. You've got to +get your cod-trap anchored in four days, with the net that leads from +the shore put in place: and it's a big job to do it in that time.</p> + +<p>"Then there's what they call the cod-seine. That's worked by seven +men. The seine-master, fish-glass in hand, stands in the bow: and the +minute he sights the school of fish he gives orders for the nets to be +dropped.</p> + +<p>"The men row in a circle and return to a buoy, paying out the net as +they go.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>"The bottom rope is weighted, and they gather it round a central +anchor into a bag as they row. It's not so easy as it sounds, but +'practice makes perfect.' When they've got the fish bagged in this way +they may scoop them up whenever they like.</p> + +<p>"Other kinds of nets, as well as lines, are used.</p> + +<p>"While those who use the lines generally take great pains to put on +them the bait they think Mr. and Mrs. Cod will like, some fishermen +make the others very angry by 'jigging' with unbaited hooks.</p> + +<p>"This means that two hooks, joined back to back with a bit of lead +that sinks them, are dropped where the fish are most thickly crowded.</p> + +<p>"Then the line is jerked up and down. Half a dozen fish may be hurt +for one that is hooked."</p> + +<p>"What becomes of the one that gets hurt?" asked Harry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the rest of the cod rush at the poor fellow and eat him up!"</p> + +<p>"They're not good sports!" was the boy's comment. "Neither are the +fishermen that hurt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>the fish without catching them. That's like +hunters that shoot more animals than they can use for food. But I +suppose fishing just for fun is a very different thing from fishing to +make a living."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell's blue eyes were very serious. "It is," he said. "You +have to go out with the fishermen to understand the difference."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>BIRDS OF MANY A FEATHER</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Harry had seen and heard many kinds of birds alongshore, of all sizes +and colors, some flying in curious ways and some making very queer +sounds, so he asked the Doctor to tell him about them.</p> + +<p>"The Labrador coast is one of the finest bird-nurseries anywhere," +said the Doctor. "You can find about two hundred different kinds—if +your eyes are sharp enough and your patience—and your shoes—hold +out!</p> + +<p>"Of course they don't all live there the year round. Some of them are +just summer boarders.</p> + +<p>"Maybe in a very lonely spot you'll hear a bird all by himself, with a +very sweet song—the hermit thrush.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there will be a chorus of pipits, fox and white-throated +sparrows, robins, warblers and buntings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>"You might even come upon a Nashville warbler or a Maryland +yellow-throat!</p> + +<p>"If eggs are collected in Labrador, the contents aren't wasted.</p> + +<p>"You bore a hole in the side of the egg, put in a blowpipe with a +rubber bulb, and force the contents into a frying-pan. You can make +fine omelet from the eggs of eiders, gulls, puffins and cormorants. Or +you can mix flour with the eggs, add salt and butter, and make a nice +pancake browned on both sides.</p> + +<p>"It tastes rather fishy, of course, but it's very filling, and when +you come in after a long, hard run behind the dogs, or soaked to the +skin from a boat-ride, it certainly is fine to fill up on cormorant +omelet while you pleasantly roast yourself before the leaping flames +of a driftwood bonfire.</p> + +<p>"A Labrador baby thinks that a gull's egg is as good as a stick of +candy.</p> + +<p>"Puffins are lots of fun. You've read about the penguins in the +Antarctic, where they have almost no other animals—how the penguins +dive and swim and carry stones about, looking like solemn old +gentlemen at a club in their dress <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>suits. Well, the puffins are to +Labrador what penguins are to the South Pole country.</p> + +<p>"Their burrows are two or three feet long, and the mother sits on a +single dirty white egg in a straw nest. The birds have red, +parrot-like bills, and they have pale grey faces with markings that +make them look as if they were wearing spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Their bodies are chunky, and they shuffle about very clumsily. They +don't like it a bit when people come where they have their nests.</p> + +<p>"But the razor-billed auk doesn't make any nest—it just lays its egg +on the bare rock in the biting cold. There are very few auks left +to-day, but there were lots of them when Audubon the naturalist +visited Labrador ninety years ago. Audubon tells how a band of +'eggers' started out just like pirates.</p> + +<p>"All they cared about was to plunder every nest.</p> + +<p>"They went sneaking along from cove to cove, turning in sometimes at +the little caves or finding shelter in an angle of the rocks when the +sea ran too high.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>"While they were waiting they would fight and swear and drink. It's a +wonder that the eggers didn't get drowned oftener, for their boats +would be mended with strips of sealskin and the sails were patched +like an old suit, and it looked as if a puff of wind would blow them +over.</p> + +<p>"These eggers got out of their sailing ship into a rowboat they towed, +so as to go to an island of sea-pigeons, or guillemots—because they +couldn't get near enough in the larger vessel.</p> + +<p>"As they came to the rocks, the birds rose up in a screaming white +cloud. The air was full of them, just as you've seen the gulls +creaking and crying about the hull of an ocean steamer, hoping to pick +up food thrown overboard.</p> + +<p>"But the mother birds stuck faithfully to the nests. It was the +fathers and brothers that rose up in the air and made the noisy fuss.</p> + +<p>"All of a sudden—bang! the eggers discharged their guns in a volley +right into the middle of the wheeling, screaming cloud of feathers +overhead.</p> + +<p>"Some fell into the water, and the rest in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>terror flew about not +knowing where to go or what to do.</p> + +<p>"The eggers picked up the birds that lay in rumpled, bloody heaps on +the water. They made toothsome pies, and what they couldn't eat they +left behind. They didn't care how many birds they killed, because +there were plenty left.</p> + +<p>"They weren't shooting just for food—they were shooting mostly for +fun. As they trampled about the island they crushed with their heavy +boots more eggs than they picked up.</p> + +<p>"No one would have blamed hungry men for killing enough birds and +taking enough eggs to supply their families. But the eggers saw red, +and just went on shooting and trampling without excuse.</p> + +<p>"Years of that kind of thing turned many an island into a graveyard.</p> + +<p>"Well, when they had gathered some eggs and smashed the rest, they +picked up the dead birds they wanted and carried them back to the +boat.</p> + +<p>"They jerked off the feathers and broiled the sea-pigeons. Then they +brought out big, black <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>bottles of rum to take away the oily, fishy +flavor, and filled themselves with strong drink and bird-flesh.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep242" id="imagep242"></a> +<a href="images/imagep242.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep242.jpg" width="85%" alt="Off Duty" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Off Duty<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>"They fell asleep, snoring drunk, and dawn found them piled about the +deck helplessly.</p> + +<p>"But when they got back to the island from which they started on their +journey, they found that rivals had landed there, and were killing +birds which they looked on as their own.</p> + +<p>"There was a fight at once.</p> + +<p>"The men who were coming back home fired a volley and then took their +guns as if they were clubs and rushed toward their enemies.</p> + +<p>"Then, man to man, they fought like wild beasts. One man was carried +to the boat with his skull fractured: another limped off with a bullet +in his leg: a third was feeling his jaw to learn how many of his teeth +had been driven through a hole in his cheek.</p> + +<p>"So they fought till they tired of it, and then they pulled out the +rum-bottles, and drank themselves into forgetfulness of their fierce +battle.</p> + +<p>"With the next morning came a hundred honest fishermen who wanted +nothing more from the islands than the birds and the eggs they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>actually needed for their hungry wives and little ones at home.</p> + +<p>"They had been eating salt meat for months: scurvy had broken out, and +they wanted a change of diet.</p> + +<p>"But the pirate eggers were bound they shouldn't have it. The +fishermen brought no guns: they weren't looking for trouble: they were +taken by surprise when the eggers rushed down on them like tigers +roused from their lairs.</p> + +<p>"One of the eggers, who had not slept off the effects of the carousal +of the night before, shot one of the fishermen. Then the fishermen, +who outnumbered the eggers about ten to one, gave the latter the +beating of their lives. Fortunately, the fisherman who had been shot +was not killed.</p> + +<p>"That was the sort of thing that happened again and again in the bad +old days.</p> + +<p>"No wonder Audubon, as a great lover of birds, was very angry at these +men who were making it impossible for birds to make their homes and +lay their eggs and raise their families on the Labrador. They could +have had all they wanted to eat without exterminating the birds, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>and +never giving a thought to anybody who might come after them.</p> + +<p>"The fishermen still, in many places, out of sight and reach of any +law, take all the eggs and kill all the birds they can.</p> + +<p>"But it's not so bad as it was in Audubon's time, when men from +Halifax took about 40,000 eggs which they sold for twenty-five cents a +dozen. Near Cape Whittle he found two men gathering murre's eggs. They +were proud of the fact that they had collected 800 dozen and they +didn't intend to stop till they had taken 2,000 dozen. The broken eggs +made such a dreadful smell that it almost made him sick.</p> + +<p>"The ivory gull, known as the 'ice partridge,' is sometimes caught by +pouring seal's blood on the ice. The birds swoop down to get it, and +are shot. Some actually kill themselves by striking the ice too hard +when they land, for they are so eager to get the blood.</p> + +<p>"Labrador is a good place to study the diving birds, which are of two +kinds.</p> + +<p>"There are those that use their feet alone under the water—and then +there are those that use only their wings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>"The feet-users clap their wings close to their sides when they dive.</p> + +<p>"The wing-users spread out their pinions before they strike the water. +The puffin uses its wings under the water, and so do the other members +of the auk family.</p> + +<p>"In the duck family, there are both wing-swimmers and foot-swimmers. +The ducks of the sorts known as old squaws, scoters and eiders fly +under water. But the redheads and canvas-back ducks use only their +feet under water. Mergansers dive with their wings against their +sides, like a folded umbrella. The cormorants are famous swimmers, and +use their feet alone. You know how the Chinese use cormorants as +fish-catchers, putting rings about their necks to keep them from +swallowing their prey.</p> + +<p>"Among the birds classed as game-birds, the willow grouse are so easy +to kill that a true sportsman doesn't take much pleasure in going +after them.</p> + +<p>"They are often caught with nooses on the end of a stick, while they +roost in the trees, and a group in this position may be killed all at +once, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>if shot from the bottom, so that the falling bird doesn't +disturb the others.</p> + +<p>"Cartwright, an early explorer, tells how he came upon a covey of six +grouse and knocked off all their heads with his rifle.</p> + +<p>"In winter, the willow grouse bury themselves in the snow, and the +'cock of the roost' is sentinel, keeping his head above the snow to +watch for an enemy.</p> + +<p>"The Canada goose, breeding about the lakes and ponds, is a +grass-eater, and so tastes better than the fishy, oily gulls and +divers. You can tame the goose and use it as a decoy. When a number +are shot at a time, those that can't be used right away are hung +outside the house. There they freeze, and are kept fresh all winter +long.</p> + +<p>"There couldn't be a better retriever for a duck-hunt than the Eskimo +dog. I've watched them dash into the waves after a bird, only to be +thrown back, bruised and winded, high up on the ledges of the rock.</p> + +<p>"Then the return wave would drag them off, and pound them against the +rocks. But the dogs would hang on for dear life, till their nails +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>were torn away and their paws were bleeding.</p> + +<p>"Even that wouldn't make them quit. They would return to the charge, +and waiting for their chance they would jump right over the breaking +crest and get clear of the surf.</p> + +<p>"When they've once got hold of a duck, nothing will make them let go. +I've often been tempted to jump in and give the brave fellows a hand, +when it seemed as if they couldn't keep up the struggle any longer.</p> + +<p>"They'd sink out of sight in a bigger wave than usual—and then, sure +enough, you'd see the duck again, and the dog's head after it, still +true to duty even in the jaws of death. For sometimes, in spite of all +his pluck and cleverness, the dog is drowned."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XIV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>BEASTS BIG AND LITTLE</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Both on sea and land, Labrador animals have to be as tough as Labrador +people to stand the hard life they must lead.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell tells of a seal family he saw killed on an ice-pan about +half the size of a tennis-court.</p> + +<p>They were surprised by four sealers, with wooden bats. Before they +gave up their lives they put up a tremendous struggle. The father seal +actually caught a club in his mouth and swung it from side to side +with such violence that the sealers had to get off the pan.</p> + +<p>But at last he was dealt such a blow on the head that it was supposed +he was killed.</p> + +<p>Instead of stripping off the pelt as the fallen monster lay on the +pan, the sealers hoisted him aboard the steamer "unscalped." As he was +being lifted over the rail—two thousand pounds of him—the strap +broke, and back into the sea the huge carcass splashed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>The cold water revived him.</p> + +<p>He swam back to the pan, which was marked by the blood stains of his +slaughtered family—the mate with her young which he had fought so +desperately to protect.</p> + +<p>The pan stood about six feet out of the water. Yet the great animal +managed to fling himself upon it.</p> + +<p>The men, who had bread and tea to win for their families, could not +afford to let him go.</p> + +<p>They went back after him, and this time they did not trust to their +wooden bats. They used a few of their precious cartridges and shot +him. And then they "scalped" him on the spot, and hauled the skin over +the rail.</p> + +<p>It is painful to think of such a fate for the brave old warrior.</p> + +<p>Just as the cod-traps are put out from the shore, frame nets are set +for the seals along the beach where they are fairly sure to pass at +certain times of the year. There is a capstan from which the doorway +of the seal-trap may be closed with a few turns. The Doctor tells of +one "liveyere" family that took nine hundred seals in this way: and +three to four hundred is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>nothing unusual. One trapper named Jones was +so successful at this business of trapping seals with the net that he +became "purse-proud." From his land where there are no roads, he sent +to Quebec for a carriage and horses, and then he had a road built on +which he might parade them up and down to show his neighbors how rich +he was. Then, for his dances o' winter nights, no local fiddler would +serve, scraping and patting his foot on the floor. He hired a real +musician from Canada, who remained all winter playing jigs and reels +to a continuous round of feasts and merry-making. But, as the familiar +saying goes, it is often only one generation from shirt-sleeves to +shirt-sleeves. In his case, the grandchildren finally found themselves +with less than the shirt-sleeves. They appealed to Dr. Grenfell, and +he found some old clothes on the boat to save them from freezing.</p> + +<p>The whale is really a land animal, which finally found the sea more +amusing, and so took to "a roving, nautical life."</p> + +<p>Since the legs were no longer useful, in the course of time they +became wee things, and were enclosed in the thick, tough skin.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>The "arms" were left outside, but they are nothing to boast of. They +are not useful for swimming, but they help to balance the huge bulk, +and mother whale seizes her baby with them when she takes alarm.</p> + +<p>The eyes are tiny, for when a whale eats he is not particular.</p> + +<p>It takes so many millions of little bits of creatures to give a whale +a square meal, that if he misses a hundred thousand or so out of the +side of his huge jaws, at the top of his narrow gullet, he need not +worry. The whale never starves until he is stranded. Out of water he +may continue to breathe for an hour or two—but he cannot eat.</p> + +<p>"On a fine morning on the Labrador Coast," Dr. Grenfell tells us, "I +have counted a dozen whales in a single school. Now and again a huge +tail would emerge from the water and lash the surface with its full +breadth, making a sound like the firing of a cannon, while the silence +was otherwise broken only by the noise of their blowing, as they +rolled lazily along on the surface."</p> + +<p>The thresher whale is only about twenty feet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>long, but he is a fierce +fellow—the pirate of the whale family, terrorizing the rest, and +ready to tackle anything in sight.</p> + +<p>He has a fin which shows where he is as he cruises along close to the +surface. He readily eats other whales. Three threshers went after a +big cow sperm whale and her enormous infant, in shallow water. First +they killed the "calf." Then they chased the mother away, and came +back and ate the young one.</p> + +<p>In 1892 a huge sperm whale rammed the rocks near Battle Harbor, where +Dr. Grenfell now has one of his hospitals.</p> + +<p>The whale evidently wondered why the rocks didn't give way—for nearly +everything else he encountered had collapsed when he butted into it. +He lunged once too often, and was left high, if not dry, on the beach.</p> + +<p>They towed him into the harbor, a prize eighty feet in length, and +proceeded to pump the oil out of him. From the head one hundred and +forty gallons were taken. This oil in the whale's head, which may be a +third as big as his body, helps to float the great jawbones.</p> + +<p>Of course the "blowing" of the whale is one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>of its most remarkable +performances. A whale can stay below an hour, because he puts air into +his blood by spouting about sixty times, the operation taking him +about ten minutes.</p> + +<p>Grenfell helped take to pieces a "sulphur-bottom" whale ninety-five +feet long, supposed to weigh nearly 300,000 pounds. A boat could row +into the mouth. The jawbone was nearly eighteen feet long. "It took +four of us a whole afternoon, with axes and swords mounted on pike +handles, to cut out one bone and carry it to our steamer." And in +order to get back far enough to start cutting at the end, where the +joint came, they "had to walk almost in the footsteps of Jonah."</p> + +<p>The whale is the one animal that lives to a great age—and it is said +whales have lived to be a thousand years old. A wolf is aged at +twenty, a caribou or fox at fifteen. A personal acquaintance of the +Doctor was a black-backed gull which had been in captivity for +thirty-two years.</p> + +<p>The timber-wolf, which elsewhere is so fierce an animal, is +comparatively mild-mannered in Labrador, and Grenfell has found no +record of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>these wolves attacking men, though in packs they have often +followed the settlers to the doors of their houses.</p> + +<p>There is nothing good to be said of the Labrador timber-wolf. Like the +eggers of Audubon's time, he seems to kill very often not for hunger's +sake but for the sheer love of killing animals that cannot fight back. +Often the bodies of deer are found with only the tongues and the +windpipe torn out by the mean and cowardly slayer.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the wolf bites the deer in the small of the back: or several +wolves will stalk a caribou, some circling about to distract the +attention of their prey while others creep up on it from behind.</p> + +<p>The caribou are amiable and affectionate, and it is easy to tame them +if they are taken in hand when they are young. They make very +satisfactory pets.</p> + +<p>Grenfell had one which went with him on his mission boat, like a dog +or a cat.</p> + +<p>If not taken ashore, it would stand crying at the rail.</p> + +<p>It would follow him about while on land, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>swim after its master +when Grenfell was in a rowboat.</p> + +<p>In the field it would come running to be petted, and if left behind +within the palings would stand up on its hind legs and try desperately +to butt its way out and follow the Doctor.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the caribou has been successfully used to haul a sled.</p> + +<p>The Labrador black bear is almost as harmless as the caribou.</p> + +<p>Grenfell bought a cub, and in the winter-time gave him a barrel, to +see if he would know what to do, having no mother to guide him.</p> + +<p>The bear knew by instinct how to make himself a warm and cosy nest for +his long winter sleep.</p> + +<p>He found grass and moss, put them in the barrel, and trampled them +down to make a padded lining such as a human being could hardly have +bettered.</p> + +<p>We all know the story of General Israel Putnam,—how he crawled into +the wolf-den at Pomfret and shot a wolf "by the light of its own +eyes." A trapper in Labrador, instead of crawling into a den where an +animal lay, entered an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>empty lair, under a cliff. It seemed to have +been made on purpose for campers.</p> + +<p>He lit his small lantern, ate his supper, and then curled up as tidily +as any four-footed tenant and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Like the bears in the fairy tale, who came back to find Goldilocks in +the chair and then in the bed of one of them, the real owners of the +cave appeared in the night.</p> + +<p>The hunter was awakened suddenly by a noise like rolling thunder in +the narrow entrance. He turned up his lamp, and the flare showed him a +bear, so huge that it blocked the passage-way.</p> + +<p>Nimbly the hunter reached for his gun, and before the animal could do +anything more than growl and threaten, a shot had tumbled him flat.</p> + +<p>Shoving aside the body, the trapper went out into the cold starlight, +for he knew that the mate of the slain beast might appear at any +moment.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, presently over the brow of the hill there shambled in +black silhouette two more bears.</p> + +<p>He took careful aim and fired and brought them both down.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>The next time he makes a tour of his traps he probably will not choose +a bear's den for his night's lodging. A bear that is harmless in the +open may be excused for getting violent if he finds a man asleep in +the very bed he fixed for himself.</p> + +<p>Grenfell's experience with bears for pets—he has tried to tame nearly +everything animate from gulls to whales—was not so happy as with the +caribou. He found that if "pigs is pigs," bears "remain bears, and are +not to be trusted." He had two bear playmates for a long time, but +when they hit out with their paws they dealt some "very nasty +scratches," and what was fun for them was more serious for the tender +pelt of a human being.</p> + +<p>The wolverine lives by his wits.</p> + +<p>He will turn over a trap and set it off before it can nip him.</p> + +<p>He is the pest of the man who has fur traps, for he will go from trap +to trap and grab whatever he finds therein.</p> + +<p>He can climb trees and get meat which the owner thought was secure.</p> + +<p>Sometimes when he is caught he will get away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>with the trap and chain +still attached to his leg. He will even carry the trap in his mouth, +to relieve the strain. Like Kipling's Fuzzy Wuzzy in the Sudan, he has +a great way of shamming dead. He may jump up and bite the hunter, or +he may make a sudden dash for freedom. Can you blame him?</p> + +<p>One of the most satisfactory creatures of all is the beaver. I +remember a pair in a pond on the west coast of Newfoundland, at +Curling, where a beaver colony had a fine big house they had built in +a lake with a dam of their making at one end. I didn't go into the +house, which was mainly under water, but the male beaver evidently +feared I would, and just as he dived he smartly slapped the water with +his tail to give the danger signal to the lady who was placidly nosing +about and grubbing for the roots of water-plants at the other side of +the pond.</p> + +<p>"Walking one day through thick wood," says Grenfell, "we came across a +regular 'pathway,' the trees having been felled to make traveling +easy. A glance at the stumps showed that it was a road cut by beavers, +to enable them to drag their boughs of birch along more easily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>"The pathway led to a large house on the edge of a lake, and, +fortunately for us, the beaver was at home. There were other houses on +an island in the lake, and below them all a large, strong dam, some +thirty yards long, and below this two more complete dams across the +river that flowed out. The dams were made of large tree-trunks, with +quantities of lesser boughs, and were many feet thick, and very +difficult to break down. The houses were built half on land, half in +the water. The sitting-room is up-stairs on the bank, and so is the +'crew's' bedroom, and the front door is made at least three feet below +the surface to prevent being 'frozen out' in winter, or, worse still, +'frozen in.'</p> + +<p>"The whole house was neatly rounded off, and so plastered with mud as +to be warm and weather-proof. This is done by means of their +trowel-like tails, which are also of great use in swimming. The house +was so strong that even with an axe we could not get in without very +considerable delay.</p> + +<p>"In the deep pond they had dammed up, we found a quantity of birch +poles pegged out. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>The bark of these forms their winter food, and is +called 'browse.' The beaver cuts off enough for dinner, and takes it +into his house. Sitting up, he takes the stem in his fore paws, and +rolls it round and round against his chisel-shaped incisor teeth, +swallowing the long ribands of bark thus stripped off.... When +surprised they retreat to holes in the bank, of which the entrances +are hidden under water. These are called 'hovels.'</p> + +<p>"Beavers always work up wind when felling trees, and cut them on the +water side, so that they fall into the pond if possible, and the wind +helps to blow them home. This beaver we caught proved to be a +hermit—at least he was living alone. He may have been a widower of +unusual constancy. They do not destroy fish, their food in summer +being preferably the stems of the water-lilies. Otters occasionally +kill and eat beavers. When they call, the beaver has to try and be +'not at home.'"</p> + +<p>While the beaver evidently has strong feelings on the subject of the +otter, who seems to be a burglar and a murderer, he apparently does +not mind the lowly muskrat as a summer boarder, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>even though the +latter does not pay for his lodging.</p> + +<p>Of course the lord of the animate creation on land in the north—as +the sperm whale is monarch of the sea—is the polar bear. Grenfell +gives a most interesting account of this white king of beasts whom we +properly pity on warm days as he lolls and pants by the soup-like +water of his tank in one of our southern Zoos. The Doctor once saw a +polar bear swimming three miles out at sea, headed, by a marvelous +instinct, straight for the north. There was no convenient ice-pan +floating near on which he might clamber for a snooze. This bear had +been shot, and he floated high in the water, so that evidently his fat +was a great help to him, enabling him to stay at sea as long as he +pleased.</p> + +<p>The polar bears wander from their native shores: they seem to enjoy +travel, and when they sail south on pans of ice they are looking for +that toothsome morsel, the seal.</p> + +<p>If they cannot get seals, these bears devour the eggs of sea-birds on +the islands.</p> + +<p>When they swim after ducks, they hide under water, all but the nose: +and since that nose is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>black, and therefore a telltale, they have +been seen to bury it in the snow when creeping toward a seal-herd.</p> + +<p>The polar bear stands a poor chance against a pack of lively and +determined dogs.</p> + +<p>They have reason to fear his huge paws and tearing claws until he +tires, but he cannot face all ways at once, and if there are enough +dogs the struggle soon becomes hopeless.</p> + +<p>They are not fast enough to get away from the fleet smaller animals.</p> + +<p>In the water, where they swim slowly and dive expertly, the fishermen +may easily "do for them" with a blow from an axe or an oar. Though the +polar bear has a fishy taste, the Eskimos relish the meat, and the +prospect of a successful bear-hunt delights the savage breast.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XV" id="XV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THE KEEPER OF THE LIGHT</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Once I asked Dr. Grenfell if he was tired. His blue eyes lit up as if +I had thrown salt into a fire. He threw his head back and said: +"Tired? I was never tired in my life!"</p> + +<p>But I thought he was weary that September evening in 1919 when he sat +with his legs unkinked to the cheerful blaze, in the big living-room +of his comfortable house at St. Anthony.</p> + +<p>The wind can go whooping around that house all it likes and it never +will get in unless it is invited. That house was nailed and shingled, +doored and windowed, to stand up against the stiffest blast that ever +came howling across the rocks and bergs from the Humboldt Glacier or +even the North Pole.</p> + +<p>Part of the time a blind piano-tuner was at work groping for lost +chords among the strings of Mrs. Grenfell's piano. The piano didn't +seem to need tuning so much. But the man needed the work. You can +imagine there is not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>much for a blind piano-tuner to do in +Newfoundland. Most of the music is the canned variety of the Victrola. +Or, if there is a dance, someone may squat obligingly in a corner and +hum very loudly what is called by its true name—"chin-music."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grenfell, happy to have her husband back from the gales and fogs +for a little while, was sitting in the puffy armchair with her +knitting-needles, and the boys, Pascoe and Wilfred, were up-stairs +with their teacher, making out jig-saw puzzles in arithmetic or +knocking the tar out of the French Grammar, with various loud sounds.</p> + +<p>What the telephone is to busy men in America, giving them no peace +even in the bathtub, the telegraph is to the Doctor in Newfoundland. +If it isn't a man on the doorstep with a bleeding cut or a hacking +cough, then it is a boy with a message which comes from a point twenty +to sixty miles off. Most of the time your doctor or mine has a few +blocks to go: and we think it hard, and he thinks so too, if a patient +clamors for him in the middle of the night. But the middle of the +night is the heart of Grenfell's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>office hours. Once after conducting +a late evening service in the church at Battle Harbor he had to doctor +forty patients in the room off the chancel before he could get away.</p> + +<p>So it was no surprise to him, in the midst of a tale of the old days +at Oxford on the football-field, to have a rat-tat like Poe's raven at +the door, and a respectful "young visitor" doffing his sou'wester.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, a telegram."</p> + +<p>Grenfell tore it open.</p> + +<p>It read: "Doctor would you please come. My throat is full up and I +can't eat or sleep."</p> + +<p>It was signed "J.N. Coté."</p> + +<p>"That," said Grenfell, "is the lighthouse-keeper at Greenley Island, +just west of the line that divides Canadian Labrador from Newfoundland +Labrador. He has a big job on his hands. He has two fog-horns, each +with a twelve horse-power Fairbanks gasoline engine, so that if one's +put out of business he can use the other. He's had fog all summer—and +a sub-tonsillar abscess, too. The big Canadian Pacific ships go by his +place. It's a bad spot. The light-keeper at Forteau tried to bring out +his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>wife and five children—and lost all but one child on the rocks. +Another keeper at Belle Isle tried to bring out a family of about the +same size—and they all were lost. A doctor stopped in on Captain Coté +on the down trip from Battle Harbor, on his way back to Baltimore. +Evidently whatever he did wasn't enough. Looks as if I must go and +finish the job."</p> + +<p>As if to settle the question, even while he spoke there came another +messenger—like the first, a volunteer—bringing another telegram.</p> + +<p>This time, as in those messages sent from Cape Norman about the woman, +the tone was sharper, more imperative and anxious.</p> + +<p>"Please come as fast as you can to operate me in the throat and save +my life."</p> + +<p>The shade of concern in the Doctor's grave face deepened.</p> + +<p>"Coté doesn't cry out for nothing," he said. "He's a real man. We must +go. Would you rather stay here and rest a few days, or will you go with +me?" Who would care to toast his toes and dally with a book, while +Grenfell was abroad on such a mission? I had a quick vision of the +gallant run the <i>Strathcona</i> would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>called on to make—squirming +through the rocks and bucking the headwinds and the heavy seas, to save +that lighthouse-keeper and keep the big, proud ships from Montreal and +Quebec from running blind in the dark. Not far from that spot a British +man-of-war ran aground in 1922 and was a total loss, though happily her +men were saved. I have been in the wireless cabin on the topmost crags +of Belle Isle when the Straits all round about, fog-bound, were +clamorous with the ships, anchor-down, calling to one another and +whimpering like little lost children trying to clasp hands and afraid +in the dark together.</p> + +<p>It would be a run of a hundred miles from St. Anthony to Captain +Coté's strangling throat—and what miles they were! Not until the +middle of June had the mail-boat—that poor, doomed <i>Ethie</i> of the +dog's rescue—been able to pierce the ice. Where those ice-pans met at +Cape Bauld the grinding, rending and heaving of their battle was worse +to hear and see than all the polar bears or the tusked walruses that +ever rose up and fought together.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell could be perfectly sure that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>he would have to run a +gauntlet all the way—picking and choosing between crags on the one +hand and bergs on the other: just such a risky, "chancy" course as he +most relishes. While he crumpled the telegram in his hand I could see +his eyes light up again with that flash they showed when I asked him +if he was ever tired.</p> + +<p>His pockets at that moment were full of pleading, piteous letters from +White Bay, meant to pull him to the other side of the island. One of +them, from a desperate woman, after saying her husband had caught but +eleven dollars' worth of fish all season, wound up with an appeal for +oddments of clothes to put on the children, for "We are all as naked +as birds."</p> + +<p>It was hard to say no to the heart-throbs of those begging letters in +his pocket. But Captain Coté's life was not one life. It was the lives +of thousands—men, women and children—going down to the sea in ships, +faring through the St. Lawrence, and the Gulf, and then those terrible +Straits of Belle Isle, to the Old Country.</p> + +<p>So we started. But was Mrs. Grenfell going to stay home with the +piano, and French verbs, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>and her fancy-work, while the <i>Strathcona</i> +nosed the seething waters? Not on your life! Wilfred and Pascoe had a +perfectly good governess, and while it was hard on them to remain +behind with their books, their turn with Father was coming.</p> + +<p>The big black dog, named Fritz, had no French verbs to study, and no +measly sums in arithmetic to do, so—at one running jump—he was added +to the passenger-list. His berth was chiefly out on the end of the +bowsprit—he was more ambitious than a figurehead. There he could +sniff the breeze, and see the shore, even when there wasn't any, and +bark defiance at all the dogs and the sea-pusses.</p> + +<p>The <i>Strathcona</i> used both steam and sail. She was ketch-rigged, with +six sails—mainsail, foresail, two jibs, two topsails. One of those +topsails was a fancy, oblong thing which Dr. Grenfell's crew +mistrusted as though it were witchcraft. He had brought it from the +North Sea; they had never seen the likes of it before, and their minds +are likely to be sternly set against anything new. But the Doctor, who +is restless on shipboard, climbed to the crow's nest now and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>then to +adjust the strange contraption, and make sure that it was using the +wind in such a way as to develop the last ounce of pulling power. This +was no pleasure cruise. It was a run for life.</p> + +<p>The sea was a vast blue smile as we swaggered out of St. Anthony +Harbor. What a fickle creature is that northern ocean! This was the +first clear day in ever so long—and now the sun and the water were in +conspiracy to pretend it had always been this gay, fair weather.</p> + +<p>The only blemish on the seascape was a troop of bergs, six in number, +out yonder to starboard. But they were dim and distant as we bore in +toward the headland at Quirpon Tickle. Quirpon is called "Carpoon" by +the fishermen because that isn't the way to pronounce it. And Tickle +has nothing to do with making you laugh. Quite the contrary. It means +a very serious business of creeping and twisting snakewise through a +channel that winds among the rocks. You are perfectly sure you are +about to ram the face of a wall—and then, lo and behold! there is a +way out at the last minute, and it leads you to another wall and +another rift that suddenly and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>impossibly opens to let you through. +You have to think of the pirates who used to run and hide in places +like that, and give the slip to honest sailor men from France and +England who were trying to run them down. If they didn't meet the +pirates they met and fought each other, which was vastly diverting to +the pirates and perhaps just as satisfying to themselves.</p> + +<p>There were fishermen's dories bouncing about like happy children in +the shallower waters near the shore. I happened to be at the wheel, +and my one idea was not to hit those sharp and cruel rocks, not to +strike a fisherman, and to give the widest berth I could to the +distant menace of those icebergs.</p> + +<p>Grenfell, red-booted and brown-sweatered, put his head in at the +wheel-house door, and the wind ruffled his silver hair as he cried: +"Run her so close to those rocks that you all but skin her!"</p> + +<p>You see, his mind was only on Captain Coté, with the choke in his +throat, strangling and struggling, but going on with his duty as the +keeper of the light with the beams outflashing to the long, far bellow +of his mighty horn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>In our race against time, we were burning coal, that precious +commodity, then twenty-four dollars a ton,—and much more costly +to-day. Spruce and fir and juniper were piled on deck—some of the +wood across the barrels of whale-meat, in a vain attempt to shut off +the rotten smell of the food so loved by the dogs. But, hasten as we +might, the night closed down like a lid on a box as we sounded our +gingerly way through the perilous twistings of the Tickle. The wind +was rising, and as we looked back we saw the waves, running white and +high at a mad dance in cold moonlight. If we went on, and came out +into the Straits, the wind would hold us there without an inch of +gain, though we had the full power of the engines going and all sails +set. The <i>Strathcona</i>, a tiny steamer of less than fifty tons, was no +match for the sea aroused in opposition. It is a miracle that this +small boat, the <i>Strathcona</i>, lived so long, with so many attempts of +ice and rock to punch the life out of her wherever she went.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell, as his habit is on shipboard, rose at two, at three and +at four to study his charts and lay out his course, and at twenty +minutes to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>five his strong hands were at the wheel, on which are the +words "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."</p> + +<p>The dog Fritz had been sleeping all night on a thick blue woolen +blanket in the bunk below mine. He had no business there, and he knew +it, but as regularly as I turned him out into the nipping air and the +frosty starlight he would return indignantly. "What's the matter with +you?" his wrinkled face seemed to say. "You're just a visitor on this +boat, and I belong here. What right have you to keep me out of a nice +warm bed? You don't need this whole cabin, you selfish man." Finally +my patience gave out and I let him have his way.</p> + +<p>Under the red edges of the dawn, a fresh breeze blowing, we came +within hail of that ugly rock named the Onion. "In that bay over +there," laughed Grenfell, "we were blown across the ice—sled and dogs +and all—when we were trying to round up the reindeer herd. We had the +time of our lives!</p> + +<p>"You see, we had brought a bunch of reindeer all the way from Lapland, +and Lapp herders came with them, to keep off the dogs and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>prevent the +natives from shooting them as if they were caribou. On one occasion we +had a real 'Night before Christmas' celebration, and St. Nick +delighted the children at the Orphanage where he came with his gifts +on a big sled behind a real team of reindeer.</p> + +<p>"But the reindeer spread all over the peninsula, and the Lapps +couldn't keep track of their charges. The hunters and the dogs were +hard on the trail of the herd. You couldn't blame hungry men and +famished animals.</p> + +<p>"I meant in time to persuade the people to give up their dogs and use +reindeer instead. The reindeer could draw sleds, and would give milk, +and meat too, if necessary, and their furs would be valuable. There +wouldn't be any risk of their hurting children, or strangers, or sick +people, and they wouldn't make night hideous with their howling.</p> + +<p>"But at last, in order to save the remnant, it was necessary to move +them, and I decided to load them on a fishing-vessel and take them +across the Straits to the St. Augustine River country, where they +could increase in peace, and the dogs would not bother them, and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>Canadian Government could protect them from any Indian hunters who +might come along.</p> + +<p>"It was a fine plan, on paper. But it was like the old recipe for +making a rabbit pie—'first catch your hare.' The reindeer having had +the run of the open spaces so long saw no reason why they should be +caught and put on a boat and carried off.</p> + +<p>"So they gave us a run for it, I can tell you! All over the place we +rushed, shouting and trying to lasso or corner the terrified animals. +I never laughed so hard in my life. The wind was blowing great guns, +and you simply couldn't stand up against it. We caught a great many of +the reindeer. But a lot of them romped off into the woods and took to +the hills and we never saw them again. Since they were moved to Canada +they have done well—and some day, when the people are ready to have +them, I want to move them back and see if we can't replace the +dog-teams with them."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the little ship had turned her head away from the unsavory +Onion, and was running on, over a long diagonal, to cross the straits +in the bared teeth of the green and yeasty waves. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>That she was +top-heavy was plainly to be seen, with her barrels of whale-meat and +her high-piled fire-wood on deck, and almost no ballast or cargo +below.</p> + +<p>As we stood out into the middle of the channel, I thought of the great +boats that must feel their way through the dense fog in evil weather. +They would have to be honking like wild geese, even though the straits +at their narrowest between Flower's Cove and Greenley Island are ten +miles wide. Fog is a terrible deceiver. I remember coming up the East +Coast on the mail-steamer <i>Invermore</i> in 1913. In a day after leaving +Twillingate we were nearly wrecked three times. First, when we thought +we were ten miles offshore, we found a tiny skiff, with two persons +aboard, in our path—we nearly ran it down. Father and small son, +fourteen, were fishing for cod, and had their meagre catch in a tin +pail. Captain Kane had stopped our boat—we were going at quarter +speed—and he had the man come up on the bridge to show us where the +land lay. "Out yonder!" The ancient mariner pointed to the northwest. +A rowboat was manned: in a few <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>minutes its crew came back and +reported that the rocks were not more than two hundred yards away. So +we backed off, and steamed hard in the opposite direction. But only an +hour or so later,—pulled steadily on and on toward the shore, by the +strong, insetting tide,—we saw the grey edge of the fog lifting like +a table-cloth, and there were those cruel rocks again, dragons in a +lair, waiting to receive us, crush our bones and drink our blood. +Again we backed away—and before long the fierce jangle of the bell in +the engine room and the captain's sharp accent of command from the +bridge once more halted us suddenly. There, directly before our prow, +was a great white wall of ice, which had taken almost the color of the +mist. It was an iceberg that barred our path, and if we had been +speeding like the <i>Titanic</i> instead of creeping like a snail, it would +doubtless have been the end of the <i>Invermore</i>. Only one more tragedy +of a missing ship.</p> + +<p>At four in the afternoon, when the great rock bastion of Belle Isle +loomed across our bows, we gave up for the night: and next morning, +between seven and eight, no fewer than eight <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>enormous icebergs +crossed our bows in a glittering processional.</p> + +<p>But to-day, mid-stream, there was no fog, and despite the roughness of +the water the cool air and clear sunlight were cause for rejoicing. +"Isn't it fun to live?" exclaimed the Doctor, as he swung the wheel; +and the <i>Strathcona</i>, feeling her master's hand, trembled and obeyed.</p> + +<p>Fritz, out yonder on the prow, was staring toward the bleak Labrador +coast. Was he thinking of dogs to fight, and fish to eat, and a snooze +on the beach, after the run was over and the anchor was down? No—he +was looking at something near at hand—and his ears were even quicker +than ours to catch over the voice of waves or wind the cry of men in a +power-boat off the starboard bow.</p> + +<p>There were three of them. Two of them held up the third man, whose +bare head flopped over on his chest. The collar of his overcoat was +turned up to shelter that agonizing throat. Yes, it was Captain Coté, +the man we came so far to seek.</p> + +<p>"Doctor!" they called. "He couldn't wait! We've brought him out to +ye!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>A moment more and hands as tender as they were willing were lifting +him over the rail. A wee baby would have had no gentler handling.</p> + +<p>Captain Coté's face was the greenish white of a boiled potato. It was +seamed with deep lines of pain and sleepless nights. He was carried to +the brass rungs of the ladder and lowered.</p> + +<p>"Easy! easy!" those who let him down were saying to each other. They +seemed to fear he would break if they dropped him.</p> + +<p>By the light of a battered tin lamp Grenfell ran a needle into his +throat with the novocaine that would destroy the pain of the +operation.</p> + +<p>Then he took his thin scissors a foot long and thrust them into the +abscess under the tonsils.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, Captain Coté had found the use of his tongue +again, and, waving both hands round his ears as he talked, he was +thanking God and Dr. Grenfell, and giving us the full history of the +dreadful months he spent before help came.</p> + +<p>Next day we landed on his island—Greenley Island. From the small +wharf where women were cleaning fish there were two lines of planking +laid, on cinders, for perhaps a thousand feet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>through the long green +grass to the red brick lighthouse tower. On these wooden rails was the +chassis of a Ford car, and we rode in state. But you had to stick +closely to the track, or you came to grief on the rough, shelly soil +alongside.</p> + +<p>"It's the first automobile ride I ever had in Labrador!" the Doctor +gleefully exclaimed.</p> + +<p>In the lighthouse was a living-room with a talking-machine, a violin, +a typewriter and other things to add to the comfort of a home and make +a family happy.</p> + +<p>The patient was brought into the room by his beaming wife and two of +his children.</p> + +<p>"How are you this morning, Captain?" asked Grenfell.</p> + +<p>"Feeling fine, Doctor."</p> + +<p>"Did you sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Slept like a baby. First time in three months."</p> + +<p>"And can you eat?"</p> + +<p>"I can eat rocks, Doctor."</p> + +<p>Then the Captain brought out a pocketbook stuffed with greenbacks. +Twelve hundred dollars a year, with nothing to spend it for, since <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>he +gets his living, seems a fortune to a man in that part of the world.</p> + +<p>"How much do I owe you?" He pulled out three ten-dollar bills.</p> + +<p>"One of those will do," said the Doctor, quietly.</p> + +<p>It was right for him to take the money. Self-respect on Captain Coté's +part demanded that he should pay. Grenfell lets his patients pay in +wood or fish or whatever they have, a value merely nominal compared +with what they receive. But he wants them to feel—and they, too, wish +to feel—that they are not beggars, living on the dole of his charity.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Doctor, how about the coal you burned getting here? How +much does that come to? The Canadian Government'll give it back to +you. We've got some down on the wharf. We can take it out now and put +it on your boat."</p> + +<p>The emergency run of the <i>Strathcona</i> had used five tons and a +quarter. At twenty-four dollars a ton, this would be worth one hundred +and twenty-six dollars.</p> + +<p>We went down to the wharf, and tried to put <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>the coal, which was soft +coal, like dust, on a skiff, to take it two hundred yards in a +half-gale to the <i>Strathcona</i>.</p> + +<p>But the mighty wind blew the coal out of the boat as fast as it was +shoveled aboard.</p> + +<p>Then Captain Coté said, "We'll send it, when calm weather comes, to +Sister Bailey at Forteau." She was a wonderful trained nurse,—a +friend of Edith Cavell,—who lived in the near-by village, and had a +cow that fought off the dogs and gave milk to the sick babies.</p> + +<p>So Captain Coté's life was saved and the great boats from Montreal and +Quebec with their hundreds of passengers could enter and traverse the +Straits in any weather, because the keeper of the light was at his +post once more.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XVI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>THROUGH THE BLIZZARD</h4> +<br /> + +<p>Another trip was to the north, in January, over the thirty miles from +St. Anthony to Cape Norman, to save a woman's life. It all looks so +easy when you get out the map and measure it across white space.</p> + +<p>But when that white space is snow instead of paper, and there are +thirty miles of it to flog through, instead of three inches under your +hand—that, as Kipling would say, is another story.</p> + +<p>Over the telegraph line from Cape Norman to St. Anthony came a piteous +message from a young fisherman. It said his wife was dying. Grenfell +telegraphed back, the message running something like this: "My +assistant has gone off with the dogs to answer another call. Cannot +leave my patients at the hospital and cannot get any dogs till he +comes back."</p> + +<p>Then another message came from the distracted husband: "Doctor, my +wife is dying. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>For God's sake find another team somewhere and come."</p> + +<p>The night, as the island saying is, was as dark as the inside of a +cow. Grenfell stumbled out into the blackness to hunt for dogs. The +trail to Cape Norman is very rough, and the January snow was deep. The +wind blowing over it threw the snow, biting and blinding, in the face +of anyone who attempted the trail.</p> + +<p>But Grenfell did not hesitate. From house to house he went, to rouse +the occupants like another Paul Revere, and beg for dogs that he might +use on the desperate journey.</p> + +<p>One man let him take four. Another, for pay, gave him a fifth animal. +A boy named Walter said he would get four more dogs and would drive +the ill-assorted team. By that time it was midnight.</p> + +<p>"We'll start at 4:30," said the Doctor. At 4:30 it would still be +pitch-black.</p> + +<p>Grenfell went back to the hospital, roused the head nurse, and went to +every patient to make sure that while he was gone no accident would +happen that he could possibly prevent.</p> + +<p>At 4:30 he was ready to start. Few men are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>his match for staying up +all night and looking as fresh as a mountain daisy after the vigil.</p> + +<p>He opened the door and a blizzard swept in and tried to rush him off +his feet. Through the whirling drift staggered Walter, dogless.</p> + +<p>"Where are those dogs?" asked the Doctor. He expects men to keep +agreements made with him. He couldn't get through the length and +breadth of his big day's work if they didn't.</p> + +<p>Walter shook his snow-covered head. "I ain't brought 'em, sir. It's +too bad a night to be startin' before sun-up. The dogs don't know each +other: they comes from here, there an' all over. They'll be fightin' +in the traces an' eatin' each other up in the dark. Us must be able to +see 'em in order to drive 'em. You know what dogs is like, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Grenfell. "But you're the driver, and I leave it to +you. We must get off as soon as we can."</p> + +<p>Dr. Grenfell went to his room to snatch a catnap before the start. +Another telegram woke him as he was drowsing off.</p> + +<p>"Come along soon. Wife worse."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>The storm instead of going down was more violent than ever when the +grey day came. The sun was not seen at all. On the contrary, the air +was filled with a mad whirl of pelting, stinging flakes almost as hard +as Indian arrow-heads. The dogs would be no good in the teeth of such +a storm—for the team-mates who work with a will are those that are +best acquainted, and with an unknown driver this team suddenly thrown +together would have pulled as many different ways as there were fierce +and headstrong dogs. They would be at each other's throats before they +were out of sight of the houses.</p> + +<p>As he waited, walking restlessly up and down, in his brown sweater and +thick leggins, Grenfell was plagued with the picture of the woman +fighting for her life till help should come from the one man who could +give it.</p> + +<p>Still another of those telegrams! This time the message read: "Come +immediately if you can. Wife still holding out."</p> + +<p>Just as he read the words, there were voices, and battering hands at +the door.</p> + +<p>Two men, white as Santa Claus from head to foot, staggered into the +room, with the wind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>whooping at their backs as if in a wild anger +that they escaped its clutches.</p> + +<p>Grenfell, accustomed as he was to the brave men of a hard country, +fairly gasped when he saw them.</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from?"</p> + +<p>"We comes to fetch you, sir, for the sick woman at Cape Norman."</p> + +<p>"Do you think dogs can get me there now?" the Doctor asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. We was blown here most o' the way, wi' the wind at our +backs. The wind drove us. The dogs can't make head against it, not +till the wind shifts clean round the other way, sir."</p> + +<p>Ten miles of their journey had been in the fairly sheltered lee of the +land. Twenty miles had been before the pitiless sweep of the wind over +the unprotected sea-ice. If the snow had not drifted so heavily, they +would have been borne along at a pace so rapid that their sled would +have been wrecked.</p> + +<p>"When was it you left Cape Norman?" was the Doctor's next question.</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock last night, sir."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>So they had been coming on all through the night, without rest or +food. Yet the first thing they had done when the sled stopped at last +before Grenfell's door was to get something for their dogs to eat. +Already, the animals lay snug and tranquil in a drift, as if it were a +feather-bed—sleeping the sleep of good dogs who have done their work +and earned their daily fish-heads and know of nothing more to want in +this life or the next.</p> + +<p>The Doctor patted the broad shoulders of the gaunt, shy spokesman. "Go +into the hospital and get a good, big, hot dinner," he said. "Then go +to bed. We'll wake you when it's time to start."</p> + +<p>But after dark—and the darkness came on very early—the two troubled +men were at Grenfell's door again. "Us couldn't sleep, sir, for +thinkin' of the woman. Us have got another telegram sayin' please to +hurry. The storm is not so bad as it was, sir. If you think fitten to +start, we're ready."</p> + +<p>"Call Walter," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Us has called he, sir. He's gettin' the dogs. He'll be here in a +minute."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>Grenfell and his comrades knew that the lull in the storm did not mean +the end of it. It was gathering strength, and might at any moment +break loose again with redoubled fury. But he—and they—couldn't +stand waiting any longer. They must go. It was as if out of the black +distances they heard the thin, far, pleading voice of the sufferer +calling to them, to come and save her.</p> + +<p>Their first task was to get across the harbor of St. Anthony in the +dark and the eddying snow. They had their snowshoes, but in spite of +these they sank to their knees in slush, and the two dog-teams +floundered and half-swam. The team from Cape Norman went first, to +encourage the others. A man stumbled ahead of them all, to break out a +footway. Walter trudged in advance of the rear team, with Grenfell +driving an assortment of beasts he had never handled before. Only a +dog-driver knows what that means.</p> + +<p>Ascending the flank of the hill across the harbor, they found +themselves almost overwhelmed by the deep snow, with more piling down +from above, as they fought their way foot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>by foot up the hill. They +had to take hold of the sleds and lift them to help the dogs, and the +sweat rolled off them in spite of the keen bite of the cold. When they +topped the rise at last, the wind struck them full force, so that +their loudest shouts could not be heard in the roaring onrush of the +wind. The slope was a steep glaze of ice, and down it they coasted, +running into tree-trunks and rocks that threatened to wrench the sleds +and injure the dogs and men. It was hardly better when they reached +the bottom. Here the Bartlett River became their necessary roadway, +and twice Grenfell and others broke through into the swirling current +and were almost carried away to be drowned under the ice.</p> + +<div class="img"><a name="imagep290" id="imagep290"></a> +<a href="images/imagep290.jpg"> +<img border="0" src="images/imagep290.jpg" width="85%" alt="Where Four Feet Are Better Than Two" /></a><br /> +<p class="cen sc" style="margin-top: .2em;">Where Four Feet Are Better Than Two<span class="totoi"><a href="#toi">ToList</a></span></p> +</div> + +<p>Down-stream they battled their course—no wonder "Battle Harbor" is +the name of the Labrador inlet not far away. It is a battle to get +anywhere in winter on this coast. At half-past one in the morning they +came to where the twenty-mile stretch of sea-ice began.</p> + +<p>After that experience of a few years before on the ice-pan, Grenfell +would not have been to blame if he had called a halt and said, "No, +not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>out there! Let us take the longest way round, by the shore, and +be safe."</p> + +<p>But that has never been his way. When duty calls, he takes the air +line to the scene of action. So it was on this awful night. It had +taken six hours to do ten miles. The sea was throwing the ice about +with a mighty booming and crashing like the firing of cannon. The +blizzard stung their faces and lashed their bodies. Grenfell was ready +to dare the passage. But the men who came for him would not have it +so. His life was precious in their sight: and they knew what its +preservation meant to all that helpless lonesomeness of the winter +coast.</p> + +<p>It lacked six hours to daylight. If they waited, the dogs would not +freeze, but men might suffer, and perhaps lose their lives.</p> + +<p>But the rugged pair from Cape Norman said that in the preceding fall +someone had put up a "tilt"—a log refuge—in the woods near by. They +roved about until to their exceeding joy they found it.</p> + +<p>There was not merely a shack of spruce-logs. In the shelter there was +a stove, and beside the stove was a pile of wood. It is the habit of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>the men of the North to think of those who come after them. They who +have been through a winter understand what it means to depend on +others and have others depend on them. Those who do not play the game +that generous, open-handed, far-sighted way have no friends and are +despised by their neighbors.</p> + +<p>The dogs fell asleep in the snow. One of the Cape Norman men "bust +open" the river with his axe and filled the kettle for tea. But even +while Grenfell was fussing with the knots of the dunnage bag to get +out the tea and the sugar, he heard his comrade's pipe fall to the +floor.</p> + +<p>Grenfell looked up. The good soul, standing erect, was fast asleep. It +had been sixty hours since he had slept, and forty-eight of these had +been spent on that terrible trail where there was no trail. Flesh and +blood rebelled at last. Even the records of ambulance-drivers in the +war have seldom equalled such endurance. The sleeper was roused and +put on the bench. He tried again to stuff his pipe with his frightful +rubbish called tobacco. But the pipe clattered to the floor again: he +was dead to the world: his snoring shook the peace of dreamland, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>would have broken the glass in the tilt if there had been any glass to +break.</p> + +<p>What might be called dawn came at last, but with it the snow returned +fast and thick as the flies and mosquitoes of a Labrador spring.</p> + +<p>The snow cut off their view of the sea, but they heard it roaring as +though possessed of all the devils.</p> + +<p>Over that roaring there seemed to come to their ears again the still +small voice of the woman in misery—hopeful, waiting for them, +trusting the Doctor who had never failed her yet.</p> + +<p>They were not the sort who would say sea-ice was impassable, if humans +and dogs could traverse it.</p> + +<p>But examination showed that there was no way over the partly frozen +sea.</p> + +<p>Greatly against their will, they must take the roundabout route +overland. By two in the afternoon the ice held sufficiently to let +them cross to Crow Island, and there they tried to boil water and make +tea. The blizzard defeated them. In the blinding snow, they set their +course by the compass, and the dogs plunged on. They said nothing to +the dogs after <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>that, but let them follow their own cold noses. The +wonderful beasts took them straight to a tiny shore village. A short +dash from the village, and the long run was over. In a jiffy, Grenfell +had out the surgical instruments and put the patient under ether. +To-day the woman is not merely alive but in the best of health, and +she thinks of Dr. Grenfell as the Greeks used to think of a god.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XVII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h4>WHY THE DOCTOR WAS LATE</h4> +<br /> + +<p>We have seen by this time that Grenfell does not rush slam-bang into +danger for the mere sake of "the tumult and the shouting," like a +soldier of fortune.</p> + +<p>Once he said to me: "I'm like these dogs. Every time they hear a fight +going on at the other end of the village they feel that they have to +get into it, and off they go, pell-mell. Whenever I hear of a good +scrap in progress anywhere in the world, my first impulse is to drop +everything else and get into the struggle. Then I realize that I'm +serving my fellow-man as truly by staying just where I am, and trying +to do my duty in my place."</p> + +<p>He is fearlessly willing to spend his life in heroic deeds: but he +always has a definite purpose in view: he is not posing for the +motion-pictures. So when he harnesses his dogs to go on a journey we +may be pretty sure that at the other end of the run there is some man, +woman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>or child who needs the Doctor, and who takes the medicine of +hope just from seeing him at the bedside, before he has done anything +with a knife or a needle.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1919 the Doctor had to go to New York. It wasn't a +sick person this time: it was a board of directors that wanted to hear +his report on his work, and was to discuss with him big plans to raise +$1,500,000 for an endowment fund to carry it on. A Seamen's Institute, +a string of hospitals, several mission steamers, an industrial school +and a number of dispensaries take a lot of money to run, even with +many volunteer helpers.</p> + +<p>Most of us, if we find it inconvenient to attend a meeting, telephone +or write politely to say we have the laryngitis or the shingles or +some other good excuse, and are very, very sorry that we cannot come.</p> + +<p>But Grenfell, having said he would be in New York at the end of May, +was bound to be there in spite of fog and bog, sea and snow and berg, +if it was humanly possible. I remember his story of what happened as +vividly as though it were yesterday, for I also had an appointment +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>with him at that time—and he was only a month late in keeping it.</p> + +<p>He had written me:</p> + +<p>"I am in a terrible state about my boat: she is still in the blockade +of ice, after two months fighting it. It is harder to beat than the +Huns, but I am very anxious you should come with me, even if we have +to canoe down the coast."</p> + +<p>The story behind his finally successful attempt to reach New York on +that occasion is as follows:</p> + +<p>He set apart a month to make the journey, which in open summer weather +would require only a week. He meant to go round the northern tip of +Newfoundland, from his headquarters on the east coast at St. Anthony.</p> + +<p>He planned, therefore, to go by dog-team northward to the Straits of +Belle Isle, and then alongshore rounding Cape Bauld and Cape Norman, +and on down the west coast to the railroad at Curling which would take +him to Port aux Basques. At the latter place, the southwestern corner +of Newfoundland, an ice-breaking steamer would carry him over Cabot +Straits to North Sydney, and there he could get a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>train which would +make connections for New York.</p> + +<p>There is what dogs would consider a fair route alongshore on the +western coast. And the dogs' opinion is worth considering.</p> + +<p>But there sprang up a continuing gale, with a blizzard in its teeth. +It rocked and hammered and broke the ice with the fury of great guns +round about the headlands. As the trail for much of the way lay along +the sea-ice, it would have been as impossible for the dogs to go by it +as it was to make that short-cut across the bay when Doctor and dogs +had that terrible experience on the ice-pan.</p> + +<p>"Very well then," said Grenfell, "we'll try a motor-boat."</p> + +<p>Motor-boating is fun enough in summer on the placid reaches of the +Delaware or the Hudson, but it is a very different matter on the coast +of Newfoundland, in a narrow lane between great chunks that have +broken off a Greenland glacier and lean brown crags with the sea +crashing white and high upon them. If he went in a motor-boat, +Grenfell would have to be on the lookout day and night for ice-pans +and bergs, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>lest they close in and crush his boat as an elephant's +tread would squash a peanut.</p> + +<p>When the blizzard that had spoiled the ice eased off, Grenfell had his +boat ready. After two or three days of creeping in the lee of the +rocks and trying to keep out of the clutch of the breakers, he would +find himself at a point where he could begin a lonely trek overland, a +hundred miles to the railroad, with his pack of food and clothing on +his stalwart shoulders.</p> + +<p>Just such a lonely walk as that many a sealer, fisherman or clergyman +has made. If night overtakes a man, and he is far from a hut, he kicks +a hole in a drift, lines it with fir boughs, makes his fire and crawls +in snugly. He finds snow-water will not hurt him if he mixes it with +tea or sugar. Grenfell, accustomed to hiking with the dog-team, felt +no dread of a night with a snow-bank for his feather-bed.</p> + +<p>The start was made auspiciously. The ice kept well out of the way till +Grenfell, who had one man with him, cleared the harbor. As they went +on, however, the east wind spied the bold little craft, and came on +like an evil thing, to play cat-and-mouse with it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>It brought in the ice, and the ice was constantly pushing the boat +toward the shore, toward which the current was pulling like a +remorseless unseen hand.</p> + +<p>"Keep her off the rocks, Bill!" warned the Doctor, poling vigorously +at the stern.</p> + +<p>"I'm tryin' to, sir. But the wind is wonderful strong, and I'm +thinkin'——"</p> + +<p>Whatever Bill was thinking, he was rudely interrupted by a rock that +did not show above the surface. They were in a most perilous position. +The boat, caught on the tidal reef, tossed to and fro, and the +propeller, lifted high out of water, whirled like an electric fan. +Through a hole in the prow the water rushed in. The two men sprang to +the leak and stuffed it with their hats and coats and anything on +which they could lay their hands.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the hole was not large, and as they had hammer and nails +and pieces of board for such an emergency they managed to shut out the +water with rude patchwork. They bailed the boat and shoved it off +again, and crept onward. But the thermometer dropped fast, and in the +intense cold the circulating pipes froze and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>burst. That damage, too, +was laboriously repaired, and they went ashore and spent the night +under the glittering starlight with no coverlid but juniper boughs, +beside a roaring fire. The next day they saw that the ice had so +closed in to the southward that their little boat could not possibly +go forward.</p> + +<p>They must, therefore, retreat to St. Anthony, and try to get round the +Cape and into the Straits of Belle Isle.</p> + +<p>But they found they were now shut off even from their home port of St. +Anthony!</p> + +<p>Leaving the motor-boat at a tiny fishing-hamlet, they borrowed a small +rowboat, and went out to "buck the ice."</p> + +<p>The ice "made mock of their mad little craft." While they were hunting +to and fro for crevices through which they might work their way, their +old enemy the east wind was narrowing the channels till they saw that +the tiny cockle-shell must soon be caught in the grip of the ice-pack +and crushed to flinders.</p> + +<p>"Jump out, Bill!" commanded the Doctor, setting the example. "We've +got to lift her onto the pan!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>They seized the prow and hauled with might and main.</p> + +<p>But the boat was doomed. They could not pull the stern free in time. +The ice came on, ramming and jamming—and in an instant the stern was +cut off, and was crushed to kindling-wood. The ice chewed the +splinters savagely, as a husky gnaws a bone.</p> + +<p>This time there was no question of repairs. They had half a boat, and +the gaunt cliffs of the shore were far away, with bits of ice dotting +the black water between.</p> + +<p>They had their guns, and they fired at intervals to signal to the +shore.</p> + +<p>"Evidently there ain't nobody at home," Bill remarked grimly. The pan +was taking them out to the sea, just as it did with Grenfell and the +dogs on that earlier memorable occasion.</p> + +<p>Bill was a venturesome soul. "I'm going to copy," he announced +briefly.</p> + +<p>That meant, as I have explained, that he would jump from one cake of +ice to the next. Eliza crossing the river-ice in "Uncle Tom's Cabin" +was nothing to the feat he set himself in that perilous, pitiless +northern sea. There <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>was no causeway to the land. He would have to do +as a lumberman does in a log-jam, jumping before the object he has +stepped on has time to sink with him. There would be no chance to +think. He would have to keep on the move every instant, and death +might be the penalty of a misstep.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe," said Bill, as coolly as though it were a question of running +bases at a ball-game, "mebbe I'll git close enough to the land so some +o' the boys 'll see me. Lend me your boat-hook, will you, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor, who would rather have taken the water-hazard himself, +passed over the boat-hook.</p> + +<p>Bill jumped from pan to pan, nimble as a goat. Fortune seemed to be +favoring the brave. His leaps would have broken records at a +track-meet. Sometimes he put out the boat-hook after the manner of a +pole-vaulter, and flung himself with its aid across a terrifying +chasm.</p> + +<p>But as Grenfell watched and waited in suspense, all of a sudden, to +his acute dismay, he saw the pole slip from his comrade's grasp.</p> + +<p>Bill staggered on the edge of a pan, and gave <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>a desperate wrench of +the body to save himself from falling. In vain. In another instant he +was struggling in the waves. In a moment more the pans might crush +him, or he might be so benumbed that he could make no further effort +to help himself.</p> + +<p>While the Doctor stood there in mental anguish because he could do +nothing to help his comrade, he saw Bill with a desperate effort throw +a burly leg over the edge of the pan and scramble out, seemingly none +the worse for the ducking.</p> + +<p>All Bill could do now was to stand on his pan and let the wind and the +sea take him where they would.</p> + +<p>Grenfell kept on shooting, but there was no response from the shore.</p> + +<p>Bill's pan crept nearer and nearer to the Doctor's—but not near +enough to let Bill get back.</p> + +<p>At last the shooting was answered.</p> + +<p>They saw the flash of an oar—always the first signal of rescue under +these conditions—and a boat hove in sight.</p> + +<p>The two men on the ice shouted excited <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>encouragement to each other at +the same instant.</p> + +<p>The rescuers were not less joyful than the rescued. Such events as +this have led some of the fishermen to believe that Grenfell leads a +charmed life, and that the winds and the seas are aware that he is +their master.</p> + +<p>He had now spent a precious month in trying to break the ice-blockade. +Since the ice had backed away a short distance from the coast, +Grenfell now thought he might use the mission steamer herself, the +brave <i>Strathcona</i>, to get round the northern end of the peninsula and +so follow his original plan of a journey down the west coast. Compared +with the <i>Strathcona</i>, the mail steamer was palatial luxury.</p> + +<p>All went well enough till they came to the Straits. There it was the +old story. The ice was piled mountainously, in a barricade that meant +a long siege to penetrate. What was still worse, it closed in suddenly +about the ship, just as it has so often embraced Arctic explorers. The +<i>Strathcona</i> might not be able to rid herself of the encumbrance for +many days, perhaps for several weeks.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>One way was left—to walk. The distance was ninety miles—and what +miles they were!</p> + +<p>Like the snail, he had to carry all his baggage on his back. It +included a frying-pan, blankets, food, and a suit of clothes fit to +wear at the meeting of the board of directors,—a sufficient burden +for two human shoulder-blades. Mrs. Grenfell remained aboard the +<i>Strathcona</i>. It was to take her down the east coast to the railroad +at Lewisporte, when the ice released its hold on the ship. In time, if +all went well, she would join her husband in New York.</p> + +<p>It was a hard and lonely journey for Grenfell for the next three days. +Thirty miles a day was as much as he could do over a beach piled high +with gnarled, weather-worn rocks and ice carved by the sea into +strange forms, and flung into rough sugar-bowl heaps. When night came, +for want of soft snow-banks into which he might dig for a snug bed, he +scraped himself a place in the wet sand and built a fire and dried his +clothes to the tune of a raving wind. He knew the mail boat was +expected at any time at Flower's Cove, and if he missed it he would +have to wait a fortnight, at least, for its next southward journey. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>In spite of the discomfort of sleeping on the ground, and the fear +that he might reach the Cove just too late to catch the steamer, his +rest was sound and sweet, while it lasted. But he let himself have +very little of it, because of the need of forcing the pace, and we can +easily imagine that it was a man thoroughly ready for a night in bed +who rapped at Parson Richard's door at Flower Cove when the three +days' hike was over.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, Doctor!" Parson Richard's face was a warm and beaming +lamp of welcome. "Come right in! Why didn't you telegraph? You know +there's nobody I'd rather see than you.—Mary!" he called. "Get the +Doctor a cup of tea—and let him have a piece of that caribou steak +we've been keeping. It sure is good to see you, Doctor! Now we'll have +a fine chance to talk, when you're rested. The mail-boat won't be +along till to-morrow morning. There are so many things I want to tell +you about and ask your advice."</p> + +<p>Grenfell had tugged off his rubber boots and sat in a cushioned chair +with his feet luxuriously outstretched to the stove. Now that the hard +pull <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>afoot from cove to cove was over, it would be comparatively +luxurious travel the rest of the way. He could probably have the full +length of the table to sleep on, in the dining-saloon of the <i>Ethie</i> +when the dishes were cleared away. Since it was the beginning of the +season, and southward-bound travel was slack, he might even get a +berth to himself.</p> + +<p>But a frowsy-polled messenger just at that delicious moment of warmth +and reverie threw open the front door without the ceremony of +knocking, and a blast of wind swirled after him.</p> + +<p>Parson Richards in his thin, worn coat clasped himself like a cabman +and shivered. "Shut the door, Tom! What is it?"</p> + +<p>The pale and agitated messenger could hardly stammer out the words.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's Abe Gould, sir!"</p> + +<p>"What has Abe Gould done now?"</p> + +<p>"He's shot himself in the leg!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, is it as bad as all that?" asked the good man, his brow +furrowing with anxiety. "We must come right off and see what we can +do."</p> + +<p>"He's bleeding to death!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>Parson Richards turned to Grenfell. "Now you stay right here, Doctor!"</p> + +<p>The Doctor was already hauling on his wet, stiff boots.</p> + +<p>"No, no," protested Grenfell, as if somebody had suggested a joy-ride +and he didn't want to miss it. He turned to the boy. "Take me to him, +Tom. How far is it?"</p> + +<p>"Five miles, sir," said the trembling lad. "Oh, do come, please, sir, +and hurry up. He's bleeding to death."</p> + +<p>"Have you dogs?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Can you get any?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. All the good dogs is away."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll walk—or run," Grenfell smiled.</p> + +<p>He left the tea with the spoon in it, and did not even stop to thrust +a bit of bread into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" he said, as they started the jog-trot from the +door.</p> + +<p>"He was cleanin' a gun, sir, and it went off and shot him in the leg."</p> + +<p>Not much more was said. Man and boy needed all the breath they had for +that five-mile <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>marathon over rocks and stumps and snow in the biting +wind. Grenfell remembered the cross-country runs of the "harriers" at +Oxford. Then, it was smooth going through fields and meadows and down +the winding rural lanes. Then, he ran after nights of comfortable +sleep, and with good fuel for the human machine. Now he had to make +speed when he was hungry and after three broken nights of lying on +damp sand. What a difference!</p> + +<p>But the old zest of life and youth came flooding back to him—the +thought of the good he could do was a spur to keep him going at top +speed. Of old he ran for a ribbon, a medal or a cup. Now he was +running for a life. So often his errands, afoot or behind the dogs, +had that guerdon before them—and what prize of victory was more +valuable than that?</p> + +<p>The boy had hard work keeping up with the man—the man who always had +kept himself in the pink of condition, whose frame never failed to +serve him when he called on it for a sudden, extra strain.</p> + +<p>Grenfell remembered the war service of the young fellow he ran to +help. Abe Gould was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>but twenty. As a member of the First Regiment of +Newfoundland, 5,000 young men picked from the 250,000 islanders, he +had given four years of his life to the world war, in France and +Flanders. Then he had come home, and with his honors, and the tales of +his bravery on all tongues and in all ears, he had gone back quietly +to scraping the fish and mending the nets as though he never knew +another life or another country.</p> + +<p>As they ran on with hearts pounding, the one big question that kept +asking itself in the Doctor's mind was, "Am I too late?" He forgot +everything else—the battle with the ice-pack, the possible fate of +the <i>Strathcona</i>, the weary trudging round the northern promontory. +Nothing mattered except the brave young soldier, whose blood was +ebbing away clock-tick by clock-tick, as they hastened to his side. +That five miles seemed longer than the ninety miles he had covered in +the three preceding days.</p> + +<p>He was no longer stiff and lame—the need of him seemed to have put +wings on his heels as if he were Mercury.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>There was the little grey house at last. The panting boy at his side +gasped out, "My brother's there!"</p> + +<p>Grenfell fairly fell against the door. It was flung open instantly. +The room was crowded with people who sobbed and sniffled and wrung +their hands: and none could do anything to help.</p> + +<p>"The Doctor!" they cried. It was almost as if Christ Himself had come.</p> + +<p>The young soldier lay on a hard table, flat on his back. Imagine his +conscious agony. What was left of his leg had been laid on a feather +pillow and to stop the flow of blood his foot was strung up to the +ceiling. Blood and salt water soaked his garments and dripped to the +floor, as if he were a slab of seal-meat.</p> + +<p>Men and women alike were weeping, and telling each other how fond they +were of Abe, and what a good, brave lad he was, and how they would +hate to lose him now. Trouble in this part of the world makes people +singularly neighborly, and often in their need they are as children. +They think that any stranger from outside, with better clothes than +they wear, must know enough to doctor them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>Most of the people had to be sent from the room, for the sake of air +and space and the poor boy's comfort. Dr. Grenfell had no instruments +for an operation. He had no medicines. But messengers went hither and +yon, and picked up things he had left in the neighborhood for use in +such a crisis. They came back with a knife or two, rusty and in need +of sharpening, a precious thimbleful of ether, shreds of silk to tie +the arteries, a small supply of opium.</p> + +<p>By the time they came back from their house-to-house search, Dr. +Grenfell had wound a towel round the patient's thigh, and twisted it +with a stick in a "tourniquet" that stopped the deadly ebbing of the +blood.</p> + +<p>There wasn't ether enough, but what he had was used. A man stood on +each side and held the patient to the table. Grenfell had to pick out +piece after piece of bone from the shattered leg with his fingers. It +didn't help at all when one of his helpers fainted at the gory sight, +and fell across the body of the wounded man. The leg had to be cut +off, eventually, but Abe's life was saved. During the night that +followed Grenfell's ministration, the Doctor sat by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>table-bed, +feeding the patient a sleeping-draught of opium now and then, to dull +the awful agony. Not a wink of sleep did the great physician get, the +long night through. But as he sat there, he was happy to think—that +he had come in time to save Abe Gould. This more than made up for the +fact that he was a month late for the meeting with those New York +gentlemen. And when he finally reached them and told them why he was +late—they forgave him.</p> + +<p>No wonder the fisher-folk of the Labrador swear by "the Doctor" and +turn a deaf ear and a curling lip of contempt toward any who dares to +talk against him. They have seen him on the firing-line of his work: +he is their friend: they know what he did for them and theirs, +and—men of few words as they are—they would in their turn do +anything for him.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical errors corrected in text:</p> +<br /> +Page 36: 'Ie means' replaced with 'It means'<br /> +Page 235: 'the next to be dropped' replaced with 'the nets to be dropped'<br /> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Grenfell: Knight-Errant of the North, by +Fullerton Waldo + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRENFELL: KNIGHT-ERRANT OF NORTH *** + +***** This file should be named 32052-h.htm or 32052-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/0/5/32052/ + +Produced by Jeannie Howse, Roger Frank and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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