The Ice Pack from the Crow's Nest
If the management had complied with the demands of the strikers the report would have circulated through Norway that the Arctic Coal Company was an easy mark, and the mine would have become the rendezvous for all the labour agitators and riff-raff miners in the country. The day after the departure of the strikers Turner sent a wireless message to the Tromso office advising the Norwegian in charge of the strike and informing him that the whole crew was on its way to Norway to be paid off. Turner anticipated that the advent of this gang might cause a disturbance in Tromso, and that they might raid the company's office. He therefore made arrangements with the government to close the samlag, or federal liquor house, and to have the militia in readiness for trouble. He cabled a list of the names of the men who owed the company money for store purchases with instructions to attach their personal possessions and place them under arrest.
The Norwegian in charge of the Tromso office had a difficult situation to handle. However, he carried out Turner's instructions to the letter. The two ships with the strikers arrived in Tromso; twenty of the men were immediately arrested; the militia was on hand to maintain order and the samlag was closed and there was no booze.
Two Norwegian clerks were despatched to Norway to go into the country villages and engage another crew of miners. In two weeks a new set of men began to arrive at the mine, and at the end of a month a complete force was on hand and the work was proceeding as though nothing had happened.
The company's little store occasionally had distinguished customers. I found the Norwegian clerk selling a large consignment of goods one afternoon to two Englishmen. They engaged me in conversation and asked me many questions about the mine and the camp. They were curious to know what brought me to this far-away land, and our talk naturally drifted around to my world trip. They became interested at once.
They were out on a hunting expedition in the vicinity of Spitzbergen. One of the blades of the propeller of their steam yacht had been broken on a piece of float ice and they had come into Advent Bay to get it repaired at the company's machine shop. I invited them to dinner at the staff house. They declined, as the repairs to their boat were nearly complete and they wanted to get under way as soon as possible. They valued my invitation, and as they took their leave asked me to be their guest in England on my return trip to America. They presented me with their cards. "Sir Philip L. Brocklehurst, Swythamley Park, Macclesfield, The Bath Club," was the inscription on one and Sir Something Mitford on the other. I was mingling with two of England's noblemen, young fellows who had acquired their titles by inheritance. The rest of my stay on the island I was known as the "King."
I had now been with the Arctic Coal Company four months and had four hundred dollars saved. I hoped to meet my father in Toronto, Canada, in a few weeks and go with him to California. One morning about four o'clock I boarded one of the company's coal freighters and started for Norway.