The Eskimo pilots of the Pelican were more venturesome than their friends at George River. They had a small boat belonging to the Hudson’s Bay Company, and in it were going to attempt to reach Fort Chimo. Against his advice I had Ford arrange with them to permit Easton and me to accompany them. It was a most fortunate circumstance, I thought, that this opportunity was opened to us.
Accordingly the letters for Captain Blanford were written, sufficient provisions, consisting of corn meal, flour, hard-tack, pork, and tea to last Easton and me ten days, were packed, and our luggage was taken on board the Pelican on Saturday afternoon, where we were to spend the night as Mr. McKenzie’s and Captain Lovegrow’s guests.
Mr. McKenzie, before going to Montreal, had lived nearly a quarter of a century as Factor at Fort Chimo, and, thoroughly familiar with the conditions of the country and the season, joined Ford in advising us strongly against our undertaking, owing to the unusual hazard attached to it, and the probability of getting caught in the ice and wrecked. But we were used to hardship, and believed that if the Eskimos were willing to attempt the journey we could get through with them some way, and I saw no reason why I should change my plans.
Low-hanging clouds, flying snowflakes and a rising northeast wind threatened a heavy storm on Sunday morning, October twenty-second, when the Pelican weighed anchor at ten o’clock, with us on board and the small boat, the Explorer, that was to carry us westward in tow, and steamed down the George River, at whose mouth, twenty miles below, we were to leave her, to meet new and unexpected dangers and hardships.
At the Post the river is a mile and a half in width. About eight miles farther down its banks close in and “the Narrows” occur, and then it widens again. There is very little growth of any kind below the Narrows. The rocks are polished smooth and bare as they rise from the water’s edge, and it is as desolate and barren a land as one’s imagination could picture, but withal possesses a rugged grand beauty in its grim austerity that is impressive.
About three or four miles above the open bay the Pelican’s engines ceased to throb and the Explorer was hauled alongside. Everything but the provisions for the Eskimo crew was already aboard. We said a hurried adieu and, watching our chances as the boat rose and fell on the swell, dropped one by one into the little craft. A bag of ship’s biscuit, the provisions of our Eskimos, was thrown after us. Most of them went into the sea and were lost, and we needed them sadly later. I thought we should swamp as each sea hit us before we could get away, and when we were finally off the boat was half full of water.
The Eskimos hoisted a sail and turned to the west bank of the river, for it was too rough outside to risk ourselves there in the little Explorer. The pulse of the big ship began to beat and slowly she steamed out into the open and left us to the mercies of the unfeeling rocks of Ungava.
CHAPTER XVI
CAUGHT BY THE ARCTIC ICE