Okak, two days’ travel south of Hebron, with a population of three hundred and twenty-nine, is the largest Eskimo village in Labrador and an important station of the Moravian missionaries. Besides the chapel, living apartments and store of the mission a neat, well-organized little hospital has just been opened by them and placed in charge of Dr. S. Hutton, an English physician. Young, capable and with every prospect of success at home, he and his charming wife have resigned all to come to the dreary Labrador and give their lives and efforts to the uplifting of this bit of benighted humanity.
We were entertained by the doctor and Mrs. Hutton and found them most delightful people. The only other member of the hospital corps was Miss S. Francis, a young woman who has prepared herself as a trained nurse to give her life to the service. I had an opportunity to visit with Dr. Hutton several of the Eskimo dwellings, and was struck by their cleanliness and the great advance toward civilization these people have made over their northern kinsmen. We had now reached a section where timber grows, and some of the houses were quite pretentious for the frontier—well furnished, of two or three rooms, and far superior to many of the homes of the outer coast breeds to the south. This, of course, is the visible result of the century of Moravian labors. Here I engaged, with the aid of the missionaries, Paulus Avalar and Boas Anton with twelve dogs to go with us to Nain, and after one day at Okak our march was resumed.
It is a hundred miles from Okak to Nain and on the way the Kiglapait Mountain must be crossed, as the Atlantic ice outside is liable to be shattered at any time should an easterly gale blow, and there is no possible retreat and no opportunity to escape should one be caught upon it at such a time, as perpendicular cliffs rise sheer from the sea ice here.
We had not reached the summit of the Kiglapait when night drove us into camp in a snow igloo. The Eskimos here are losing the art of snow-house building, and this one was very poorly constructed, and, with a temperature of thirty or forty degrees below zero, very cold and uncomfortable.
When we turned into our sleeping bags Paulus, who could talk a few words of English, remarked to me: “Clouds say big snow maybe. Here very bad. No dog feed. We go early,” and pointing to my watch face indicated that we should start at midnight. At eleven o’clock I heard him and Boas get up and go out. Half an hour later they came back with a kettle of hot tea and we had breakfast. Then the two Eskimos, by candlelight read aloud in their language a form of worship and sang a hymn. All along the coast between Hebron and Makkovik I found morning and evening worship and grace before and after meals a regular institution with the Eskimos, whose religious training is carefully looked after by the Moravians.
By midnight our komatik was packed. “Ooisht! ooisht!” started the dogs forward as the first feathery flakes of the threatened storm fell lazily down. Not a breath of wind was stirring and no sound broke the ominous silence of the night save the crunch of our feet on the snow and the voice of the driver urging on the dogs.
Boas went ahead, leading the team on the trail. Presently he halted and shouted back that he could not make out the landmarks in the now thickening snow. Then we circled about until an old track was found and went on again. Time and again this maneuver was repeated. The snow now began to fall heavily and the wind rose.
No further sign of the track could be discovered and short halts were made while Paulus examined my compass to get his bearings.
Finally the summit of the Kiglapait was reached, and the descent was more rapid. At one place on a sharp down grade the dogs started on a run and we jumped upon the komatik to ride. Moving at a rapid pace the team, dimly visible ahead, suddenly disappeared. Paulus rolled off the komatik to avoid going over the ledge ahead, but the rest of us had no time to jump, and a moment later the bottom fell out of our track and we felt ourselves dropping through space. It was a fall of only fifteen feet, but in the night it seemed a hundred. Fortunately we landed on soft snow and no harm was done, but we had a good shaking up.
The storm grew in force with the coming of daylight. Forging on through the driving snow we reached the ocean ice early in the forenoon and at four o’clock in the afternoon the shelter of an Eskimo hut.