CHAPTER IV
A Burial in the Wilderness : From Grand Rapids to Fort McMurray : Tar Sands.
On Wednesday, June 20, about 9.30 P.M., as we were sitting around a smouldering fire on the bank close to where the steamer lay, and watching the day darkening into night, a gun shot was heard at the Rapids, which meant the return from Fort McMurray of some of the river men, and we were soon possessed of the very welcome news that the steamer Grahame, which plied between McMurray and Smith’s Landing on the Slave River, was again in commission for the season, and would be waiting for us at McMurray as soon as we could get there. This news was very welcome, for it was the first tidings we had received regarding this boat. What if she had been burnt or had met some serious accident since she was last heard from the season before? I do not know whether any of the other passengers had feared the possibility of such a report, but now with only ninety miles in barges between us and McMurray, when we would be below the rapids and have smooth sailing, we all felt like rejoicing. In a few minutes, however, it was suddenly noticed that every voice on the steamer was hushed, and a moment later one of the crew came over the gang plank and whispered something to a man on the shore. We soon learned that the angel of death had visited the Midnight Sun and claimed as his victim Herbert Bray, our cook. We had just before listened to uncharitable words from one of the men to the effect that his illness was only feigned; that the night before he had seen him walking the deck when all were supposed to be asleep. While the poor fellow’s condition was too serious to permit us to believe that he was only acting a part, we rather hoped that this story might be true, and it may have been that in his delirious state he had wandered during the night from his room, for he had no nurse to watch over him. He was a young Englishman of good appearance, who had been a few years out, living in the neighbourhood of Edmonton. Like many others in the country he had by camp experience learnt something of the culinary art, and had engaged in this capacity with the Company. Only a few days after leaving “The Landing” he was taken ill. Many were the remedies proposed and a number tried, but all to no effect. It was probably a case of appendicitis, which even in expert hands often proves fatal, but it caused us to realise our situation here in the wilderness where no medical attendance was obtainable.
FUNERAL OF HERBERT BRAY ON THE ATHABASKA RIVER
The following day a rough coffin was made and we buried him on the bank of the river. I carved his name and date of death on a small tree near by and Mr. Stefansson made a lobstick from a spruce growing higher up the bank. As the grave was being closed over him, one could not but think of his relatives in the old country, who probably at that moment were going through their ordinary round of daily duty, while this wanderer, impelled by the spirit of adventure, was destined to make his long sleep in this sylvan solitude.
At eight o’clock in the evening of the 21st, we all very gladly took leave of the Midnight Sun. We had been nearly two weeks on board and had made but 160 miles. From this point to Fort McMurray the river is very rough and it was necessary to make the passage in scows. Two days were spent in getting the supplies over the Rapids, during which time a few of the men were out hunting and succeeded in killing a very large moose, the fresh meat of which was much relished, since it was the first we had tasted since leaving “The Landing.”
Specimens of petrified wood are found along the banks in the neighbourhood of Grand Rapids. Here, too, are seen protruding from the high sandstone banks and lying along the beach, stones which are accretions of the same formation, but apparently of a harder texture but quite separated from the stratified rock. They are of a perfectly spherical shape and vary in size from two to ten feet in diameter, and when viewed from the river, one might fancy they were huge bells that had been shot into the banks by some gigantic mortar.
STONES ON THE ATHABASKA RIVER