Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

Mac. and I quickly took our position in the bow and opened hostilities, but on account of the roughness of the sea and the tossing of the boat the shots were ineffective, and so far as the old bear was concerned an opportunity was not afforded for repeating them. Quick as a flash she disappeared, leaving her fleecy cub paddling about on the surface.

Though the engine of our boat had been stopped, the momentum carried us on rapidly past the little swimmer, which was about the size of a half-grown sheep. As we passed, Con. seized master bruin and endeavored to land him on board, but in this he, perhaps fortunately, failed, and was prevented from pursuing his ambition by the sudden appearance from the deep of the enraged mother, who, with a roar, made a plunge for the stern of the boat, where the doctor was seated, and seized the gunwale in what were afterwards described as her “devilish-looking jaws.”

To say that this sudden turn of events was a surprise to us all but feebly describes the expressions depicted upon the faces of our party. With the other occupants and the engines between us and the bear, Mac. and I were unable to fire a shot. Con. came to the rescue, and with several desperate thrusts of the iron-pointed gaff he persuaded the bear to release her hold, when with the engine again running, a separation was effected, but not before we had learned an interesting lesson regarding the habits of the polar bear.

As a matter of discretion, the lesson of experience, the boat was now kept at a safe distance from the bears. Several shots were fired, one or two slight wounds being inflicted on the mother, but as fast as the little one could travel, though no faster, they maintained a steady course for the nearest point of land. Apparently nothing would induce the mother bear to forsake her little one, and though wounded herself, her whole anxiety seemed to be for her offspring. Sometimes she would swim a short distance in advance, but only to return in a moment, as if to urge on the little creature to greater exertion.

The shore was soon gained by the swimmers, who then beat a rapid retreat up the rocky cliffs and disappeared among the distant hills. As they fled, the exhibition of motherly affection shown by the old bear was very remarkable and pleasing. She would never allow the cub to be separated more than a few feet from her, and would govern her own pace to suit that of her “bairn.”

As the bears made good their escape, self-reproach and disappointment filled our souls, and more than one emphasized denunciation was heaped upon our commander’s head because we had been prevented from having our rifles with us.

After a few moments of bitter reflection as to what “might have been,” our thoughts reverted to surveying and the obtaining of fresh water, but before thought could be followed by action, strange to say, two other large bears were sighted ahead. They were near the shore, and not very far from the foot of the falls for which we had been steering.

A brief consultation was held, and it was decided to advance cautiously upon the game. Mac. with his rifle and but a half-dozen remaining cartridges, again took his position in the bow of the boat, but prompted by recent experience I remained at the stern with my revolver, while Con. stood amidships armed with the gaff. The bears, observing us, landed upon a high point of broken cliffs close by, and as they did so, Mac. gave them a couple of slugs, which evidently took effect, but caused them no particular inconvenience. A moment later they were lost to sight among the rocks. Resolved upon preventing their escape if we possibly could, Mac. and Con.—the latter armed with the axe—were allowed to go ashore and head off the retreat, while we in the boat skirted along the shore where the bears might be most likely to take to the water. Our land party had no sooner reached the summit of the first ridge of rock than “bang” went Mac.’s rifle, and a moment later, as he crammed in another cartridge, there appeared over the ridge, not more than five yards from his feet, the blood-bespattered heads of the two furies.

It was a critical moment for our two sportsmen, and one of breathless suspense for those of us who looked on. Con. stood with uplifted axe ready to strike as Mac., again levelling, fired into the face of the foremost bear, now almost at his feet, and sent a slug boring through his head. To ordinary bears this would have been received as sufficient intimation to drop dead, but it seemed only to “rattle” this polar, so that instead of proceeding to demolish Mac. and Con., he plunged over the steep cliff into the sea and there terminated his career.

The other bear, seeing the fate of his comrade, retreated and took to the water, and as he did so, leaving a trail of blood upon the rocks, Mac. sent his last slug after him. He and Con. then, descending to the shore, came on board, and with us gave chase to the wounded animal, who was swimming off at a rapid pace. Our launch, however, soon overtook him, and as we passed I gave him a volley from my revolver, which appeared to have little more effect than to increase his rage.