Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

As to launching our canoes again, that was entirely out of the question. If we would reach Churchill at all it must be by land.

As most of us were unable to walk, the only course open appeared to be to send on some of the stronger men to, if possible, reach the fort and bring back a relief party. This plan was proposed, and two of the western men, “Jim” and John, volunteered to undertake the walk. We thought the distance could not be more than fifty miles, and it might be considerably less. On the morning of the 16th the two men set out on their journey, while those of us remaining proceeded to move our tents back from the shore about two miles to the nearest woods, where we might make ourselves more comfortable, to await the success or failure of the relief party.

A sheltered spot was selected for camp, in a thick grove of spruce trees, and after clearing away about two feet of snow which covered the ground, tents were pitched, then well carpeted with spruce boughs, and a big camp-fire made. This was indeed a happy change from lying in canoes in the ice-pack. Clothing and blankets were now dried, and with the seal meat, and some ptarmigan which we shot in the grove, we were soon comparatively comfortable, with the exception perhaps of poor Michel, who suffered much from his frozen feet.

The reviving effect of the camp-fire upon our numb and half-frozen bodies was soon felt, though with the exception of François, the western half-breed, all of us at the camp were still very weak. Our veteran Pierre, who had done such good service with the paddle, now staggered in his walk, and as we were moving the tents from the shore back to the woods, he fell from sheer exhaustion and had difficulty in regaining his feet. Now in camp, however, and with meat enough to last us for a day or two, we were in a position to take a rest from our labors. Poor Michel’s feet were in a bad state, and having no proper means of treating them, they caused us much anxiety. His brother Louis was also in a wretched condition from the effects of severe dysentery caused by exposure and starvation, and was unable to walk.

On the morning of the 17th, feeling somewhat revived after a long night’s rest, I undertook to go hunting ptarmigan, which we were glad to find were plentiful in the woods about us. Had it not been for the fact that our ammunition was almost exhausted, the occurrence of these birds in abundance would have afforded us greater consolation, but being, as we were, reduced to a dozen or two charges, the opportunity for living on feathered game seemed limited to a short period. We were hoping that Jim and John might be successful in reaching Churchill. Before I had walked a hundred yards from camp, I was forced to realize how weak I had become, and after making a circuit of about half a mile and shooting only two or three birds, I was scarcely able to crawl back to the tent. On my return, François, taking the shot-gun, went out and returned in the evening with a fine bag of game.

On waking the next morning, my brother amused us by relating an extraordinary dream, in which he imagined he was luxuriating in good things, and particularly sweet currant cakes, for which he was exhibiting a wonderful capacity. But alas! with the visions of the night the cakes had vanished, and for breakfast he was forced to be content with unseasoned boiled ptarmigan.

At about one o’clock in the day, as we were seated within the tent partaking of our second meal, we were suddenly startled by hearing the exclamation, “Hullo, Jim!” The eagerness with which we scrambled over dinner and dishes to the tent-door can better be imagined than described, and on looking out, sure enough there was Jim returning. Was he alone? No, thank the Lord! Behind him, a moment later, emerged from the woods a number of men, followed by teams of dogs and sleds. One after the other there came scampering along no less than four teams, hauling long empty sleds capable of furnishing accommodation for our whole outfit.

After a hard two days’ tramp, Jim and John had reached the Fort, where they had found kind friends ready to send us prompt assistance. Dog teams had been placed at their disposal, provisions supplied, and early on the morning of the same day on which they had found us, the train had set out for our relief. With light sleds they had travelled at a rapid pace over the thirty miles of snowy plains which separated us from Churchill. Another day of good travel in the canoes would have taken us in, had this been afforded us.

As the relief party drew up at our camp, Jim advanced and handed letters to my brother and myself expressing kind wishes and sympathy from Mr. and Mrs. Lofthouse, the Church of England missionary and his wife at the Fort, whose friendship I had the privilege of making on two former visits to Churchill. Along with the letters was handed a box, which when opened was found to contain the very good things of my brother’s dream, even to the sweet currant cakes. Staple provisions were also produced, and it is scarcely necessary to say that they were joyfully welcomed. It would be impossible to describe our feelings upon this occasion, the termination of so many hardships and sufferings. During the afternoon preparations were made for the journey to the Fort on the following day. The canoes were hauled up from the shore, where we had been obliged to leave them, and loaded upon two of the dog-sleds. Camp outfit and provisions were loaded upon the others, and as far as possible everything was put in readiness for an early start in the morning.

A change in the weather was already forecast, the wind shifting around to the south, and towards evening it became decidedly milder. During the night a rain set in, and between it and the warm wind a wonderful change was wrought before dawn. It began to look very much as if the fates were against us, and that now with the sleds and dog-teams we should have no snow to travel on. But before daylight camp was astir, and finding that enough yet remained, breakfast was partaken of by the light of the camp-fire and at the first streaks of dawn the journey on sleds to Churchill was begun.