Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

Every man was armed with an oar, a pole or an axe, and all of these were vigorously applied in forcing our way through the ice and the current. For a time we made fair progress, but before long were caught in the grip of the ice-pack and hurried down with the stream toward the sea.

We pushed and we pulled, we pounded and hacked, and at length got into a channel of open water. Again we were beset, but again got free, and so after much exertion we crossed the channel and landed upon the stationary ice. We had taken this for shore-ice, but were sorely disappointed to find it was only a jam in the middle of the channel.

What was now to be done? It was impossible to tow the boat around the upper end of the jam; and to allow it to drift down past the lower end would mean that we would be carried with the current out to sea and be irrevocably lost.

After carefully considering the situation, we concluded to portage across the island of ice and launch on the other side. Accordingly the boat was unloaded and piece by piece everything was carried safely across, but when we attempted to portage the boat it and we continually broke through the surface. We were therefore obliged to cut a channel right through the island, the full width of the boat. After much labor this was accomplished, the boat hauled through, reloaded, and again pushed out into the flowing pack, which carried us, in spite of all our endeavors, far down toward the mouth of the river.

At length we had succeeded in getting within thirty feet of the solid south-shore ice, but even then, when the shore seemed almost within reach, we were nipped in the floe and again carried helplessly downward, until it seemed as if, after all, we were going to be carried out to sea.

We used every effort to free the boat, but all of no avail. At last, however, civil war among the floes caused a split and brought deliverance. A few rapid strokes and our old craft bumped against the solid ice.

The bowman, François, quick as a flash, sprang out with the end of the tow-line, while the rushing ice again caught the boat and bore it downward. François held on to the tow-line with all his might, but the tug-of-war was going against him; he yielded, fell, and for a short distance was dragged over the broken hummocks of ice, but bracing his feet against one of these, he formed himself into a veritable ice-anchor, and with Herculean strength held us fast until others sprang out to his assistance.

All hands quickly disembarked, but as there was still between us and the shore a full mile of rough ice, liable to break adrift at any moment, no time was lost in exultation. The boat was unloaded, hauled up and the tramp commenced for the shore. After much exertion we reached land, and every man felt a thrill of exultation that the Nelson was at last to the north of us.

HUDSON’S BAY COMPANY’S STORE, YORK FACTORY.