As they approached Battle Harbor, Wilfred decided to make a grand entrance in the new boat. “Full speed ahead,” he ordered, once he thought they were clear of the rocks and reefs. They were just about to round the headland into Battle Harbor, the mission flags hoisted for the occasion flapping in the breeze, when a rumbling, grinding noise arose from the hull of the Sir Donald. The boat stopped abruptly and lurched to one side. It had run aground on a rock. The engine was put full astern, but the boat was stuck fast and began to be pounded by the sea. There was only one thing to do. A dinghy was lowered into the water, and Wilfred and Captain Harvey climbed aboard and rowed to shore. Once ashore they had to climb a rocky cliff to get to the community of Battle Harbor to seek help. Sheepishly Wilfred told everyone what had happened.
Baine Grieve, the merchant who had donated the building for the hospital at Battle Harbor, was visiting the community, and he raised steam in his launch and went out to pull the Sir Donald free of the rocks and into port.
The Sir Donald had been badly damaged. Her sternpost had been wrenched to one side, bashing in her rudder, and her propeller shaft had snapped and the propeller lost at sea. Wilfred was guilt-ridden as he inspected the damage that his enthusiasm to make a grand entrance had caused. It was obvious that the Sir Donald would be out of commission for quite some time.
Fortunately the Albert was still at anchor in the harbor, awaiting Wilfred’s arrival. It was past time for Captain Trezisse to be heading back to England, but he agreed to tow the Sir Donald back to St. John’s, where repairs could be made to her.
With the Albert needed back in England, the Sir Donald damaged, and the Princess May still months away from being fully overhauled, Wilfred had only the sailing boat the Euralia MacKinnon to use. Disappointed as he was at what had happened, he decided to make the most of what he had. That summer the Euralia MacKinnon plied the waters up and down the Labrador coast. Several Liveyeres took turns completing the two-man crew, and Wilfred enjoyed wonderful sailing conditions. It reminded him of the times he and Algernon had gone out in the Reptile on the estuary of the River Dee. The fact that he could take few supplies with him on the Euralia MacKinnon allowed Wilfred to get closer to the coastal people. After he had tended to their medical needs and held a simple church service, the local people invited him back to their homes for a meal and a good night’s rest.
Wilfred visited both of the hospitals and was amazed at what the doctors and nurses had achieved. He was especially gratified to see the Indian Harbor Hospital up and running. Between them, the two hospitals had treated 1,306 patients that summer.
As winter approached, Fred Willway volunteered to stay on at Battle Harbor. He planned to take a dog team and komatik (sled) and visit homes along the coast when the sea froze over.
As he had done the summer before, Wilfred made notes on the people and places he visited. One particular incident that haunted his thoughts occurred when he sailed into a lonely inlet. A single hut stood by the shore, and inside Wilfred found a woman and two teenage children. Outside were three freshly dug graves. It did not take Wilfred long to learn that the husband, who had not been able to catch many fish during the summer months, had sent his wife and two oldest children down to the creek to trap fish. While they were away, he had killed himself and the two youngest children.
Wilfred gave what supplies he had to the grieving woman and her two surviving children and promised to call on them in the spring to see if they wanted to remain at the inlet or relocate to St. John’s. Either way he knew their lives would be difficult. They had no one to help them, even if they went to St. John’s, and the mother could not read or write. All Wilfred could do was gather the family together and pray that God would protect them until they met again.
Wilfred traveled down the Labrador coast barely ahead of the ice. As usual he was the last boat headed south. He stopped at Square Island Harbor, where twelve families lived and where things were in a desperate state. The traders who normally stopped in to exchange flour, butter, and molasses for salted fish and sealskins had all sailed right past the bay without stopping. With eight long months of winter ahead, the families were already running out of supplies.
On a previous visit to this community, Wilfred had met with a saintly old fisherman whom everyone called Uncle Jim. Now, as Uncle Jim described the situation to Wilfred, the two men knelt and prayed. Uncle Jim asked God to “open the windows of heaven and send them supplies.” Wilfred agreed with a hearty amen, and the two of them waited to see what would happen next.
Wilfred spent the night at Uncle Jim’s cabin, and the following morning he looked out the window to see a trading schooner at anchor! It was one of the vessels that had passed by several days before. The captain of the vessel explained that they had gotten caught in a storm and had been driven back all the way to Square Island Harbor. And now that he was there, he was happy to exchange the settlement’s stockpile of dried fish and skins for flour, salt pork, and tea.
Uncle Jim grinned as he knelt to thank God for saving them all from starvation. His simple faith brought tears to Wilfred’s eyes.
By October Wilfred was back in St. John’s, where he learned some shocking news. The banks of Newfoundland had failed! No one could say exactly why it had happened, but businesses were bankrupt, government officials had all quit, and there were riots in the streets. The governor had urgently sent a representative to London to plead for help for the colony. Wilfred hated to leave while everything was in such an upheaval, but he had promised to be back in England by Christmas. He could only pray that things would sort themselves out. In the meantime there was little hope of getting any more financial aid from the government and the people in St. John’s.
Chapter 9
Pomiuk
Wilfred arrived back in St. John’s in May 1895 after a successful winter in England. Although England had not offered to bail Newfoundland out of its financial troubles, many positive steps had been taken to put the colony on a better financial footing. Canadian banks had set up shop in the colony, and the colonial secretary had pledged his private fortune to save the Commercial Bank. All of this brought a new air of confidence about the place.
The Sir Donald and the Princess May had both been repaired and were ready for a summer of service. In addition, both hospitals were equipped, and large stores of drugs, instruments, clothing, and furniture were ready for use. Wilfred was sure it was going to be the mission’s best summer yet, and he was eager to take the Sir Donald and begin his own journey north.
At every stop along the way he found Liveyeres who were near starvation after a difficult winter. They cheered as the Sir Donald, her flags flying, steamed into their bays and harbors. Soon the caplin fish (smelts) arrived in hordes and piled themselves up on the beaches in their eagerness to spawn. This signaled the end of hunger for many families along the coast, and as the summer progressed, the fishing was the best in years.
It was September when Wilfred peered across the bow of the Sir Donald as she plowed through rough water toward the most northern point of his voyage, Nachvak Inlet. An Eskimo village was located here, along with an outpost of the Hudson Bay Company. Wilfred had heard that a man named George Ford ran the outpost, buying fox, mink, and caribou furs from the Eskimos.
It was midday before Wilfred spotted the narrow gap in the mountainous, rocky coastline that was the entrance to the inlet. Happily he turned the wheel and headed into the entrance. Once he had maneuvered inside the gap, a mile-wide fjord opened out. The water in the fjord was calm and clear, and Wilfred marveled at the four-thousand-foot-high cliffs on either side that dwarfed his boat. About halfway up the fjord he could see a long jetty and headed toward it.
By the time the Sir Donald pulled alongside the jetty, a group of about seventy Eskimos had gathered to meet Wilfred. Although he had not been this far north before, everyone seemed to know who he was and why he had come.
Within minutes of Wilfred’s tying up the Sir Donald, the sick and injured were lined up for Wilfred to treat. George Ford was there, too, working alongside Wilfred, explaining the various symptoms to him and translating Wilfred’s diagnoses and treatment back to the patients in their language. An hour or so later, when everyone had been seen to, Wilfred asked George if he could hold a church service. George agreed and offered his trading post as a place to do so. Once again he acted as interpreter.
The Eskimos, many of whom had been converted to Christianity through contact with the Moravian missionaries, were glad to hear a sermon. They were especially thrilled when Wilfred brought out his “magic lantern” and showed them slides depicting scenes from Bible times. They laughed at the camels and asked if they were real. The service ended with several rounds of rousing hymns, which everyone joined in singing with great enthusiasm.
By then it was dinnertime, and George invited Wilfred and the crew to eat with him and spend the night at the outpost. After they had dined on caribou steaks and dandelion leaves, which Wilfred had brought with him, Wilfred and George settled beside the iron stove for a long chat. Wilfred wanted to know about any other Eskimos George knew of who had medical needs, and George wanted the latest news from “down south.”
Around midnight the conversation died down, and suddenly George’s face lit up. “Ah, I almost forgot. I have a strange tale to tell you, Doctor.”
Wilfred sat up a little straighter. “I like strange tales,” he replied, “and there certainly are plenty to be told along this coast. Talk on.”
George stood up and went to a desk, pulled out two envelopes, and sat down again. “As you can see, I have two letters here. The first one is from the Hudson Bay Company.” He leaned over and showed the logo on the top of the letter to Wilfred. “The letter came by mail boat a month ago, and it asks me to do what I can to find an Eskimo boy named Pomiuk. If I find him, I am to read this second letter to him.”
“Why?” Wilfred asked. “Who is Pomiuk?”
“A boy with a strange past,” George replied. “His father was killed when he was very young, and his mother was taken in by another man, named Kupah. It seems that Kupah never had much time for the lad, who was left more or less to do as he pleased. Five years ago, when Pomiuk was eight years old, a white man representing the World’s Fair in Chicago came to Nachvak Inlet. He brought an interpreter with him and told the locals about the great wealth that they could gain if they went back to America with him. Most of the Eskimos were too cautious to go that far from home and place their welfare in the hands of a stranger, but Kupah was greedy, and he signed both himself and Pomiuk up for the journey. The two of them ended up being part of a live exhibit of ‘Eskimo Land’ at the World’s Fair.”
Wilfred whistled. “Can you image how different that must have been for them. The food, the buildings, the climate, the huge throngs of people.”
“Yes, and a lot of them wanted to prod and poke the Eskimos or watch them do tricks. Eight-year-old Pomiuk was a favorite of the crowd, especially since he could handle a dog whip so well. The people would throw coins onto a bench, and Pomiuk would pick them up with a lash of the whip.” George leaned forward, opened the door of the potbelly stove, and poked the fire. “Anyway, all seemed to be going well until Pomiuk fell off a ladder and broke his thigh. Then he was useless to the exhibit, and all he could do was sit outside the Eskimo Land exhibit and beg. That is how he met the Reverend Charles Carpenter. In his younger days, Reverend Carpenter had been a missionary on the south coast of Labrador. Although he did not speak Pomiuk’s language, the two became good friends. The minister would come every day to bring Pomiuk food and keep him company. However, Reverend Carpenter was only visiting the World’s Fair in Chicago, and eventually he had to return home to Boston. When he left, he gave Pomiuk a photo of himself and a letter to remember him by. When the fair ended, the Eskimos were no longer needed, and they were escorted as far as St. John’s and told to make their own way home from there.”
