Itfi 
 
 POMIUK 
 
 A WAIF OF LABRADOR 
 
 WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH 
 
Class _jF^iX^ 
 Book 
 
 Copyright N^ 
 
 T 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
POMIUK 
 
POMIUK 
 
 cA Waif of Labrador 
 
 A Brave Boy's Life for Brave Boys 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Ube pilgrim press 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO 
 
THE LfOfoXRY OF 
 
 CONGREaS, 
 
 Twu Cof>\xB Receiveb 
 
 DEC -i 1 
 
 • '7 3 (T ? ^ 
 
 '■•"5PY B, 
 
 Copyright, 1903 
 William Byron Forbush 
 
 ''t ''t"f5! 
 
 Press of J. J. Arakelyan 
 
 295 Congress St 
 
 Boston 
 

 xro doctor XKailfreb erenfell 
 
 A Christian Viking 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This story of kindness is all true. Some of my readers 
 saw the merry face of Pomiuk wTien he was in the United 
 States. Many more of them have seen and heard Doctor 
 Grenfell, who is quite as much the hero of the story. I 
 must acknowledge my deep obligations to the articles and 
 the "Pomiuk Scrap-book" of "Mr. Martin of The Congre- 
 gationalist," upon which the entire narrative rests, for my 
 place is simply that of clerk in the matter. It has been 
 a pleasure to be as near to it as that. 
 
 William Byron Forbush. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Pomiuk's Boyhood in the Wild North of Labrador. 13 
 
 PoMiUK AT Chicago 33 
 
 The Quest for Pomiuk 61 
 
 The Rescue 85 
 
 Pomiuk in Kind Hands 99 
 
 Gabriel 123 
 
 PoMiuic's Friends 129 
 
"A land forsaken and dead. 
 
 Where the ghostly icebergs go 
 
 And come with the ebb and flow 
 Of the waters of Bradore ! 
 ***** 
 
 'O winter land!' he said, 
 
 'Thy right to be I own; 
 
 'God leaves thee not alone. 
 
 And if thy fierce winds blow 
 
 Over drear wastes of rock and snow, 
 
 And at thy iron gates 
 
 The gliostly iceberg waits, 
 
 Thy homes and hearts are dear. 
 
 Thy sorrow o'er thy sacred dust 
 
 Is sanctified by hope and trust; 
 
 God's love and man's are here. 
 
 And love where'er it goes 
 
 Makes its own atmosphere; 
 
 Its flowers of Paradise 
 
 Take root in the eternal ice, 
 
 And bloom through Polar snows !' " 
 Whittier: The Rock-Tomb of Bradore. 
 
Ipomiuk's Bo^boob in the 
 
 Mflb mortb of 
 
 Xabrabor 
 
I 
 
 POMIUK'S BOYHOOD IN THE WILD 
 NORTH OF LABRADOR 
 
 Three or four chattering boys on an icy shore. 
 
 What huge, boat-Hke object are they dragging 
 behind them, as they move from the water up 
 the bank, while a curly-tailed dog sniffs at their 
 burden ? 
 
 It is a seal. 
 
 Look! What are these little men doing out 
 in the cold waters in those curious skin boats? 
 They are seal hunting. What skill it must take 
 to fling their light harpoons as they sit riding 
 over the waves! As soon as a seal is struck, 
 down it dives, taking the harpoon with it. But 
 the harpoon is fastened by twenty fathoms of 
 walrus hide to an inflated and air-tight sealskin, 
 and the hunter sees it as soon as it comes up. 
 A few strokes of the paddle and the boat, kayak 
 it is called, is alongside, the seal has been pierced 
 with a lance, it is lashed on the back of the 
 
i6 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood ly 
 
 little boat and is soon ready for the boys to drag 
 to their home. 
 
 Come with me to the homes of the boys and 
 you will soon see why Mr. Seal is wanted. Here 
 he hangs outside in the cold storage of zero 
 weather for food. His skin has been made into 
 clothing and into boats. His oil has been used 
 for barter or gives a feeble light and warmth 
 for the houses. The stretched skin of the bowel 
 is used instead of glass in the windows. Dog 
 food, dog harness and dog whips are all of seal. 
 The seal is the Eskimo's palm tree. 
 
 Pomiuk (Po-me-ook), the largest and merriest 
 of these boys, was the child of Kaiouchouak, 
 chief of North Labrador, and Anniortama, his 
 wife. Would you know where he lived better 
 if I tell you it was Tumelosoak, Tessyuyak, 
 Nachvak Bay? When I tell you things that he 
 and his chums were in the habit of doing, I am 
 telling you what all the Eskimo boys do in Lab- 
 rador. 
 
 We were visiting his home. It is a wood and 
 mud hut, called a "tilt," It has only one room 
 and the smoke from the open fire goes out 
 through a hole in the roof. The Eskimo used to 
 live in skin tents, but now when they wish to 
 
i8 Pomiuk 
 
 wander they usually build tilts wherever they hap- 
 pen to be or, in cold weather, snow huts or igloos 
 like their brothers of the Arctic Circle. Some- 
 times the poor Eskimo get out of fire and light 
 in their three months' winter night. They lie 
 dressed in buck-skin and sealskin huddled to- 
 gether for months in these huts, which they reach 
 through long snow tunnels, crawl out when 
 hungry to their supplies hidden beneath the snow, 
 eat four pounds of raw meat, and then creep back 
 to sleep, almost like black bears, 
 
 Labrador has been said to have "ten months 
 winter and two months mighty cold weather." 
 Those lines in the book of Job describe its awful 
 desolation of night, barrenness and winter better 
 than any other : 
 
 "A land of darkness, as darkness itself; 
 
 And of the shadow of death, without any order, 
 
 And where the light is as darkness." 
 
 Yet this is Erik the Norseman's "Vineland." It 
 has also been suggested that when God made 
 the world he dumped down what he had left as 
 Labrador. Yet the folks who live there like it 
 and the Eskimo are the most round-faced, smil- 
 ing people on earth. 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood ip 
 
 Pomiuk really had a happy boyhood. When 
 he was a baby he was carried naked in a bag 
 on his mother's back, where his black, twinkling 
 eyes saw everything that was going on and where 
 he was very cozy and warm, unless his mother 
 should chance to run or bend over suddenly, when 
 he would be flung forward into the snow, a very 
 much astonished papoose. 
 
 As soon as he was big enough to chew raw 
 walrus, his mother made him a little sealskin 
 like her own, for women wear trousers in Es- 
 kimo-land. Woolen was unknown and for a piece 
 of red calico Queen Anniortama would have bar- 
 tered her choicest furs. 
 
 When he was old enough Pomiuk's father be- 
 gan his education. Not by taking him to school. 
 A school had never been heard of near Nach- 
 vak Bay. So instead of using a slate pencil, 
 Pomiuk's first tool was a needle for repairing 
 nets, then an oar, then a hook and line, and lastly 
 the net itself, a boat and possibly a gun. Dur- 
 ing this time he was taught to manage dogs, to 
 steer komatiks or dog sleds, to set traps and 
 snares and to hunt for seals. He must learn, 
 said my friend Dr. Grenfell, who told me all 
 about him, to turn seal skins for snow rackets 
 
20 Pomiuk 
 
 and other purposes; to know the country for 
 traveling round, the ice and its various phases, 
 how to build a tilt for a night on the snow — 
 indeed, he must acquire every possible practical 
 piece of knowledge he could, for he had to be fish- 
 erman, farmer on a small scale, trapper, hunter, 
 house-builder, and often enough his own doc- 
 tor, and I almost said undertaker. 
 
 Then boys generally have the rabbit snares to 
 tend, clever contrivances made with a switch stick 
 and twine. A little fence of brush-wood is built 
 across a rabbit path on the snow, and a round 
 hole left for the rabbit to pass, around which the 
 twine is spread. A few tops of young birch are 
 strewn around as an additional attraction, for the 
 rabbits even on their hind legs cannot reach as 
 high as they would like. There is an enormous 
 difference in the success of various boys. A cute 
 boy will catch a dozen rabbits, while an unobserv- 
 ant duffer will be starving his family. In the long 
 evenings the boy will first fill needles with twine 
 for his father, then learn to net, and soon will 
 be a real help in repairing seal or salmon or cod 
 nets. 
 
 Before Christmas came the family were in their 
 winter house at the bottom of some cozy inlet by 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood 21 
 
 the sea, safely frozen in until June. And now 
 every morning before daylight Pomiuk went with 
 his father to the ice cove where a punt was kept, 
 and they rowed off to a headland to lie in wait for 
 eider-ducks or long-tailed ducks or auks, which 
 fly in great quantities in the fall of the year to 
 the coast-line. These he learned to pluck and 
 dress and store in snow barrels for use months 
 later ; or, perhaps, he went in the dawning to some 
 spot where his father had a "gaze" for wild geese 
 and took his dog, trained to jump out and run 
 back to attract the large companies within shot. 
 Meantime he learned to "cronk" as geese do. 
 Geese high in air half a mile away will wheel 
 into shot when skillfully called or "tolled." Mer- 
 gansers, great northern divers, also "toll" well. 
 The former will come to a handkerchief waved 
 on a stick, the latter to a kind of unearthly laugh. 
 Almost all animals can thus be "tolled." Deer 
 come to a kind of "snort." Many a seal has been 
 lured to its death by a kind of "pough" and the 
 legs of the hunter, who is lying on his face, waved 
 to and fro. Nothing will "toll" more readily 
 than a fox. A sharp lad, seeing a fox before the 
 fox sees him, is almost sure of getting him. Not 
 only have foxes run up and almost jumped on 
 
22 Pomiuk 
 
 a hunter hidden behind an ice pinnacle, but one 
 on an open marsh "tolled" right up to a kneel- 
 ing hunter, who remained motionless. They 
 come best to the shriek of a fighting crow or 
 raven, because they think they have found food, 
 and when near, to the squeak of a mouse. 
 Pomiuk soon learned that no animal will toll "up 
 wind," that almost all animals trust their noses 
 before their eyes. A seal seldom believes his eyes 
 at all, and a reindeer will run right over a man 
 standing up with his gun to leeward of him. 
 
 Soon he was allowed to accompany his father 
 on his fur path. The round of the traps, some- 
 times fifty miles in all, lasted a week and involved 
 inspecting and "re-tailing" perhaps a hundred 
 traps; here, under water, near a hole where 
 otters rise, not in too shallow water lest he strike 
 it with his breast instead of his paw and so es- 
 cape; there, for a fox on a felled tree-stem to 
 raise it above snow level, the trap being "tailed" 
 with gloved hands and the smell of man removed 
 by smoking it in a few burnt feathers. Or he 
 learned to build a "lucifer" house, as they call 
 the lynx, a neat little house with a bait within 
 and a trap biiried inside and outside the door; 
 or, perhaps, to make a deadfall for him or for 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood 2^ 
 
 a bear. Only last year a boy brought in a fine 
 yoiing bear he had caught in his arms after his 
 father had shot the old one. One lad who had 
 a young pet bear buried it in November in a 
 barrel. He dug it up twice in the winter, but 
 as it showed no sign of wishing to wake he let 
 it sleep until May. Then there were beaver 
 houses to find and those clever creatures to out- 
 wit ; no small task, I assure you. During a rough 
 week there is much to do, even at night. The 
 skins must be taken off, boards made and the 
 skins stretched and dried. How many American 
 boys could make their own "babbage" for snow- 
 shoes from a deer they have shot, turn their own 
 bows from a birch tree, sew their own boots 
 water-tight with sinew from the deer's back? 
 
 Doctor Grenfell told me he was wandering in 
 the Spanish Pyrenees three summers ago with 
 a half dozen English public school boys and three 
 university graduates. . They were anxious to 
 spend one night high in the mountains. No one 
 had an idea how to build a house to be comfortable 
 all night without a shred of bed clothing or one 
 single thing besides what he had on. Almost 
 any Eskimo could have shown them; and they 
 never enjoyed a night better in their lives than 
 
24 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
 when the Doctor had a bough "lean-to" erected, 
 a long cross fire built up, and a good soft bed 
 
 ESKIMO OR WOLF DOGS 
 
 of dried shrubs and spruce tips for them to bur- 
 row into. 
 
 The greatest pleasure in winter is dog-driving. 
 Every family has from three to a dozen dogs. 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood 25 
 
 The best kind of a Labrador dog is like a wolf, 
 with pointed nose, grey hair and tail curling over 
 his back. Even more than the dogs mentioned 
 by Doctor Watts these Eskimo dogs do delight 
 to bark and bite. They will at once attack any 
 strange animal. They have depopulated Labra- 
 dor of pigs and sheep, and even goats are not 
 happy near them. Wolves sometimes visit them, 
 but there is usually a fight before a visiting wolf 
 has tarried long. A good team of dogs will carry 
 a load of men and their truck fifty miles a day 
 and will travel eight miles an hour. They will 
 eat anything — even each other. They will run 
 all day and then fight all night. An Eskimo dog 
 treats a cat like a pill. Every one in Labrador 
 goes visiting in winter, and at whatever house one 
 stops he finds shelter. 
 
 When spring began to break up the ice, seal 
 hunting commenced, and out on the ice father 
 and son went, "chisels and sparbles" in the soles 
 of their boots to claw hold with, seal "bat" or 
 "gaff" to kill their victims, tow ropes over shoul- 
 ders and a bag, perhaps, of walrus meat for food. 
 Sharp sheath-knife and steel in their belt and 
 gun over their back were all the other baggage 
 they needed, and thus they were away from 
 
26 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood 2"/ 
 
 daylight to dark, "copying" or jumping from 
 floating ice-pan to ice-pan mile after mile, 
 or, perhaps, "swatching," that is, hiding behind 
 a "gaze" of ice. They would watch some piece 
 of open water amidst the ice and shoot any 
 old seal that might show his head. Bay seals 
 are hunted in kayaks, but "harp" seals are hunted 
 by finding a clear piece of water and building a 
 shelter of ice near by. They are shot as they 
 rise to the surface and are harpooned before they 
 can sink. The seal hunters had good chances 
 to shoot ducks and other wild birds that always 
 fly close over the headlands. They fly so close 
 together that, although it may seem incredible, 
 thirty have been known to fall at a single 
 shot. 
 
 When May comes in, everybody is busy get- 
 ting salmon nets ready, and as soon as the ice 
 breaks, beds and bedding, stoves and furniture, 
 nets and guns, dogs and goats, women and chil- 
 dren are carried to the salmon posts on the big 
 rivers. Eighty to one hundred salmon, each 
 weighing twenty pounds and over, are often 
 taken in one night. While the men are watch- 
 ing the nets to keep floating ice away, the women 
 and boys are sent up the river to net trout. In 
 
28 Pomiuk 
 
 the winter time the boys catch fish through holes 
 in the ice. 
 
 And now tending the nets, spHtting and salt- 
 ing salmon would take up all the time of the 
 men, for the treacherous ice has to be watched 
 night and day lest a "growler" or large ice 
 pan should descend on the net and tear it 
 to pieces, or tangle it up and carry it away al- 
 together. 
 
 As soon as the salmon and trout are disposed 
 of and the mosquitoes and black flies arrive, the 
 family would move to the "outside" or seacoast 
 proper, and now either long lines had to be 
 set and tended, one line, perhaps, having one 
 thousand hooks, or huge cod traps and cod sieves 
 had to be visited in turn, the men and lads often 
 going a week without even getting into bed — just 
 sleeping in some tent or "tupik" near the fishing- 
 ground, or drowsing in the boat itself. 
 
 Boys have their play, too, in Labrador. Mak- 
 ing toy bows and arrows, throwing a toy har- 
 poon at a mark in the snow and tilting a spear 
 through a ring were favorite games of skill. The 
 Eskimo's only musical instrument is a rough 
 kind of tambourine. The southern Eskimo have 
 learned football from the white men, which they 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood <?p 
 
 play with a walrus bladder blown full and cov- 
 ered with leather, men, women and children 
 joining in with fierce delight and constant laugh- 
 ter. But Pomiuk was too far away for that. 
 His mother taught him how to carve men and 
 animals on the smooth white walrus tusks, and 
 he may have condescended when he was little to 
 play dolls with his sister, for the girls of Labra- 
 dor enjoy this motherly game even until they are 
 grown up and married. 
 
 The young Eskimo's greatest skill in play is 
 shown in handling the dog whip which becomes 
 so useful to him later in life. This whip has 
 a short, stiff handle and a lash fifty feet long. 
 A Yankee fisherman once offered to let an Es- 
 kimo give him three strokes about the legs with 
 his whip. He covered his stout sea-boots with 
 several rolls of thick cloth from an old com- 
 forter and then walked forty feet away. At 
 the first stroke the Eskimo's whip cut his flesh to 
 the bone. He did not tarry for the other two 
 strokes. 
 
 Why should a boy in Labrador mourn because 
 his toys are few when he does every day the 
 things for which men of wealth in America in 
 their brief vacations spend large sums of money 
 
JO Pomiuk 
 
 in the way of sport? To hunt the caribou and 
 the great sea birds, to catch a hundred trout in 
 an hour or to "toll" a seal from the depths of 
 the ocean, to have a swift "randy" of fifty miles 
 behind a dog team over the gleaming snow on 
 a clear day in March, to go where one wills and 
 find in every home a host who will give you wel- 
 come and share with you all he has, to hear the 
 song of the sea in his old halls, to row past 
 cliffs that rise like mountains and glaciers that 
 tower like Alps, to approach shores whose Arctic 
 lichens and fireweed show the brightest colors 
 of a New England forest in autumn, to watch 
 the phosphorescence make the sea like silver, to 
 see stately icebergs like floating palaces of crys- 
 tal move silently southward, to watch cold sun- 
 rises of purple splendor by day and auroras of 
 a million rainbow tints at night — this is the out- 
 door school life of a Labrador boy, this is the 
 bright side of boyhood in the Northland. No 
 buzzing telephones or rattling telegraphs, no 
 crowded daily papers or dull books to read, no 
 automobiles to run over you or elevated rail- 
 roads to stun your ears or disturb your sleep, but, 
 even though the nights be a trifle long, perfect 
 stillness and perfect rest, a land without a road, 
 
Pomiuk's Boyhood ji 
 
 a jail, a policeman or a licensed saloon. Such 
 was the busy, happy boyhood of Pomiuk. He 
 had never heard of the United States and he had 
 never seen a white boy in his life. 
 
pomiuh at Chicago 
 
II . 
 
 POMIUK AT CHICAGO 
 
 Once: upon a time a Massachusetts boy, for the 
 benefit of his health, broken in school, took a 
 summer trip to Labrador on a Newburyport fish- 
 ing schooner, accompanied by three or four other 
 New England students. They remained on their 
 vessel in the landlocked harbor of Salmon Bay 
 in the Straits of Belle Isle, enjoyed the novel 
 experiences of ocean travel and a sojourn on that 
 wild coast, and returned in the fall to their 
 homes. The connection of this excursion with 
 the present story will soon appear. 
 
 This was almost fifty years ago, but it is still 
 true that a few schooners from Massachusetts, 
 and many more from Canada and Newfoundland, 
 sail to Labrador every year, carrying the fisher- 
 men, 20,000 of them, to catch "the coin of the 
 realm," the codfish. Just as soon as the ice is 
 blown off the coast by westerly winds, these 
 "greenfish catchers" arrive. 
 
jd Pomiuk 
 
 "In spring, nets only are used, for the fish are 
 in shoals, feeding on the myriads of caplin, a 
 fish the size of a sardine, which are in shore then 
 to spawn. The most successful net is the cod- 
 trap. Practically it is a submerged parlor of 
 net without a roof, but with la large door, into 
 which the cod are invited to walk by a long 
 net leading to the nearest headland of rock, and 
 ending at the center of the door. It is all kept 
 in position by heavy anchors. The distance from 
 the rock is from a hundred to a hundred and 
 fifty yards. Cod are gregarious fish, and, like 
 sheep, follow a leader. When, therefore, one 
 comes up against the net as he swims near the 
 rocks, he turns out into deeper water to circum- 
 vent it, and so leads his confiding following 
 directly into the net. Here, being a platonic fish, 
 he remains, indolently browsing on the infusoria 
 and ocean slime which collect about the twiny 
 walls of his prison. Suddenly a boat appears 
 overhead, and a long telescope, with a plain glass 
 bottom — the fish glass — is pushed down into the 
 room, through which the trap-master is peering 
 to see how many finny prisoners there are. Now 
 the door is pulled up, and now the door is ris- 
 ing — rising — rising, being passed right over the 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 27 
 
 boat, until all the frightened captives are huddled 
 together in one seething mass near the surface. 
 Now a dipper is put in, and the jumping, strug- 
 gling fish are heaved into the boat. Soon the 
 boat is full to the gunwale, and still there are 
 more prisoners. Large bags of net are pro- 
 duced and filled with the rest of the fish. These, 
 after being buoyed, are thrown overboard to 
 wait till they are 'wanted.' " 
 
 It is a hard life these fishermen live; during 
 the season constant excitement and overwork, a 
 few hours sleep in a damp mud hut, and then 
 at it again; wild dashes along an uncharted 
 coast lined with crags and reefs, the treacher- 
 ous fogs and icebergs, the sudden, cruel storms, 
 and then after all a small profit, eaten up at 
 once by the wretched system of barter by which 
 the shore merchants keep most of the fishermen 
 constantly in debt. Oftentimes thus our common 
 breakfast fare is paid for by men's lives. Yet 
 men go there year after year, and even women 
 and girls go with them, to work at cleaning fish. 
 
 The white people Avho stay all the year long 
 are called livieres or planters. They pass a mis- 
 erable winter in their poorly built huts, most of 
 them having no clothing but what they wear 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago jp 
 
 on their backs. They are often isolated from 
 the outer world for eight months. The Mora- 
 vian missionaries do not believe in prayers for 
 the dead, but they were praying for Queen Vic- 
 toria for half a year before they knew of her 
 death. They do not know the taste of beef or 
 fresh milk. There is but one cow in Labrador. 
 Molasses is used instead of sugar. Salt pork, 
 dried peas, rice and oatmeal and powder and 
 shot enough to get fresh meat with make a man 
 rich. People who tried to grow potatoes had 
 to put nightclothes over them when they got 
 under their own. Turnip tops and wild berries 
 alone keep off the dread scurvy. Most of the 
 people reach spring half or almost starved. 
 Many of them have not clothes enough to tempt 
 them to get out of bed in winter. 
 
 This has been given to me as the menu of a 
 fisherman's dinner, of course as a burlesque: 
 
 HAGDOWN SOUP 
 
 ("Hagdown," a very oily, fishy bird.) 
 
 HAGDOWN STEW 
 
 (Made of what would n't make soup.) 
 "mug-up" 
 (Some "fearsome" tea.) 
 
 FLOUR BREAD 
 
 (second quality.) 
 
40 Pomiuk 
 
 OLEOMARGARINE 
 
 (very suspicious.) 
 '''pipsey" 
 (Dry cod, rubbed with seal oil, and dressed with cran- 
 berries, if there are any.) 
 
 Yet some of the settlers prosper in a rough 
 way and become attached to this their adopted 
 land. I have read of an old Englishman who 
 went to this country followed by his sons. Not 
 less than seventy-six grandchildren now live 
 around him. A barrel of flour a week is used 
 up in his house. In the evening the young fel- 
 lows sit around a blazing log fire on strong home- 
 made settles, the snow outside six to ten feet 
 deep — with always some new yarn to tell, some 
 new puzzle to solve, some piece of work to 
 be done. There are always fish for the table 
 in summer, trout and sea birds in spring and 
 venison in winter. 
 
 In Northern Labrador crowds of quaint little 
 people visit any vessels which anchor in their 
 harbor. They look like elves. They wear skins 
 and have snow-white jumpers topped by long 
 pointed cowls that stand high up over their heads. 
 They skip noiselessly about in sealskin boots. The 
 men look just like the women, except that they 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 
 
 41 
 
42 Pomiuk 
 
 liave very scanty beards. They have long, 
 straight black hair, cut fringelike, level with the 
 eyebrows. These are Innuits, "the people," as 
 they call themselves. "Huskies" the fishermen 
 call them. We say Eskimo. A childlike people, 
 short-sighted and fickle, with round, fat faces 
 almost always laughing, with teeth that show 
 the effects of long chewing of half-cooked meat 
 (covered with ashes and oil) and skins that bear 
 the layers of many seasons of dirt (for Labrador's 
 only bathtub is the icy Atlantic), they are never- 
 theless a lovable folk. They are not very tender, 
 though they are careful in a rough way of their 
 childreit, and they have no such word in their 
 language as kindness, but they are generous and 
 brave, and when they learn the Christian way 
 they follow it like little children. S 
 
 It was one of the experiences of our Massachu- 
 setts student of the fifties that he saw the dark 
 side of life in Labrador. There was no church 
 among all these settlements. And yet it was men 
 like these fishermen who were the first to follow 
 Jesus of Nazareth, who told his life and who 
 built on the rock foundation of their faith the 
 Christian Church. Jesus loved such men and 
 loves them now. The brave Moravians had had 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 43 
 
 missions on a distant part of the same coast for 
 many years. A noble, self-sacrificing band, 
 generation after generation of them had served 
 God on this iron coast. Their wives come to 
 them by lot from beyond the sea, and at seven 
 years their children go away from them back 
 across that sea, never to see their parents again. 
 But these Moravians could not begin to visit 
 all the little hamlets and their nearest mission 
 was more than 400 miles away from the Straits 
 of Belle Isle. There were no schools. There were 
 no books. The children were growing up in 
 ignorance. And behind all these people, immi- 
 grants or descendants of immigrants from Great 
 Britain and the British colonies, there was, far 
 to "the nor'ard," the dark fringe of the Eskimo, 
 worshiping spirits, cheated by their ignorant 
 medicine men, and living in vileness of body and 
 soul. 
 
 The Massachusetts boy returned home to re- 
 sume his studies and afterward to go into busi- 
 ness. But he could not forget these needy people 
 of the North. Several times he asked officers of 
 missionary societies why they did nothing for the 
 Labrador people. Finally one of them told him 
 of a new society in Montreal that might be in- 
 
^^ Pomiuk 
 
 terested in Labrador. He wrote and received 
 an answer stating that their projected society 
 was just about to be disbanded, for lack of a 
 special field or a missionary to go to it. Per- 
 haps, they said, Labrador was his field, and 
 this young man their missionary. He indeed 
 had scarcely thought of such a thing, but he soon 
 decided that he could not refuse so direct a sum- 
 mons. 
 
 So our chance excursionist of a few years 
 before, now twenty-one years old, went again to 
 Newburyport and sailed away on a fishing 
 schooner, with a box of Bibles and another of 
 reading-books, to the Labrador coast. The fam- 
 ilies whom he had known at the time of his 
 previous visit received him kindly, and urged 
 him to teach their children. This he began to do, 
 but also took a long trip on foot along the road- 
 less coast to select the best place for a station, 
 returning then to "America" with his report. 
 The next year he sent a cargo of lumber down 
 from Montreal, and with such help as he could 
 get erected a commodious mission-house on 
 Caribou Island, Salmon Bay (the very harbor 
 where he had once anchored), that being a cen- 
 tral point for the scattered "livieres" and the 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 45 
 
 harbors of the American and Nova Scotia fishing 
 fleets. Before it was completed a fearful Octo- 
 ber gale carried away the roof and made neces- 
 sary another home trip to get more funds and 
 more lumber. The latter he took down the 
 St. Lawrence on a chartered Quebec schooner, 
 together with a noble-hearted Scotch woman as 
 teacher, and, as a temporary helper for the sum- 
 mer, a young New England student who af- 
 terward fell as "The Color Bearer" at Port 
 Hudson. 
 
 For seven years in all, our friend of the health 
 excursion, reinforced in due time by a Massa- 
 chusetts wife, labored on the coast, as missionary 
 of the Montreal Society and chaplain of the 
 American Seamen's Friend Society, visiting the 
 seamen on their vessels, and the shoremen in their 
 homes, holding Sabbath services in the island 
 chapel, and in the winter removing home and 
 church and school to the winter settlement on 
 Eskimo River. His health failed after enduring 
 the hardships and rigorous climate of such a 
 coast, and he came back to America in time to 
 minister to the sick and dying soldiers in the 
 last winter of our Civil War, and to walk into 
 the city of Petersburg on the memorable morning 
 
46 Pomiuk 
 
 of its surrender, in company with Charles Carle- 
 ton Coffin. 
 
 An incident which connects one of those 
 Labrador homes with the books of our own Ed- 
 ward Everett Hale, is also associated with so 
 many romantic traditions, as well as with the 
 poem from which I have quoted on one of the 
 opening pages of the book that I must reproduce 
 it from the letter written by this missionary many 
 years afterward to Dr. Hale, and published in his 
 "Lend a Hand Record." 
 
 "How long the winter seemed to the young mis- 
 sionaries from New England in war-time ! The last 
 news, as the curtain fell one autumn, was of the 
 enemy near Washington, and the "no'the'ners" re- 
 treating. It was June before the suspense ceased, 
 as looking from our flagstaff with a glass, we saw 
 the topmast of am American schooner through a 
 notch in the hills, and on it the dear old stars and 
 stripes — ^then we knew we had a country ! 
 
 "Not far from the narrowest point in the Straits 
 of Belle Isle was the most historic and most ro- 
 mantic place of all, the great bay of Bradore (Bras 
 d'Or), settled by the French and frequented by the 
 Basque whalers long before our Pilgrim Fathers 
 landed on Pymouth Rock. It was then Brest, 'the 
 chief town of New France,' a populous, prosperous 
 settlement, and part of a famous French seigniory. 
 After the conquest of Quebec the region was 
 slowly and very sparsely settled by the English, in 
 place of the French. One bit of local history is 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 47 
 
 romance itself. About 1790, an English ship 
 bound up the St, Lawrence was wrecked, as so 
 many others have been, in the treacherous straits 
 not far from Bradore. The only female passenger 
 was a lady of noble birth ; by tradition she, or per- 
 haps her mother, was the natural daughter of an 
 earl, I think, of Courtenay. She bore the name of 
 Mary Ann Vane. Who knows but she was akin 
 to Sir Harry, the Puritan governor at Boston? 
 She was on her way to Quebec to marry a young 
 English officer stationed there. A young EngHsh- 
 man from the opposite shore of Newfoundland Avas 
 moved to arrange for her maintenance for the win- 
 ter, planning to return, when the Straits were open 
 in the spring, and win her as his bride. But mean- 
 time the seignior of St. Paul's river, one Louis 
 Chevalier, came on a winter's cruise with his dogs 
 down the coast. He came, saw and conquered — 
 persuaded her that her afifianced soldier was doubt- 
 less killed, or, in any case, would surely think 
 her lost at sea, and find another love. So it came 
 about that the high born English lady married the 
 French salmon-catcher, and lived ever after the life 
 of a stately recluse on the banks of Eskimo River. 
 "One of her children became the wife of the 
 English proprietor of Bradore, and so showed her 
 noble blood that the plainer settlers called her the 
 'Queen of Bradore.' When I lived on the coast, I 
 heard this curious story of her. Many years be- 
 fore, Audubon saihng along the shore in his or- 
 nithological researches, visited Bradore. He was 
 most courteously entertained by Madame Jones, 
 who greatly regretted that a very remarkable mu- 
 sical instrument which she had imported, had been 
 sent to Quebec for repairs. Being asked by the 
 great naturalist what it was, she owned that she had 
 
48 Pomiuk ' 
 
 forgotten the name, but described it as standing 
 on four legs like a table, and having at one end a 
 crooked handle, the turning of which — even by her 
 children or servants — brought out the most ele- 
 gant music! Audubon checked the rising smile of 
 his young companion, and told her the name of her 
 wonderful instrument. 
 
 "Opening out of this same Bradore Bay — after 
 passing dreaded ledges, on which I well remember 
 lying in our Quebec schooner, loaded with lumber 
 for a mission house, for a day and a night in 
 i860 — is a small, circuitous inlet, ending in a land- 
 locked harbor; that is Belle's Amours, What 
 lost romance of love gave it its name I never 
 knew; but there was a strange charm about that 
 quaint, quiet home on the shore of the bay, with 
 its one house and the usual fishing-stage and store- 
 cabin. The master was son of an English immi- 
 grant, intelHgent, honest, large-hearted. The mis- 
 tress was like unto him, full of good works and 
 almsdeeds which she did to all in trouble or need. 
 The 'Belle's Amours House/ was on the kom-a- 
 tik route from bay to bay, and entertained all the 
 shore-folk as they traveled for business or pleasure 
 — a hospitahty I often tested. Oh, the pork cake, 
 the murr's eggs pancakes, the delicious *bake- 
 apple' (rubus chamaemorus) dishes ! 
 
 "The mother and daughters were devout Catho- 
 lics. The eldest was remarkable in her thirst for 
 knowledge and her sincere devotion to her re- 
 ligion. With conscientious regularity she bowed 
 before the crucifix and the picture of the blessed 
 Virgin whose name she bore. She borrowed all 
 the books she could from priest or minister, read 
 them and taught the younger ones to read. 
 Storm-bound at one time in this home, I looked 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 4P 
 
 around for something to read, and was surprised 
 to find your books in the possession of this girl, 
 who had received them, I suppose, from some 
 traveler. They had been thoroughly read, and 
 were read once more that day with delight ! In- 
 spired by such influences, though narrowed by her 
 surroundings and perhaps by the limitations of her 
 church, she was a true-hearted woman, living 'In 
 His Name' to be good and to do good to others. 
 "You ask, 'What has become of that girl?' Let 
 me first tell you of a strange little graveyard on a 
 sand-hill, not far from the house. The path over 
 the moss from the next bay led past it, and I often 
 stopped to read the inscriptions carved or painted 
 on the humble stones or boards which marked the 
 graves. One which I carefully copied was: — 
 
 " 'Sacred to the memory of Jane, the beloved 
 daughter of James Chambers, of Deadman's Cove, 
 Newfoundland, and the niece of John and Fanny 
 Buckle of Belle's Amours, Labrador. She was 
 born the i8th June, 1830, and died with Christian 
 fortitude on the 19th August, 1852.' 
 
 "We loved her: yes, no tongue can tell 
 
 How much we loved her, and how well. 
 
 God loved her too, and He thought best 
 
 To take her home to be at rest." 
 
 "Readers of Whittier will at once recall his 
 beautiful poem, 'The Rock-tomb of Bradore.* De- 
 spite the poetical license — for the grave is not 
 strictly in Bradore, nor was it a rock-tomb or a 
 cave, and it was not true that her 
 
 "... blood had equal share 
 
 Of the lands of vine and snow, 
 
 Haff French, half Eskimo" — 
 
 the poetry of the place and the epitaph is properly 
 
50 Pomiuk 
 
 transferred to the exquisite verses of our Quaker 
 poet. . . . 
 
 "Brave old John Buckle succumbed to disease, 
 and was laid in the little enclosure. The mother, 
 visiting children in the United States, sickened and 
 died there, and was buried in an ancient Catholic 
 cemetery in South Boston, Misfortune and 
 poverty came to the once prosperous home at 
 Belle's Amours. Mary was besought to go to the 
 States, too, but she steadfastly refused. She would 
 stay and care for her brother's children, she would 
 live and die in the home of her birth. At last she, 
 too, sickened and faded away under slow and pain- 
 ful disease. One morning, when all were away at 
 their work in the fishing stage, she grew worse ; 
 when they returned, she had fallen asleep. And 
 now she lies in that dreary God's acre beside the 
 'rock-tomb of Bradore,' whose epitaph she had so 
 often read 
 
 "Years after my first sojourn in Labrador, I 
 visited the coast again and went to Belle's Amours. 
 The mother and daughter showed me a pot of 
 New England flowers in the sunny window, and 
 said, 'They are from the seed you brought us from 
 your country so many years ago.' You may feel 
 sure that the good seed of your books, so long ago 
 sown beside those waters, has brought forth fruit 
 after its kind through all these years — perchance 
 is yielding its fruit still!" 
 
 But what has all this to do with "Pomiuk at 
 Chicago" ? I will tell you. In the spring of 
 1892 this former missionary received a letter one 
 day from one of his chums who had gone with 
 him on that first summer excursion to the North, 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 57 
 
 and who had now become a successful business 
 man on the Pacific Coast. This man wrote that 
 a company had been organized to exhibit at the 
 World's Fair (which was to be given the next 
 year at Chicago) an Eskimo village and Labra- 
 dor trading post. He asked our friend to give 
 him .all the information he could as to the best 
 way to go and secure a company of Eskimo 
 people to come over with their dogs and sledges 
 and furs to the great Exposition. Of course he 
 was glad to accommodate his old comrade and so 
 he took considerable trouble to forward charts 
 and books about the Labrador coast to the com- 
 pany on the Pacific and arranged for the charter- 
 ing of a Halifax schooner to take the expedition 
 to the far North as soon as the ice should break 
 up. 
 
 A few months later, in the month of October, 
 fifty-seven men and women, of stunted stature, 
 with swarthy skin, flat noses, straight black hair 
 and rounded cheeks, suggestive of blubber, could 
 be seen lolling on the decks of the steamer 
 schooner Everlina, in Boston harbor. These were 
 the Labrador people who were going to inhabit 
 the Eskimo village at the World's Fair. Their 
 trip to Boston had been uneventful, except for 
 
52 Pomiuk 
 
 the difficulty of providing satisfactory food for 
 the Eskimo. They would not eat cooked articles 
 of any sort, and soon became tired of the sun- 
 dried seal meat, venison and fish with which the 
 ship's larder had been plentifully supplied. In 
 this emergency one of .the English speaking 
 Eskimo suggested trailing lines for fish, and soon 
 the whole company made a good catch, which 
 they ate raw. At Port Hawkesbury they had 
 put in for provisions; a barrel of cabbages had 
 been bought and opened on the deck; within fif- 
 teen minutes every bit of the contents of that 
 barrel had disappeared, the Arctic passengers 
 having eaten all parts of the vegetable. Some 
 apples were offered them, but they did not like 
 them. Raw potatoes and raw turnips were eaten 
 with a relish. 
 
 This party consisted of twelve families, among 
 whom were twenty-nine women and nineteen 
 children. As the Exposition was not formally 
 opened until the next spring, the Eskimo were 
 exhibited in Chicago during the winter. Dur- 
 ing that time a little girl was born in the village, 
 who was named Everlina, in honor of the Hali- 
 fax schooner on which they came from Labra- 
 dor, and a little boy, whom they named Chris- 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 33 
 
 topher Columbus, in honor of the Exposi- 
 tion. 
 
 The next autumn our friend, whom many chil- 
 dren know as "Mr. Martin," went to the World's 
 Fair, and of course one of the first places that he 
 visited was the Eskimo village. Here he took 
 a ride on a komatik, pulled by Labrador dogs. 
 As there was no snow in Chicago, it was drawn 
 on a narrow-gauge railroad. He also rode in 
 a kayak on the lagoon. He was specially in- 
 terested in a little boy found in one of the cabins, 
 confined to his bunk from hip disease, whose 
 name was Pomiuk, but who — for advertising pur- 
 poses — was called "Prince" Pomiuk by the man- 
 agers of the village, because his father was a chief 
 in Northern Labrador. He had learned a little 
 English and Mr. Martin got him to laughing by 
 imitating dog driving and telling him of one of 
 his experiences with children in an Indian mitch- 
 waup (wigwam), when he was in Labrador. 
 He also promised to send him a souvenir postal, 
 which he mailed that very afternoon from the 
 Postal Station in the Exposition grounds. The 
 next time he went to see Pomiuk he found he 
 was very much pleased with the card and was 
 eager to know if the boat, the United States ship 
 
54 Pomiuk 
 
 "Illinois," pictured on the card, belonged to Mr. 
 Martin! When Mr. Martin went away he said 
 to him, "aukshenai," which is the Eskimo word 
 for good-bye, as well as the word of greeting. 
 
 Now we left Pomiuk hunting and fishing gaily 
 on his native heath. What had brought him to 
 this country and how had the lively young sports- 
 man become an invalid? 
 
 Well, Chief Kaiouchouak, Pomiuk's father, 
 was a mighty hunter and a stern ruler, but he 
 was a good man. He was about the only Eski- 
 mo who was honest and who never let himself 
 get into debt. Most Eskimo think thieving is 
 just one sort of a practical joke. Naturally he 
 prospered. So some of his neighbors got jealous 
 of him. One day he was being entertained by 
 a man named Kolleligak at the foot of the big 
 mountains called the Kaumejek. The tilt was 
 crowded and so, as is the custom in such cases, 
 he was building him a snow hut for the night. 
 You know what they are like. They look like big 
 white mole-hills. It takes only half an hour to 
 build one. The snow is cut in blocks from the 
 inside of the circle chosen for the house. So 
 the hut goes up and down at the same time. A 
 hole is left at the top for air and a block is cut 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 55 
 
 to fit in the door from the outside when the 
 owner is inside. Kaiouchouak was stooping 
 down to form a large piece of snow into a block. 
 Kolleligak who had secretly been jealous of him 
 for a long time crept up from behind and 
 shot him in the back. He fell down on 
 the snow and rolled over and said : "Who did 
 that?" 
 
 "I did, because we were afraid of you," said 
 Kolleligak, and then as he lay wounded on the 
 snow he shot him again, and there he left his 
 body. Then he went in search of Kaiouchouak's 
 two brothers and when he found them he pointed 
 his loaded gun at them and made them swear 
 never to molest him. So all they could do was 
 to go to the mountain and cover up their broth- 
 er's body with big stones, that the wolves should 
 not eat it. Here on a barren hillock, with his 
 weapons in his hand, they laid him, where he 
 could overlook the scenes of his exploits, and 
 whence his spirit, as they believed, could hunt for- 
 ever, as in life, the spirits of the walrus and the 
 caribou. 
 
 The mother married again at once, as is the 
 Eskimo custom, and gave her children away. 
 Pomiuk and his sister Skeepah were taken by 
 
5d Pomiuk 
 
 Semigak, the medicine man, who possessed three 
 wives. Their little brother Kippinguk was taken 
 by an old Eskimo sorceror called Tuglavina, who 
 took him away to live among the big dark moun- 
 tains at Nachvak. When Pomiuk came to the 
 World's Fair he was in charge of an Eskimo 
 called Kupah. All these people were heathen, 
 because they came from a part of Labrador which 
 was farther north than any to which mission- 
 aries had ever gone. 
 
 When Mr. Martin said "aukshenai" to Pomiuk, 
 he promised to send him his photograph. During 
 the autumn he heard from the little boy once or 
 twice, and learned that he was getting better 
 and that he had started safely for his Labrador 
 home. The Exposition people had arranged 
 that the Eskimo should be conducted safely back 
 to Labrador, and as the previous season had been 
 a poor one for fishing, it is probable that most of 
 them had found their novel experience in Amer- 
 ica profitable as well as interesting. There is 
 something sad, however, about the exhibiting 
 of human beings as objects of curiosity and 
 it was especially pathetic to think that had not 
 Pomiuk come to America he would perhaps 
 never have been injured, for it is probable that 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 57 
 
 it was the roughness of Kupah which had broken 
 the little boy's hip. A great many American 
 children saw Pomiuk and were attracted to him 
 because he was the liveliest and merriest of all 
 the Eskimo children. Before his injury Pomiuk 
 had distinguished himself above all the other 
 children by his skill with the dog whip. The 
 white visitors would place a small coin on the 
 ground as a target and the first Eskimo who 
 could hit it at thirty feet with the whiplash won 
 it. Pomiuk always hit it first. Mr. Martin has 
 been for a number of years the editor of a chil- 
 dren's page (called the "Corner") in one of our 
 American religious weeklies. Of course he re- 
 ported the Eskimo village and Pomiuk to his 
 readers, some of whom in a later visit to the Fair 
 mentioned Mr. Martin's name to Pomiuk and 
 were much pleased to see his smile of recognition. 
 "You come Boston?" "Yes." ''You knozv Mar- 
 tinr "Yes." "Hi:i.i.o!" 
 
 The Eskimo family ("Mr." Kupah and his 
 wife Kootookatook Kupah) that had charge of 
 Pomiuk landed at Bonne Bay, on the west shore 
 of Newfoundland, where they spent the winter 
 quite comfortably in a house which had been 
 kindly loaned to them by the postmaster. Here 
 
58 Pomiuk 
 
 they were waiting until the ice should melt, hop- 
 ing then to reach a harbor in northern New- 
 foundland, whence they could get a passage on 
 some fisherman's schooner to their still distant 
 home. Mr. Martin had not forgotten his promise 
 and after a long correspondence learned where 
 Pomiuk was spending the winter, and through 
 the postmaster and a Christian magistrate suc- 
 ceeded in getting his photograph to Pomiuk. 
 Pomiuk received it, and both the postmaster and 
 the magistrate answered for him, saying that 
 he was using crutches, and "Everlina" was well. 
 
 The Eskimo moved slowly north and part of 
 the next winter Pomiuk stayed at Ramah, a 
 Moravian settlement, where the kind care of the 
 missionaries probably saved his life. 
 
 Somehow Mr. Martin could not forget the little 
 boy and so a year later — in the spring of 1895 — 
 he sent him a letter. Of course he did not know 
 where on that desolate coast the boy, even if alive, 
 would be. There were no dog sledge mails nor 
 even fishing schooners or trading vessels that 
 went so far north. So he sent his letter at a 
 venture in charge of the Pludson Bay Company, 
 to Montreal, addressing it in care of their post 
 at Nachvak, the former home of the boy. The 
 
Pomiuk at Chicago 59 
 
 boy's guardian might be hunting walrus a hun- 
 dred miles away and might never receive it. 
 They forwarded it by a schooner leaving Quebec 
 with supplies for the Labrador posts two months 
 later. This letter continued in its long journey 
 until many months after. It was at last left at 
 the Hudson Bay station at the end of a long, deep 
 fiord among the high mountains of northern 
 Labrador. There had lived for twenty years 
 Mr. Ford, the fur trader, the northernmost white 
 man, with his wife, two boys and a girl, far from 
 any other house or home. He took care of the 
 letter, although he thought it of little importance. 
 Not long after Kupah went by in his skin boat, 
 with his wife and children, to trade seal skins 
 and to go up the river to catch trout. He had 
 Pomiuk with him. They camped on a bleak 
 shore called Tessyuyak, at the foot of the black 
 crags called the Tongaks or Devil Mountains. 
 Mr. Ford probably did not know that Pomiuk 
 was now so neglected that he did not even have 
 clothing. The Eskimo have little sympathy for 
 pain and suffering. His hip trouble was so se- 
 rious, too, that he would not have dared to treat 
 him. He believed his death was near. The letter 
 which brought kind wishes had not been opened 
 
do Pomiuk 
 
 or read. Pomiuk, fatherless, motherless, friend- 
 less, seemed left to die. 
 
 But all this time a friend unknown to him, 
 guided by God, was seeking him. 
 
^be (Sluest for pomiuk 
 
Ill 
 
 THE QUEST FOR POMIUK 
 
 Think of a country without a doctor! and 
 that a fearfully cold country like Labrador, 
 specially exposed to pneumonia and scurvy, and 
 to every contagious disease! To illustrate, using 
 a minor ailment, how would you like to have 
 the toothache all winter for lack of three minutes' 
 skilled surgery? There were a few silly old 
 Angekoks or witchmen, who robbed the poor 
 people without making them any better. There 
 was a woman, too, whose only remedy was a 
 bread poultice, which she applied on all occasions. 
 The worse the disease, the bigger the poultice. 
 Then there was a consulting woman healer, 
 whose remedies were cod oil and molasses. 
 
 There is in this bay also a sorcerer. If no seals 
 come into the bay, he must make them come. 
 To do this he is tied legs and arms in his hut 
 alone. He gets out of the hut, possibly through 
 the skin window, as the door is barred, and lies 
 
64 Pomiuk 
 
 on the top. His soul then goes to the moon, 
 where dwells Supperguksoak, the woman who 
 is mother of all seals. She will then drop 
 a seal into the water, though she will not tell 
 him where, and, presumably, this prodigy will 
 lead its confiding kith and kin into Nachvak 
 Bay, ready for the harpoons of the human little 
 Eskimos. When a seal is killed they must al- 
 ways give the body a drink of fresh water before 
 they cut it, and then split its eyes. Thus they 
 will bring another seal for the water, and blind 
 it, so that it will not see them. They have a 
 similar custom with white bears or ice-bears. 
 When they go to cut it up, they first cut off 
 right around the lip, in order to prevent the next 
 bear biting them. Here, also, if they have been 
 sick and go bear-hunting, they must wear a piece 
 of the skin on the arm of their kossak, to show 
 the bear that they are strong and well again, 
 and are to be feared. So, if twice sick, two pieces 
 and so on. 
 
 Wounds, no matter how frightful, were usually 
 treated by squirting tobacco juice into them and 
 binding them tightly with an old rag. And some 
 settlements were too poor to have either rags or 
 tobacco. Frozen feet and fingers were amputated 
 with a dull case-knife. 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 6^ 
 
 Doctor Wilfred Grenfell was born on the banks 
 of the Dee, where it empties into the Irish Sea, on 
 the west coast of England, his family coming 
 from Devonshire, where for generations back 
 they had been a line of those old sea-dogs who 
 fought with Spain upon the sea. When he was 
 a boy, his kinsman, Charles Kingsley, the boy's 
 hero, who wrote Hypatia and Westward Ho! 
 took him on his knee and called him a "real 
 Saxon." He is related by marriage to Max Mul- 
 ler and James A. Froude. He lived so near the 
 ocean when he was a boy that in heavy storms 
 the waves would dash up over the sea wall 
 against his house. He was fond of the water 
 from his earliest childhood. When he was quite 
 young his brother and he built a boat in the nur- 
 sery — a long, curious-looking craft, painted red, 
 which they called "Reptile" — in which they spent 
 many happy hours and sometimes nights on the 
 neighboring sea. At Oxford he was a crack 
 athlete. He had a life of worldly success and 
 social prominence before him. He had been con- 
 firmed in the English Church, but the event had 
 not meant a great deal to him. One evening 
 when he was a medical student he dropped into 
 the Tabernacle in East London, where Mr. Moody 
 
66 Pomiuk 
 
 was speaking. That great, generous personality 
 impressed him. "I hadn't anything hke that!" 
 he has stated as his confession after hearing 
 this address. 
 
 As he left with the crowd, he came to the con- 
 clusion that his religious life was a humbug. He 
 vowed in future that he would either give it up or 
 make it real. It was obviously not a thing to be 
 played with. 
 
 "I was then playing," he says, "on several athletic 
 teams, and confess that the idea of a sneer and a 
 cold shoulder had no attractions for me, and it had 
 never occurred to me that popularity might be too 
 dearly paid for at the price of my own inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 "Some time later I heard that one of England's 
 famous cricketers, whose athletic distinctions I 
 greatly admired, Mr. J. E. K. Studd, was going to 
 speak in the neighborhood, and I went to hear 
 him. Seated all in front of me there were two or 
 three rows of boys from a training-ship, all dressed 
 in the same uniform. At the end of his speech Mr. 
 Studd invited any one who was not ashamed to 
 confess that Christ was his Master for this life, 
 rather than a kind of insurance ticket for the next 
 world, to stand up. I was both ashamed and sur- 
 prised to find that I was afraid to stand) up. I did 
 not know I was afraid of anything. One boy out 
 of all this large number rose to his feet. I knew 
 pretty well what that meant for him, so I decided 
 to back him up and do the same. 
 
 "With this theological outfit, I started on my 
 missionary career. What to do was the next ques- 
 tion. I went to the parson of a church where I 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 6^ 
 
 occasionally attended, and offered myself for a class 
 of boys in his Sunday-school. They were down- 
 right East Londoners, and their spiritual education 
 needed other capacities than those I had, in my 
 mind, till then endowed the Sunday-school teacher 
 with. I remember being- surprised that one boy, 
 whom I carried to the door by the seat of his 
 trousers and heaved into the street, objected by 
 endeavoring to kick, while his 'pals' in the school 
 were for joining him in open mutiny. He got the 
 last word, however, by climbing up outside the 
 window and waving a hymn-book which he had 
 stolen. 
 
 "The next time I arrived the boys had got in 
 before me (and out also), and the pictures and 
 furniture were not as I had left them. I started 
 to reform them in the ways that appealed most to 
 myself, and, having a house of our own, with four 
 other medical students, we used to clear our dining- 
 room furniture through the window, and replace it 
 wnth a horizontal bar and a couple of pairs of box- 
 ing-gloves. We were able to lead in these things 
 our noisiest boys, and they learned to control their 
 own tempers and respect our capacities more. 
 
 "We amalgamated with the boys also for the 
 purpose of escaping together from the slums when 
 the summer hoHday came on. After my first ex- 
 perience of some of my poor lads' masters, we felt 
 like starting a physical missionary enterprise of a 
 different kind for their behoof. 
 
 "We hired a car and went to North Wales, tak- 
 ing with us tents, etc. The simplest possible outfit 
 of food and clothing was provided. The boys de- 
 veloped in every way — one, indeed, bloomed into 
 the strong man in a traveling circus. 
 
 "My medical course being finished, I began to 
 
68 Pomiuk 
 
 cast about for some way in which I could satisfy 
 the aspirations of a young medical man and com- 
 bine it with a desire for adventure and definite 
 Christian work. Sir Frederick Treves., the famous 
 surgeon, also a daring sailor and master mariner, 
 who had twice helped us at our camps, and for 
 whom I had been doing the work of an 'interne' at 
 the London Hospital, suggested my seeing if a 
 doctor could live at sea among the deep-sea fisher- 
 men on one of the vessels of the Society of which 
 he was a member of the council. 
 
 His family was of a race of fighters and sailors, 
 — a near kinsman is a general of British forces to- 
 day, — and so it was natural that he should be a 
 sailor and a fighter for Christ. He was also study- 
 ing medicine under Sir Andrew Clarke, that 
 great-hearted surgeon, of whom you have read in 
 Ian Maclaren's story, Vx^ho took Lily Grant to his 
 home when she was dying. These two brave 
 Christian physicians determined his life's work. 
 The Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fish- 
 ermen (whose patron was good Queen Victoria 
 and whose patron now is her gracious Alajesty, 
 Alexandra) was about to add to its work of 
 mercy in the North Seas a mission to Labrador. 
 The little steamer Alert was fitted out and 
 Doctor Grenfell, whose membership in the Lon- 
 don Cruising Club had made him a "certificated 
 master mariner," was put in command. This 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 6p 
 
 was in 1892. Two years he sailed the Alert, but 
 in 1894 he was given a staunch little steamer, 
 named the Sir Donald Smith, for the great 
 Canadian philanthropist, who had been in his 
 youth an agent for thirteen years of the Hudson 
 Bay Company on the Labrador coast and so knew 
 all the trials and hardships of the people. 
 
 Here is a description of one season of Dr. Gren- 
 fell's work in northern Newfoundland: 
 
 "Drove 1,500 miles among very poor fisher-folk, 
 preaching and doctoring. Started and ran the jail- 
 house as a social club and center for lending litera- 
 ture, only one on coast. Ditto foot-ball club. Dit- 
 to Scripture Union Society. Ambulance lectures 
 regularly; shall leave some one competent to aid 
 people where there are no doctors. Lectured on 
 cooperation and started a cooperative store to 
 fight the 'truck system.' Cut and hauled out frame 
 for a hospital. Gave work for clothing, getting 
 deposits of wood to save enough coal on my 
 steamer for next summer's use over two hundred 
 miles of coast. Redecked my launch here, giving 
 the work to hungry heads of families. There is a 
 huge amount of practical work to be done. One 
 has to do everything and know everything, e. g., 
 to be able to build and handle a boat, to know juni- 
 per from spruce, whiclr is best above and which best 
 below water, to handle a gun, to know beasts, 
 birds and fishes, and all the ways of them, how to 
 hunt, trap and catch them — and make the traps, 
 too — how to make leather from a seal, to sew up 
 a boot, make a sleigh, a suit of clothes, etc. I 
 
10 Pomiuk 
 
 am terribly tired of just ringing- a bell and telling 
 the servant to order whatever is needed ! Applied 
 to surgery and medicine, it calls for all one's 
 patience. I have had two rooms in a house for a 
 'hospital,' (the consulting room, for obvious rea- 
 sons, is called 'the insect room') and had patients 
 all along the shore as well. Had to train my own 
 nurses. I have only a sleeping- bag on the floor 
 where my night-watch patients are, etc. But I 
 pine to be off at sea. I have the roving spirit 
 strong on me." 
 
 Dr. Grenfell thinks some natural history stories 
 a bit exaggerated, but there is one piece of 
 natural history which he thinks nobody can ex- 
 aggerate — and that is the Labrador dog. Here 
 is one of his experiences. 
 
 "Modesty is a virtue of which the Eskimo dog 
 is seldom guilty. I was visiting one day a bed- 
 ridden patient. As the outer door opened, a fra- 
 grant scent as of a dinner preparing was wafted out- 
 ward. Suddenly an avalanche swept me off my legs, 
 and a pack of dogs, whisking the stew-pot off the 
 fire, began to fight savagely over its contents, the 
 more so as each having burnt its nose in the boil- 
 ing liquid, attributed his affliction to his neighbor. 
 Meanwhile the house filling with steam and Eski- 
 mo imprecations, the latter rendered forcible by 
 long harpoon handles, made me almost sorry I had 
 called. 
 
 "The 'trail' is usually over the frozen sea, the 
 land being too uneven. Good dogs will cover from 
 70 to 100 miles in a day. When starting in 
 the morning the snow is covered with little 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 71 
 
 icicles formed by the midday sun melting frozen 
 surface. As this is apt to make the feet of 
 the dog's bleed, they are shod with a bag- of seal 
 skin, tied round the ankle. Three small holes are 
 cut for the claws. A pup shoed for the first time, 
 holds up his paws in the air alternately; but once 
 he learns to appreciate the fact that shoes save 
 his feet from being cut, though he will always eat 
 any ordinary piece of skin, such as a kayak or 
 a skin boot, he rarely eats his own shoes. They 
 do, however, bite at and eat the harness, especially 
 of the dog in front of them. Mr. Young tells 
 of a big dog which, though apparently always 
 hard at work, never seemed to get tired like the 
 rest. It always seemed to strain at its trace and 
 kept looking round, apparently for the driver's ap- 
 proval. His suspicions, however, were aroused, 
 and one day, cutting loose the trace, he fastened it 
 by a single thread to the komatik. Sure enough, 
 the dog strained and worked as hard as ever, but 
 it never broke a single thread! 
 
 "Plowing is a humdrum task which these dogs 
 do not enjoy. The only way it can be done is for 
 one man to march solemnly in front dragging a 
 seal's flipper while another man has to shove and 
 guide the plow. 
 
 "These dogs are fearless in retrieving birds by 
 the seashore. 
 
 "When a flock passes, all the guns are discharged 
 simultaneously and the ducks, which at times re- 
 spond in showers, are nominally divided equally. 
 
 "But now comes the excitement. As a rule a 
 huge Atlantic surf, with these northeast winds, 
 break over the point, and the splendid pluck and 
 endurance of the dogs is taxed to the uttermost. 
 Dashing into the waves, I have seen them re- 
 
12 Pomiuk 
 
 peatedly hurled back, bruised and winded, high on- 
 to the ledges of rock, only to be dragged off by the 
 return wave and once more pounded onto the 
 rocks. To avoid this, the brave beasts hold on 
 with the energy of despair, and many times have I 
 noted their bleeding paws, and nails torn off in the 
 unequal struggle. Yet they would at once return 
 to the charge, and waiting their chance, leap right 
 over the breaking crest, and so get clear of the surf. 
 Once they seize a duck they never let it go, and I 
 have often felt sorely tempted even to jump in and 
 give the brave creatures a hand when it seemed im- 
 possible for them to keep up the struggle any 
 longer. Yet, after being lost to view, engulfed by 
 a huge breaker, one would see soon a duck appear, 
 and after it a dog's head, still true to its hazardous 
 duty. Sometimes, however, they are really lost." 
 
 Dr. Grenfell is often exposed to great danger 
 when he is traveling in the North, He fell 
 through the ice one day, running ahead of the 
 dogs. Fortunately his long whip — 32 feet long — 
 always fastened to his wrist — was trailing be- 
 hind. His driver caught hold of the end and 
 dragged him out. He had a cold run o£ six 
 miles and then spoke at the largest meeting held 
 that year, in a fisherman's trousers, and, as he 
 said, almost standing in his shoes. 
 
 It would be interesting to tell you of some of 
 his other adventures, sailing up and down the 
 coast and working patiently in his little hospital 
 
The Quest for Poniiuk 
 
 73 
 
74 Pomiuk 
 
 at Battle Harbor, but all this you can learn by 
 reading his stirring little book on Labrador life 
 and adventure, entitled, "Vikings of To-day." 
 Doctor Grenfell was at his Battle Harbor hospi- 
 tal when the young Americans were in Labrador 
 collecting the Eskimo for the World's Fair and 
 he saw the Everlina pass on her trip south. Little 
 did he imagine that he was ever to have a special 
 interest in one of her passengers. 
 
 In August of the same year in which Mr. Mar- 
 tin wrote his letter, the little mission steamer 
 sailed farther north than it had ever ventured 
 before along a coast that had never been chart- 
 ed since Captain Cook's voyage of a century 
 ago. They crept along the tremendous precipices 
 which rise 3000 feet, stopping occasionally at a 
 little inlet, where they would find a Moravian 
 mission or a few huts of the Eskimo. At one 
 of these inlets the Moravians asked Dr. Grenfell 
 to go and see a sick man, and as he entered into 
 the little hut made of walrus bones, he saw a 
 queer little woman sitting at the entrance of the 
 burrow. A baby peeked out from the hood over 
 •her shoulder, and she was wearing sealskin 
 trousers and boots such as all the Eskimo ladies 
 wear. "That," said the Moravian missionary, 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 75 
 
 POMIUK S MOTHER AND SISTER AT RAMAH 
 
7(5 Pomiuk 
 
 "is Anniortama. Her husband was the attenek 
 or chief of the Eskimos ; he was murdered in the 
 high mountains north somewhere, hunting." 
 
 "Stooping very low, we crept along and found 
 ourselves in a large hole cut out of the ground. It 
 was partially lighted by a window in the roof, made 
 of the dried and stretched bowel of the seal. There 
 was also a wonderful lamp burning, which gave a 
 little heat, and over which some codfish was stew- 
 ing in seal fat, while all around hung bladders and 
 skins full of blubber for future use. The bowl of 
 the lamp was a flat stone, scooped out on the top. 
 In it was a large lump of the blubber, and around 
 the edge was dry moss, squeezed flat by crevices 
 of the rocks in which it had grown. The moss was 
 dipped in oil and lighted, the size of the flame 
 being regulated by putting the lump of fat nearer 
 to or further from the burning moss. 
 
 "Soon it was time for us to leave again. Said 
 Brother Stecker, 'If you go round that high cape 
 to the north, called Naksarektok, you will find the 
 entrance to a narrow inlet. Travel some twenty 
 miles up that, and you will find a little house. 
 There lives an agent of the great Hudson Bay 
 Company, who buys furs from the heathen Eskimo 
 living near Cape Chidley/ 
 
 "Tlie fog hung heavily on the hilltops, and foam- 
 ing breakers, thundering with resistless force over 
 hidden reefs, came in view as we rounded the 
 frowning headland. How they roared as we 
 passed, and seemed to be spitting out their spite 
 at our little vessel, as they flung great clouds of 
 spray high in the air in their impotent rage at 
 being unable to reach and swallow us up! On 
 and on we went, till we came to a dark black gap 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 77 
 
 in the cliffs. Perpendicular precipices stood on 
 each side, disappearing above into a roof of black- 
 est sea-fog. Our lead found no bottom in the 
 fathomless depths below. It looked like the en- 
 trance to some grim ogre's cavern. Could this 
 be the narrow opening we had heard of? None 
 of us knew. We could but try. 
 
 " 'Hard a starboard !' to the helmsman ; 'Dead 
 slow ahead !' to the engine room, and in we go. 
 Darker and yet darker it grew. The cold, wet roof 
 of fog, caught between the opposing walls of 
 rocks, came lower and yet lower as we went fur- 
 ther in. The roar of the surf on the rocks echoed 
 louder and yet louder. Suddenly a faint glimmer 
 of light — a little more — and then we found our- 
 selves in daylight again, in a narrow fiord winding 
 away amongst endless naked cliffs, while looking 
 back we could see an apparently impenetrable wall, 
 forming a gate to this marvelous clift in the 
 mountains. On, on and on we went. It seemed 
 as if we must be wrong after all. And it was 
 after night had fallen before the twinkle of a light 
 suddenly greeted the anxious eye of the watch on 
 deck. 'Light on the starboard bow, sir,' he 
 shouted. 'All right. Stop her. Try the lead.' 
 'No bottom in thirty fathoms, sir.' 'Good. Half 
 speed ahead. Put her for the light.' 
 
 "What a time it took to reach that light! At 
 last, in answer to our steam whistle, we heard 
 three rifle shots echoing away among the cliffs. 
 Then a second light moving. Soon a splash of 
 oars, and then a boat is alongside. A hearty 
 Englishman leaps over the rail and cries out, 'Why, 
 what ship is this? Where on earth are you from 
 and how did you get here?' " 
 
 It was Mr. Ford, the agent, who was rowing 
 
78 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk yg 
 
 it, and who soon showed the doctor the only 
 place down that long cleft in the mountains where 
 a ship could anchor, so deep was the water on 
 every side. Mr. Ford told them that the Eskimo 
 were all away hunting, with the exception of one 
 Kupah, whose reindeer-skin tent was further up 
 the bay, where he and his family were trouting. 
 
 "They have a dying boy up there also," he 
 added, "though it is not their child." 
 
 "Good night," said Dr. Grenfell; "we won't 
 fail to search for him in the morning." 
 
 Let me tell the rest of the story in Dr. Gren- 
 fell' s ow^n words : 
 
 "At daylight the little jolly-boat was ready once 
 more and soon, after a sharp pull, we were search- 
 ing with our glasses the edges of the inlet from a 
 high promontory jutting out into the bay. Small 
 as the tupik was, we made it out, pitched on the 
 bare rounded stones close to the mouth of a tor- 
 rent rushing from the hills. What a speck it 
 looked! Off again at once, and soon we have 
 drawn aside the flag which forms the door, and, 
 peering in, see sitting on skins spread over the 
 raised heap at the end, an Eskimo woman with two 
 little girls, while on the cold ground lay a naked 
 boy of about eleven years, an old reindeer skin 
 thrown over him, his long jet black hair cut, the 
 way they always do, in a fringe across his fore- 
 head, and his face drawn with pain and neglect. 
 It was Pomiuk. Poor little fellow ! His thigh was 
 
8o 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 8i 
 
 broken and diseased as well. What could we do 
 in our short visit to a place so far from anywhere? 
 Only one thing; take him away with us. Could 
 that be done? 
 
 "Mr. Ford told them that we were medicine men, 
 and wished to make the boy well. He was not 
 their boy. He could be of no use to them now, 
 because he could not hunt. Would they give the 
 boy to us? 
 
 " 'Ajaunamat,' said Kupah, shrugging his 
 shoulders; which meant we could do as we liked. 
 
 "So we improvised a stretcher and at once 
 carried him to Mr. Ford's house. Here, under 
 chloroform, to ease him of his pain, we washed the 
 poor child, cleansed and dressed his wound — and 
 having left behind his only covering, the dirty 
 old reindeer skin, we put on him some clean linen 
 and carried him to the Sir Donald. Here we laid 
 him in the cabin on the great white skin of a polar 
 bear, as he was not accustomed to a bed, and in- 
 deed there were no beds aboard. 
 
 "But I must not forget one possession he had. 
 It was the only thing in the world he possessed — 
 a letter from a gentleman in Boston, named Mr. 
 Martin, who had seen Pomiuk at the World's Fair, 
 and had tried to tell him of his Saviour. The letter 
 had, after long journeyings, reached this port by 
 the company's vessel, Erik, on her voyage to 
 Hudson Bay, and was lying there till Kupah 
 should come with his catch of trout and salmon. 
 Now the letter was handed to me ; so we opened it 
 and Mr. Ford in Eskimo told Pomiuk what it said. 
 Already it was getting time for the Sir Donald to 
 be off once more. Oh, how sorry they were to say 
 good-bye, so seldom does any one visit their lonely 
 station! But away we must go, as we might per- 
 
82 Pomiuk 
 
 haps never be able to get south after the equinoc- 
 tial gales should once set in, and rouse the fury of 
 the gigantic waves of the Atlantic." 
 
 It was an impressive moment when Doctor 
 Grenfell opened the letter which was to connect 
 the two friends of Pomiuk as helpers of him and 
 of each other for life. Up to this time they had 
 never heard of each other. 
 
 "Who is this Mr. Martin?" asked the doctor 
 of Pomiuk, through his interpreter. "Do you 
 know him?" 
 
 Pomiuk's face lit up with an expression of ten- 
 derness unusual to any Eskimo. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "me even love him." 
 
 The doctor continues : 
 
 "Kupah from his kayak waved us good-by. 
 Soon he would be far out on the edge of the frozen 
 sea hunting for walruses and seals. Watching 
 hour after hour by the 'blow hole' till a seal puts 
 up its head, when whir-r-r-r, and his sharp spear 
 would fly true and straight. Or creeping along in 
 his kajak to the edge of an ice pan, on which a 
 lazy walrus is sleeping. Splash ! splash ! and away 
 goes the monster, but not before Kupah has fixed 
 into it his stout harpoon. Now all is quiet, but 
 Kupah is watching like a cat. Suddenly there 
 appears a great round thing on the surface of the 
 sea a hundred yards, it may be, or more away, and 
 like an arrow from a bow Kupah is after it. It is 
 
The Quest for Pomiuk 83 
 
 the seal skin filled with air, which is fast to his 
 harpoon. Now he steadies himself for another 
 shot Up comes the huge walrus, it catches sight 
 of its enemy, and, raising itself high out of the 
 water, rushes with its huge fierce tusks on Kupah, 
 Quick as lightning he darts aside, seizes his long 
 lance, and buries it in the walrus' heart. But the 
 infuriated beast is not dead, and coming on the 
 frailkajak tears it to pieces. Kupah is out of the 
 sinking boat in a moment, holding to his paddle 
 for support in the icy waves. In the confusion of 
 blood and foam the walrus misses its enemy and 
 floats close beside him, frantically kicking in its 
 death struggle. But hark ! a cheering shout gives 
 courage to the drowning Kupah. A second kajak 
 darts to his rescue. It is Kalleligak, his good 
 friend. He soon drags Kupah into the back of his 
 little boat, and, seeing the walrus safe, they speed 
 to the ice edge to get help to tow it home. And 
 now, on the way back, every man must confess all 
 his wicked deeds to the others. Each man must 
 forgive all the wrongs any of the others may have 
 done to him before they reach the shore, else they 
 will never get another walrus. Then a spear is 
 driven firm into the ice. Ropesi of walrus hide are 
 made fast to their victim, and all the little men, 
 laughing and chattering over their good fortune, 
 keep shortening the ropes round the spear until 
 the walrus lies out of water on the ice floe. Then 
 they must give it at once a drink of water in order 
 that its spirit may not be ofifended, and in order 
 that plenty more walruses may come along. Then 
 its head must be carefully split in two, and one tusk 
 taken away from the other, so that the next wal- 
 rus they kill may not be able to hurt their kajaks." 
 
 And here we leave them forever, these fy^o 
 
84 Pomiuk 
 
 ignorant wild men, Kiipah the heartless and 
 Kolleligak the murderer. They have already for- 
 gotten all about Pomiuk who goes sailing south in 
 the care of his brave-hearted protector, never to 
 know cold and loneliness again. 
 
Zhc IRescue 
 
IV 
 
 THE RESCUE 
 
 Oi'' course Doctor Grenfell answered Mr. Mar- 
 tin's letter to Pomiuk at once, telling him the 
 whole story. He added : 
 
 "Now that the dirt, the worst of the pain and the 
 fear of being- touched have passed off, we find him 
 a bright, happy and delightful little fellow. We 
 shall keep him. From your letter, sir, I judge you 
 to be a praying man. If so, you may care to pray 
 for a blessing on this Httle outcast. I will, if you 
 care, send you a photograph of the boy which I 
 took, but I do not know at present whether this 
 will ever reach you." 
 
 The letter came safely to Mr. Martin, and from 
 his reply, still preserved by Dr. Grenfell, the fol- 
 lowing is taken : 
 
 "I am filled with joy and gratitude that God 
 should have so graciously brought it about that 
 you should rescue my dear boy Pomiuk from his 
 sorry condition and certain 'fate. It is like 'the 
 lovingkindness of God toward the children of 
 men.' I am sure it is of, Him and He will 'surely 
 bring it to pass.' Now, I beg you to give Pomiuk 
 
88 Pomiuk 
 
 my kind love, and tell him I am glad that God has 
 taken care of him and brought him to your ship. 
 Furthermore, I wish to have a finger in your good 
 work. I am myself a poor man, but I am editor 
 of a children's department in The Congregational- 
 ist and have before told the story of the boy. Our 
 children will help support him." 
 
 POMIUK ON THE "'siR DONALd/' SUMMER iSqS 
 
 Mr. Martin now told the "Corner" children 
 the marvelous sequel to Pomiuk' s story and asked 
 if they would send money so that he might be 
 cared for. "He belongs to us," said Mr. Mar- 
 tin; "let us take care of him." 
 
The Rescue 8p 
 
 In the meantime Doctor Grenfell brought 
 Pomitik down on his steamer to the hospital at 
 Indian Harbor. Mr. Martin's photograph he kept 
 always close beside him in a little box. It took 
 a month on the way, as there were many harbors 
 to visit and many sick folk to care for. It was 
 a journey of over 300 miles, even if they had 
 gone in a straight course. On the way Pomiuk 
 suffered much with pain. Four times the doctor 
 had to put him to sleep to give him a little ease. 
 
 At first Pomiuk would eat nothing but raw- 
 frozen walrus. It would not seem to us a tempt- 
 ing dainty, greasy, slimy, cold and foul-smelling. 
 An American boy would much prefer jam. So 
 thought the cook. He gave Pomiuk some. The 
 boy tried it. It did not agree with him, and after 
 that Pomiuk had a boot saved up to hurl at the 
 unfortunate cook whenever he should pass. 
 
 It is customary in many publications to give 
 recipes for new dishes. I will now, therefore, 
 give four recipes I have of Eskimo dishes in 
 order of preference according to the little fellow. 
 The first is called "suvalik" ; it is made by frying 
 cod livers, pouring ofif the oil, and pounding up 
 the precipitate with whortleberries. Second, 
 "miceurak" ; dry cod powdered and pounded with 
 
po Pomiuk 
 
 seal oil. Third, "ujak"; seal flippers allowed to 
 
 rot until the hair comes off, and then eaten as 
 
 they are. The fourth is called "igonak" ; consists 
 
 of raw, unsalted cod heads, allowed to lie out in 
 
 the grass until they are "mikkiak," or rotten to 
 
 taste. 
 
 On the way to the hospital, the doctor put in 
 
 at Okkak, one of the Moravian stations, and 
 
 wrote : 
 
 "We obtained some dry reindeer meat for 
 Pomiuk here. His appetite is improving with his 
 health. He has no pain now except when he is 
 dressed, and at present he is asleep by my side in 
 the cabin on the settle, with his legs both slung by 
 bandages to picture rings in the deck. He has not 
 lain on his back certainly for two years, and several 
 months he spent on his hands and knees, being 
 unable to lie down. Brother Schmidt of Okkak 
 has given him a melodeon or concertina, and on 
 this he is generally working out 'God save the 
 Queen,' or some other tune he has heard." 
 
 And again from a station called "Hopedale," 
 where some brave Moravian missionaries live and 
 where Pomiuk could talk his own tongue again 
 among Christian Eskimo, came the following: 
 
 "The little prince is quietly sleeping on my bear- 
 skin. He is so much better, but is easily frightened. 
 He saw a poor little girl the other day have five 
 teeth out at one sitting, and she cried a great deal ; 
 since that he has tried to be braver when we dress 
 
The Rescue 91 
 
 him. I've been teaching him a Httle counting, my 
 cartridge belt making an excellent educator. He 
 gets as far as five times five are twenty-five. He 
 still retains his love for 'ivik,' i.e.: walrus. I am 
 glad to say that 'bake-apples' (berries) from the 
 hills, which settlers when on board bring to him, 
 share his affection now." 
 
 One of the first things necessary for his relief 
 
 after the doctor's operation at the hospital was 
 
 a prolonged hot bath; but how was the hot bath 
 
 to be arranged for in cold Labrador? This was 
 
 the way it was done : — 
 
 "The sister informed me all our large water 
 boilers leaked, so we had to devise some way to get 
 hot water. The merchant here, Mr. Smith, kindly 
 volunteered the loan of his barking port, in which 
 the great fish nets are boiled with bark from the fir 
 trees to 'tan' them and make them resist the water 
 better, a loan I gladly accepted, and twelve strong 
 men slung this over a young tree and marched it 
 up near the house to the hospital. We filled it 
 with water and fenced it around with wood from the 
 wind ; we lit a huge fire below it and kept it going 
 all night and all next day. The child has greatly 
 benefited by his prolonged immersion." 
 
 As soon as the little boy grew better his old 
 happy disposition came back. His nurse, Sister 
 Cecilia Williams, a devoted missionary from near 
 Canterbury on the east coast of England, wrote : 
 
 "He was delighted with a horse and cart, and a 
 Noah's ark with so many animals in it was a great 
 
p^ Pomiuk 
 
 wonder to him. One day he was shown a doll and 
 his curious look of surprise was amusing. He was 
 very much struck with the eyes, nose and mouth, 
 and looking up, said in Eskimo : 'It is something 
 like a baby !' He was shown another doll that had 
 come to grief and lost its hair, but which on lying 
 down closed its eyes. Pomiuk was very much 
 afraid of it, and each time its eyes closed he popped 
 his head under the bedclothes." 
 
 He was not always brave about having his 
 wounds dressed, even after the little girl had 
 shamed him by her grit, and so Doctor Grenfell 
 used to chalk on a medicine cupboard in the cabin 
 the days of the week and when Pomiuk had kept 
 from crying would write under them G, for Good ; 
 but when he had been crying, he would write B, 
 like this : 
 
 Pomiuk: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. 
 B G G 
 
 When he got so many G's, some little present 
 would be given him. 
 
 Soon Doctor Grenfell was away again con- 
 tinuing his work of mercy to the south. He put 
 in one day at Bonne Esperance, near Salmon 
 Bay, where Mr. Martin had been a missionary 
 so long ago, and took dinner in the house he 
 had built for a mission house. He found as 
 one result of Mr. Martin's labors that almost 
 
The Rescue 
 
 93 
 
 ESKIMO HOME, BURNT WOOD COVE, NEAR RIGOLETTZ. 
 POMIUK ON THE GROUND. HEKE HE SPENT THE 
 WINTER OF 1895-96 
 
 everybody in the neighborhood knew how to 
 read. 
 
 When the sea began to freeze, the hospital on 
 the island out in the Atlantic had to be closed 
 for the winter, and the nurse and doctor and all 
 
p^ Pomiuk 
 
 the patients had to be removed. Pomiuk, with two 
 other injured Eskimo, was carried to a Httle house 
 fifty miles up the long inlet called Eskimo Bay, 
 near the largest station of the great fur company, 
 and here he stayed all winter. The little house 
 had been fitted up for sick people and was called 
 "Burnt Wood Cove Hospital," and was much 
 warmer than out in the cold, bleak island, for here 
 it was nestled away in among the fir trees. 
 
 On his next visit to his mother in England 
 Doctor Grenfell went home by way of this coun- 
 try, and visited Mr. Martin's house, so that he 
 might tell his newly found friends about the 
 wonderful work in Labrador. Many children 
 were waiting eagerly to see him and their first 
 question always was, "How is Pomiuk?" He 
 hurried back to Newfoundland in May, but as the 
 ice had not broken up, he made another hasty trip 
 to England. While he was there he heard from 
 the doctor whom he had left in charge of the 
 hospital in Labrador, that Pomiuk was better. 
 A good Moravian missionary had, late in the fall, 
 come to the hospital where Pomiuk lay, bringing 
 with him another poor Eskimo who had been 
 accidentally shot through the elbow joint. The 
 sea froze as soon as he arrived and so he also 
 
The Rescue 
 
 95 
 
 POMIUK OUT-OF-DOORS. INDI'AN HARBOR. SUMMER OF If 
 
 had to stay near the Httle hospital in the woods, 
 until sledge traveling should permit his return 
 to his station. After talking to Pomiuk about 
 the Saviour, he had baptized him and according 
 
p6 Pomiuk 
 
 to the beautiful Moravian custom, as the sign 
 of his new Hfe in Christ Jesus, given him the 
 new name of "Gabriel," the name of the angel 
 of comfort in the New Testament. 
 
 Among the American children who became in- 
 terested in Pomiuk was a group of boys in a large 
 church in Cambridge, who called themselves the 
 Captains of Ten, because they were trying to 
 be captains of their ten fingers. They met to- 
 gether every Friday in three squads to do whit- 
 tling and wood carving. The money which they 
 earned by the sale of their handicraft and of 
 their interesting annual entertainments was given 
 to the causes in which they were interested. The 
 first money that Doctor Grenfell received from 
 them for Pomiuk was $5.92 which they had 
 earned themselves. 
 
 The doctor sent Mr. Martin a picture of the 
 little hut which was used as a hospital, with 
 Pomiuk in front and Mr. Manasseh and Mrs. 
 Manasseh, the kind Eskimo people who had been 
 helping take care of him. This letter was ac- 
 companied by one from Pomiuk, which he dic- 
 tated to the doctor, but which he signed him- 
 self, and to which he added with his own hand, 
 rude emblems of Faith, Hope and Love — that 
 
The Rescue p^ 
 
 for Hope, being an anchor, he produced more 
 successful!}'- than the others! 
 
 "Corner Cot, Indian Harbor Hospital 
 "Aukshenai Martin: I got your letter. I 
 very glad to see you. Me like to see Ad:artin. I 
 very glad Doctor Grenfell come back. I put flag 
 up doctor come back. Me all right. I'm happy 
 Christmas. Me got shirt, Mrs. Wilson. Plenty 
 sweets. I got new name now. Mr. Shultse Gabriel 
 me. I got picture book. Thank you picture book. 
 [A fit of laughter!] Me stop sister hospital all 
 summer. Me got lame, can't walk. Me learn. 
 Love Martin. Me 
 
 ^f^^^^^iAxl.?ON\\\J^. 
 
 As soon as Doctor Grenfell got back to Labra- 
 dor he began to look for Pomiuk. The doctor 
 went north on board of an old boat, loaded M^ith 
 lumber, in which he made a dangerous passage 
 from Newfoundland to Labrador. This was the 
 way he found Pomiuk, who had been once again 
 brought out of the winter hut to the summer 
 hospital at Indian Harbor island, on the outside 
 coast : 
 
 "As I steamed in here I noticed a flag stuck out 
 of the window of the hospital. It was white, with 
 my red cross on it, and with the glasses we could 
 see that it was tied onto a crutch! ! ! I guessed 
 it must be Pomiuk's flag, and so it proved. The 
 patients in the ward told me he ate no dinner when 
 
gS Pomiuk 
 
 he heard we were in the offing, and the poor little 
 chap was almost crying with pleasure. He really 
 has more affection than I credited the whole Es- 
 kimoi race with before. He had carved me two 
 little bony tokens, Hope and Love. I read him 
 your letter. He chimed in with 'ah' or 'aila' or 
 'mai,' periodically. The lad seems as happy as can 
 te, laughing merrily over almost any happy thing, 
 as a Christian ought to do." 
 
Ipomluh fn IRinb Ibanbs 
 
 L.otC. 
 
V 
 
 POMIUK IN KIND HANDS 
 
 The; next winter Doctor Grenfell visited Amer- 
 ica again on his way to England and one of the 
 first places he visited was the church where the 
 Captains of Ten meet. He gave them a talk one 
 evening and one of the members described it as 
 follows : 
 
 "He began by saying, *I am a Captain, too!' 
 He then drew on the blackboard a map of Labra- 
 dor, and all through his talk drew pictures of 
 ships, tents, Eskimos, seals and walruses. He 
 told us all about the linding of Pomiuk and drew 
 a picture of the interior of the tent in which he 
 was found. He was lying on the cold stones, 
 with only a blanket (reindeer skin) over him. The 
 boys of the club enjoyed the talk very greatly and 
 showed the speaker as much by their hearty clap- 
 ping." 
 
 The doctor quoted these lines about Christ's 
 way of doing good, which he said he kept posted 
 up in the Sir Donald, where all the crew could 
 
102 Pomiuk 
 
 read them. I think they are Doctor Grenf ell's 
 own life motto : 
 
 "He did tilings so kindly; 
 
 It seemed his heart's delight 
 To make poor people happy, 
 
 From morning until night. 
 
 "He always seemed at leisure 
 
 For every one who came; 
 However tired or busy, 
 
 They found HIM just the same!" 
 
 By this time a great many children were giv- 
 ing help to Pomiuk. Mr. Martin promised each 
 one who would send him ten cents a printed 
 certificate, containing Pomiuk's picture, and a 
 great many dimes came in answer. One boy 
 gave part of the money he had earned for Christ- 
 mas. In another Sunday-school ten children 
 were given a cent apiece in the infant room. 
 These little tots, some of them only four years 
 old, went to work at once to invest their money 
 and made as much as they could. They sold 
 candy, pop-corn, etc., and at the end of the week 
 brought back $1.31. One of the most unique 
 ways by which money was earned for the cot 
 was by a boy named Louis, who sent in funds 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands 
 
 103 
 
 SISTER WILLIAMS AND THE CORNER COT, INDIAN HARBOR 
 
 HOSPITAL, FALL OF 1896 ; POMIUK's CRUTCH AND 
 
 RED CROSS SIGNAL 
 
104 Pomiuk 
 
 which were the proceeds of a rabbit which he 
 caught in his rabbit trap. 
 
 It was decided to call the bed on which Pomiuk 
 rested the "Corner Cot,'"' and so they printed this 
 name over the head of it, and took his picture in 
 the bed, with the nurse beside him. Doctor Gren- 
 fell said, "It was as difficult to photograph Po- 
 miuk as a running dog. It was like smothering 
 a volcano." By this time some other children 
 had been brought to the hospital. Tommy, a little 
 lad of nine, with a diseased spine and paralyzed 
 legs, and Elsie, a little girl of five, with a hip dis- 
 eased like Pomiuk's. 
 
 Gabriel was like most of the Eskimo — very 
 musical. He practiced on his bugle until he gave 
 Tommy a headache. "I never saw such a boy," 
 said Gabriel, disappointed at Tommy's lack of 
 musical appreciation. 
 
 Eittle Elsie, whom the doctor called his "little 
 old woman, aged five," was not always a model 
 child, but after she had disturbed the others until 
 it was necessary to put her in a room by herself, 
 she would always ask the Sister to "begive" her, 
 and then when she had been "begiven" she would 
 say, "I's been peasing Satan to-day." 
 
 Here is Pomiuk's next letter: — 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands 105 
 
 "Aukshenai Martin : I'm glad to get letter. Naku- 
 meek anginallumeek (thank you very much indeed). 
 Me like more letter. I'm glad bicycle pictures. 
 You want my picture. You got my picture here. 
 I want some more Martin picture. You ask him 
 aukshenai his ladies, Mr. Smith, Mr. Vincent. I'm 
 glad to-morrow I'm going to Battle Harbor, I 
 suppose. Sister too. Dis man here, sick mani, 
 George (a lad with double pneumonia now get- 
 ting better) George sing 'Shelf behind the door.' 
 I'm sing Takpanele. By and by me learn crutches. 
 I'm glad (he means happy) all the time. I'm in 
 bath in the morning all the time. Nice, warm. You 
 got a bath? Me want you come to Battle Har- 
 bor. You come and see me (and) Sister, please. 
 Me make little komatik (dog-sledge) for you next 
 year, I suppose. Yesterday Sunday. A fine sing 
 yesterday (he came to service and lay on the top 
 of a chest of drawers). I can't go out now, too 
 cold. I'm very laughing. Goodby, Mr Martin. 
 Sister put me to bed now. Me Gabriel Pomiuk 
 Grenfell, please. Dat's all. [A fit of laughter.] 
 
 Winter again set in, the sea began to freeze 
 and Pomiuk was now removed in the hospital 
 steamer to Battle Harbor, which is 200 miles 
 further south, and which is kept open all the year 
 round. So now he had no need to move again. 
 Pomiuk also wrote Mr. Martin again this spring. 
 
 "Battle Harbor Hospital, Labrador, 
 "March 20, 1897. 
 "Aukshenai Mr. Martin: I am glad that 
 you sent me a book. I am very sorry I got no 
 
io6 Pomiuk 
 
 letter at all. I am a lot better now, and I walk 
 about on my crutches. Sister make me trousers 
 and slippers. I very glad. Sister teach me letters 
 and writing. Me got a fine Christmas time, sweets, 
 cake and book in the morning. Lot of little girls 
 and boys got a tea. We had a big Christmas tree. 
 Sister gave Tommy and me Jack-in-the-box. I 
 opened box. I very frightened, and they all laugh 
 very much. Room very, very pretty, lots of can- 
 dles in lanterns, next day lot of people came to 
 tea. After tea lot of singing. I sing Takpanele, 
 I would like to see you here Christmas day. Tommy 
 and me learn 'There is a better world they say.' 
 I very sori"y Dr. Grenfell stop in England this 
 year. I want a letter more, please. You got 
 my photograph? Thank you very much for the 
 book we got. Aukshenai, Mr. Martin. Gabriel 
 Pomiuk." 
 
 Doctor Grenfell had left Labrador much later 
 than usual the previous fall. He had many sick 
 folk to attend to and when he had finished per- 
 forming an operation necessary to save the life 
 of a boy, he returned on shipboard at four o'clock 
 in the morning just in time to get out of the 
 harbor before it froze up. When morning came 
 the harbor was a solid sheet of ice, so that the 
 people talked for the next few days of the nar- 
 row escape the doctor had from being frozen in. 
 On crossing the Strait of Belle Isle a rivet blew 
 out of the engine of the Sir Donald, and the 
 engineer narrowly escaped. The little steamer 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands lOf 
 
 was at the mercy of the wind and waves. Fortu- 
 nately a St. John's steamer hove in sight and 
 towed them into a neighboring harbor on the 
 Newfoundland shore. Gabriel wrote Dr. Gren- 
 fell in the winter as follows : 
 
 "Battle Harbor, Feb'y 6i\\, 1897. 
 "Aukshenai Dr. Grenfell : 
 
 "I'm very glad that I can walk with crutches 
 now. not much yet. Sister very good, make 
 me trov/sers. very warm, trowsers hard to make. 
 Sister says me funny shape. Me got a nice little 
 slipper, sister make. She make me a coat soon. 
 Very frightened when me hear 'Sir Donald' almost 
 lost. I am knitting braces. Aukshenai very much, 
 Dr. Grenfell. Gabriel Pomiuk." 
 
 Doctor Grenfell spent the next spring and sum- 
 mer among the fishermen off the coast of Den- 
 mark and Iceland. He took with him his Eskimo 
 canoe, and cruised along among the fleet in it. 
 Pomiuk was very lonesome while he was gone 
 and wrote him this letter: 
 
 "Aukshenai Dr. Grenfell: 'Sir Donald' went 
 away too fast. I want to look at her long time 
 more. Some time in sleep I see you. Dr. Grenfell. 
 I lonesome when you gone away two or three 
 days. I afraid you get lost in 'Sir Donald' be- 
 cause it is very rough, lot of wind and very much 
 snow. Poor little Elsie very fast gone to Father 
 in heaven. I very glad. Nice singing in the night: 
 [Elsie herself sang, as her last song on earth: 
 
To8 Pomiuk 
 
 'Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me. Bless thy little 
 lamb to-night.'] Elsie gone in the next morning. 
 Sister go home next year, me like to go too. Me 
 got a nice time at Christmas. I'm glad I got some- 
 thing Christmas morning when I wake up. Me got 
 a book, sweets, and a cake. Lots of little girls and 
 boys got a tea. It makes them laugh to look at 
 Christmas big tree. Sister gave Tommy and me 
 Jack-in-the-box. I opened box. I very frightened 
 and make some people laugh very much. I make 
 some paper chains very long. Sister put candles in 
 lanterns, all very, very pretty. Next day lots of 
 people come to tea. After tea, lots of singing. I 
 sang Takpanele. Boys say hip, hip, hurrah! for 
 sisters lots of time. I learn, 'There is a better 
 world they say, O ! so bright.' I want a letter by 
 and by, please. Me like to see you next year. 
 I'm sorry you stop home. One night in sleep I 
 see sister with big wings, like gull's wings, only 
 very white and very big. 
 
 "Aukshenai, Dr. Grenfell, very much. 
 
 "Gabriel Pomiuk." 
 
 In his letters to both his friends he tells about 
 the Christmas tree celebration in which he had 
 taken the greatest delight. His nurse describes 
 the way they spent the day : 
 
 "Christmas day has come and gone. We had 
 been very busy for some time past preparing for 
 it. Gabriel made many yards of pink and white 
 paper chains from paper in which the wool was 
 wrapped at Indian Harbor. We cleared the ward 
 and decorated the windows and doors with fir, 
 and hung the chains about in festoons, with Ian- 
 
Pommk in Kind Hands lop 
 
 terns here and there, of which there were twelve. 
 Mr. Pitcher, the schoolmaster, helped me very 
 much, and he and some of the boys went a long 
 way for the fir ; they had to chop away the frozen 
 snow to a good depth before they could get it. 
 Then we had a Christmas tree! Ben Smith, a 
 fisherman, went away very early one morning to 
 get it from the bay, and came back with it in 
 the evening fixed in a block and standing up- 
 right on a komatik. It had to be cut shorter be- 
 fore we could get it in the ward, and then it touched 
 the ceiling. On the tree we placed a few toys, 
 of which there was one for every household, 
 then some wonderful sweets were hung on it, and 
 fairy lamps. Sixty bags were made, in which were 
 some sweets and biscuits — one for each child. 
 Early Christmas morning everybody round about 
 received a Christmas letter, sent to us by the 
 Christmas Letter Mission. One man jumped for 
 joy at receiving the first letter he had ever had 
 in his life, and begged some one to read it to him 
 at once. We went to church in the morning and 
 sang old Christmas hymns, and heard the old story 
 read of the Saviour's birth. It was very cold, 
 i8 degrees below zero, or 50 degrees of frost. 
 The day before it was 20 degrees below. Out- 
 side my sitting-room door in the hall, the ther- 
 mometer was 14 degrees. I think we ought to 
 have a stove in the hall, one that will keep the 
 fire in day and night. At 4.30 we had forty-nine 
 children and some of their mothers come to tea. 
 The room and the tree, when lighted up, was a 
 wonderful sight to them all. Gabriel fairly 
 screamed and clapped his hands with delight. It 
 was delightful to see them so happy. Some of 
 them were so taken with it all that no coaxing 
 
no Pomiuk 
 
 would make them take any tea. Went to service 
 again in the evening. The next day we had 
 another tea for the big boys and grown-up people. 
 After tea we had a lot of singing, recitations, and 
 a little talk. Gabriel sang four Eskimo hymns, 
 much to the delight of everybody." 
 
 The good nurse, .Miss Williams, also wrote to 
 
 Mr, Martin when she sent Gabriel's letter, as 
 
 follows : 
 
 "Dear Mr. Martin: Gabriel was so delighted 
 to get the book you sent him. He has been looking 
 out for the mail man and said, 'Me get letter from 
 Mr. Martin.' He looked very serious when he 
 found there was no letter with the book, but said, 
 'I suppose he write next time.' He wanted to 
 write off at once to you. Here is his letter. He 
 dictated it to me first, then he copied that which 
 I had written. Has he not got on well with his 
 writing? A lady asked me if Gabriel loved Jesus. 
 I put the question to him and he said, 'Tell lady 
 I love Jesus very much.' 
 
 "Although we have had the most severe winter 
 that any one can remember, yet it has been a very 
 happy one and the time has passed quickly. I have 
 been very busy at times. Up to the present I 
 have had 104 out patients. Then nearly every 
 evening I have had classes. Pray that our work 
 may be abundantly blessed. Yours in the Master's 
 service, Cecilia W." 
 
 Sister Cecilia's remarks about the cold remind 
 
 one of the statement of a fisherman, that "it was 
 
 so cold in Labrador that his skipper's orders froze 
 
 as he gave them and they had to wait for the 
 
9pommk in Kind Hands iii 
 
 weather to moderate to thaw them out so as to 
 understand them." 
 
 Doctor Grenfell was very busy all summer in 
 his cruise among the English sailors, and once or 
 twice he was in considerable danger and hard- 
 ship. You can picture some of his experiences 
 by reading this letter: 
 
 "My dear Mr. Martin: Here we are, but where 
 that is it is difficult to say, for we have had for 
 six days head wind and thick fog. We are some- 
 where between Iceland and Faroe — no sights for 
 six days and no soundings. As I had not received 
 any letters since June 2nd, I am penning you this 
 letter in entire ignorance of all intercurrent events. 
 I've just been wishing with all my heart that you 
 could peep into our snug little cabin. It is so 
 snug compared with the deck, where the thick, 
 damp fog makes it cold and lonely, and where, 
 in the intervals of listening for the rote of the 
 sea on the rocks (for we think we are near the 
 Faroe group of islands), the monotonous blasts of 
 the fog horn serve to break the still more monot- 
 onous clump, clump, clump of the heavy sea-boots 
 of the first night-watch on the decks. A bright 
 fire is burning, at which I have just brewed a 
 steaming cup of cocoa. Our lamps are brightly 
 lighted, which is especially homely, for during 
 these past two months we have enjoyed daylight 
 all night. All is quiet — the skipper sits reading 
 his evening chapter on the locker and the star- 
 board watch is turned in. Now you have a com- 
 plete picture of us. I wonder what you are doing 
 in your little snuggery and all your 'Cornerers' ! 
 
112 Pomiuk 
 
 "But stop — here is another picture I must send 
 you. Perhaps it will please your Cornerers. It is 
 of 'Joey,' a little pet seal I have on board. I was 
 walking- on the beach the other day when I saw the 
 little fellow sunning himself on the stones. He 
 was almost a month old, and therefore quite ready 
 to leave his mother. So I took him in my arms 
 and put him in our boat. He is such a tame little 
 fellow. If we leave him forward alone, he comes 
 waddling aft, till he gets close to the helmsman at 
 the wheel — indeed so close that he has to 'move 
 on' or the spokes would hit him. He is so fat he 
 can sleep anyhow — on his back, side or face — 
 though with the rolling of the vessel is apt to roll 
 over like a ninepin into the lee scupper, unless he 
 gets fixed against something. When we hold up 
 a piece of fish he comes waddling after it. He can- 
 not bite very well, but he sucks it down. He often 
 takes such a long time and makes such grimaces 
 over it that he sets us all a-laughing! I wish we 
 had little Pomiuk to play with him !" 
 
 Pomiuk was by this time getting better. Doc- 
 tor Willway, who was taking care of him this 
 summer, had fitted him up with some crutches, 
 and he and little Tommy spent many merry after- 
 noons out on the porch of the hospital. Miss 
 Williams, the nurse, describes Tommy as follows : 
 
 "His home is on an island about a mile from Bat- 
 tle. He has spinal disease ; both legs are completely 
 paralyzed ; he is much deformed, but he has a sweet 
 little face. He was admitted in the fall of 1895. 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands ii^ 
 
 He is quite a companion for our boy Gabriel. 
 They had only one quarrel through the winter and 
 that was as to which was the worse — each thought 
 himself worse than the other. G. could not walk 
 with his crutches till spring. Now he goes well 
 with them. 
 
 "The poor Httle fellow did not at first like the 
 transfer to Battle Harbor. Sometimes I found 
 him crying about it. Dr. Grenfell wrote him a 
 letter in which he said he did not like little boys 
 . who cried and there was no more crying until the 
 morning I left (to return to Indian Harbor). 
 Then I found him hidden under the bedclothes, 
 having a good cry. To remind him of Dr. Grenfell 
 was enough. When we were going he was look- 
 ing out of the window with flag in hand. He put 
 his hand over his shoulder and held mine tightly, 
 but would not let me see his face, — he was so 
 brave ! ... I do not think he should have too 
 many tfiings for himself. We do not wish him to 
 grow up selfish and to expect people to send him 
 things. If he has had two things alike, I have 
 remarked about other boys not having one. A boy 
 came into the hospital one day and Gabriel asked 
 him if he had a boat. Later on I saw the boy leav- 
 ing the hospital with one of G's boats." 
 
 Almost all the Eskimo people are selfish. They 
 have so little that it is hard for them to learn to 
 share it. When Pomiuk was at the World's Fair 
 he learned to like money as well as American 
 children do, and he demanded a five cent piece 
 every time he did one of his little tricks, but 
 under the gentle influence of the good English 
 
114 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
 POMIUK AND TOMMY, BATTLE HARBOR HOSPITAL, 
 SPRING 1897 
 
 nurse, he learned to love to share his gifts from 
 the American boys and girls with others. On the 
 day after Christmas the nurse brought to him 
 a candy cane, saying, "There is a sweet walking 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands 175 
 
 stick for you, Gabriel," and immediately went 
 out. In her room on the other side of the par- 
 tition she soon heard a low, but earnest, con- 
 versation between Gabriel and Tommy. When 
 she went in, there was the sweet walking stick 
 broken in two. On inquiry Gabriel said that he 
 had thrown half of it to Tommy's cot and that 
 Tommy had thrown it back. 
 
 "But," she said, "I gave it to you." 
 "Yes," said the little cripjDle, "I didn't want 
 to be selfish; I wanted Tommy to have half of 
 it, but he says it belongs to me." 
 
 Then she explained to both that she hoped 
 Gabriel would, of his own accord, share the gift 
 with the other. He had learned his lesson. Po- 
 miuk was not only generous and always happy, 
 but he was very gentle and lovable and all the 
 doctors and nurses grew very fond of him. He 
 was especially grateful to Mr. Martin who had 
 interested the American children in him and who 
 was always sending him thoughtful presents by 
 which he could pass away the time. You can see 
 one of Pomiuk's plans to show his generosity in 
 the following letter : 
 
 "Dear Mr. Martin : — I write you on my desk to 
 thank you for it very much. I love the paint 
 
ii6 Pomiuk 
 
 books very much and Tommy loves his too. He 
 will write to you again sometime. I send you 
 komatik and rackets. Perhaps I shall ride on 
 komatik in winter. Sister says in a coach box. 
 We shall have Sunday-school in hospital in the 
 winter — all children come here. Tommy and I go 
 down in kitchen and learn with them. Thank you 
 for your picture, but I want to see your face. 
 Aukshenai to little boy and you Mr. Martin, 
 from 
 
 Gabriel Pomiuk." 
 
 The "komatik" and "rackets" were toy models 
 which Pomiuk with infinite pains had devised 
 
 komatikj made by pomiuk and sent to 
 "mr. martin" 
 
 and whittled out himself as a Christmas present 
 for Mr. Martin. A student at Boston University 
 who was spending- the summer in Labrador 
 brought them to Mr. Martin and you may be 
 certain he cherishes them as they lie among his 
 many other treasures in the children's cabinet 
 of his Conversation Corner. "Dear boy !" said he, 
 when they came, "how much of love as well 
 as of skill the little cripple's hands put into this 
 token of his affection !" 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands Jif 
 
 Gabriel was not only fond of playing his bugle, 
 
 but also of singing and he had, for a little boy, 
 
 quite a sweet voice. One of the first hymns he 
 
 ever learned became his favorite and he sung it 
 
 more often than any other. The words were as 
 
 follows : 
 
 Takpanele ! Takpanele ! 
 Merngotoryikangilak, 
 Siorniorvikarane. 
 ' Takpanele ! Takpanele ! 
 
 Pillorikpagut ilia 
 Sorairata. 
 
 The meaning of these words is: 
 
 Up in heaven! up in heaven! 
 There will be no sorrow there, 
 There will be no parting there. 
 Up in heaven! up in heaven! 
 We shall all be happy there 
 Forevermore. 
 
 He taught this same hymn to others. Little 
 Elsie had learned how to sing from him, and 
 Gabriel wrote of her sickness as you have read: 
 "Poor little Elsie, very fast gone to Father in 
 heaven. Nice singing in the night. Elsie gone 
 in the morning." Another of his favorites was, 
 " Jesus bids us shine with a clear, pure light," 
 which as he learned English he interpreted as 
 follows: "You in your schmall corner; Tommy 
 
ii8 Pomiuk 
 
 in that corner, me in my corner, you in your room 
 in your corner," 
 
 Doctor Grenfell, of course, used to talk with 
 Gabriel about God and goodness. You know our 
 fathers when they were children were taught 
 divine things by means of the catechism, of which 
 they were not very fond, because it contained so 
 many hard words. But the Eskimo language, 
 though rather simple, has some long words also. 
 The doctor told me that once he was trying to 
 teach Pomiuk the need of forgiveness and in do- 
 ing so he had to make this remark : "Tsuniagitau- 
 tungnaenekarasuartsainartukauialloarpaliulleaior- 
 niptinjuit;" which interpreted is, "But we must 
 always try to have our sins forgiven." One 
 word of sixty-eight letters! 
 
 "Wouldn't that knock a boy off a stool, don't 
 you think?" exclaimed Doctor Grenfell. 
 
 At that rate it wouldn't take long, one would 
 suppose, to use up the whole language. 
 
 Must n't it be rather hard, too, to teach the 
 beautiful Bible thoughts to a people who have no 
 word for love, none for sheep, seedtime or harvest, 
 fruit-tree or corn, gold or silver? Yet Christ- 
 like lives have explained to them what mere words 
 could not express. 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands up 
 
 Perhaps, too, you would like to know how an 
 Eskimo prescription looks. Here is one that 
 Doctor Grenfell wrote for the nurse about Po- 
 miuk's medicine. 
 
 "Allupsautangiuk Xakpata Gaksariva ^Mer- 
 ingomavit." (A tablespoonful, well shaken, to be 
 swallowed after meals.) 
 
 You can almost picture the little suffering, 
 patient cripple, in the "Corner Cot," enjoying the 
 barren bit of the world to be seen from his win- 
 dow, and sharing his pictures with the other sick 
 boy, and happy in the love that was in his heart. 
 During the ^^ inter days the comfortable American 
 children could well be glad to feel that through 
 their gifts these little ones who would have died 
 of starvation and sickness were warm and cozy 
 and receiving Christian care. And at the close 
 of the short winter days they could think of the 
 little ones saying their prayers, as the nurse knelt 
 in turn by their beds; of their calling out in joy 
 after her absence for a few hours. ''O Sister ! we 
 wanted you so ! We are so glad you are back !" ; 
 almost to listen to their laughter and to know that 
 although they could not run about like other little 
 ones, yet they were well cared for and well loved. 
 
 Dr. Grenfell was always glad when he was in 
 
120 Pomiuk 
 
 America to meet children who knew of Pomiuk 
 and wanted to help him. Two instances have 
 been recorded in the "Conversation Corner" 
 of dear little girls — respectively in Connecticut 
 and North Dakota — whose carefully treasured 
 money had been devoted after their death to the 
 support of the "Corner Cot." One noon, when 
 the doctor was dining in Boston, as he sat 
 down to dinner, he found a five dollar note 
 under his plate. He asked who had contrib- 
 uted it, and he was told, "This is Alice's birth- 
 day. She went around to her friends and rela- 
 tives who usually give her presents, and asked 
 them not to give her any present, but to give 
 her the money for the Labrador Mission." Some 
 kind lady about this time knit a nice warm sweater 
 for a fisherman "by guess." When it arrived it 
 was so big that four men got into it at once ! 
 
 You remember I told you that Dr. Gren- 
 fell was led to give his life for other people by 
 hearing something once said at a meeting in. 
 England by Mr. Moody. He never met Mr. 
 Moody face to face until his first visit to America. 
 He came to the great evangelist then and ex- 
 pressed his gratitude for the help he had been 
 to him. Mr. Moody, in his brusque, practical 
 
Pomiuk in Kind Hands 121 
 
 way, said: "And what are you doing now?" 
 Dr. Grenfell modestly described his work. The 
 result was that Mr. Moody promised his aid, and 
 soon after his death Dr. Grenfell came to North- 
 field and was entertained at his home and by his 
 friends in the very room from which the good 
 man passed so triumphantly to glory, and the 
 church there is supporting a "Northfield Cot" in 
 Dr. Grenfell's hospital. England and Scotland 
 and Canada and even far-away Turkey had bound 
 themselves by a world-round chain of help about 
 the little lame boy. Dr. Grenfell's "precious Lab- 
 radorite." 
 
(Gabriel 
 
VI 
 
 GABRIEL 
 
 WHII.E so many American boys and girls had 
 become interested in Pomiuk and all were much 
 encouraged to know how strong he was getting, 
 it was a very sad shock for them to read in 
 The Congregationalist on the 25th of November, 
 1897, that little Pomiuk was dead. One of the 
 Doctor's colleagues sent the following letter : 
 
 "Battle Harbor Hospital, Labrador. 
 "Dear Mr. Martin : — I am very sorry I must be 
 the conveyer of sad news to you. Gabriel passed 
 away from our midst September 29 at 9 p.m. 
 The shock was one hardly to be realized. On the 
 Friday previous he was out on the veranda, run- 
 ning his fingers over an autoharp, a present from a 
 Moravian missionary, which had just arrived. 
 Little did we think that in a few days his harp 
 would be of richer tone and the chords of un- 
 broken melody ! He complained of headache 
 when he came in on Friday. I thought it might, 
 perhaps, have been the jolting of the gun which I 
 held for him to fire when the steam-launch came 
 into the harbor, with Dr. Willway on board. (He 
 was so excited when he had the opportunity of fir- 
 
126 Pomiuk 
 
 • 
 ing a gun or a Winchester and the accuracy of his 
 aim was remarkable.) The same night he developed 
 a little fever, not unusual for his hip disease, but 
 after treatment felt much better, though not en- 
 tirely well. On Sunday he had a visit from Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ford and their boys from Nachvak, his 
 former home, and although his head was aching, 
 seemed delighted to see them again and make in- 
 quiries about his mother. For the next two days he 
 had the usual aching of muscles and limbs in in- 
 fluenza, which has been through the settlement 
 and hospital. On Wednesday morning he de- 
 veloped meningitis and became unconscious, fits 
 occurring frequently until he passed quietly and 
 peacefully home. Mrs. Aspland (formerly 'Sister 
 Carwardine') and myself were with him constantly. 
 He left no message, because of his unconscious- 
 ness, but on Sunday night, when I took prayers in 
 the ward, he asked for his familiar hymn to be 
 sung: 
 
 'Jesus bids us shine with a clear, pure light, 
 Like a little candle burning in the night; 
 In this world of darkness we cnust shine, 
 You in your small corner, I in mine.' 
 
 Shine he did! His unselfishness and amiable dis- 
 position made every one love him, and his mem- 
 ory will be fresh in many hearts for years to come. 
 . . . The photographs arrived, and we have 
 put them over the 'Corner Cot.' Tommy has been 
 in it until this evening, when it is taken by a little 
 boy five years old, whom we have had in a plaster 
 of Paris jacket all summer for spinal disease, and 
 on whom I have just operated. He may be able 
 to go home in a week or two. Tommy sends his 
 very kind love. He was very much pleased with 
 
Gabriel i2f 
 
 the pictures. Pomiuk bubbled over with laughter 
 when the magic box was shown him." 
 
 Doctor Willway also wrote as follows : 
 
 " • . . We cannot be sorry for him. He 
 has exchanged a hfe of feebleness for that full life 
 beyond. The Lord Jesus was very real to him ; he 
 loved so much to hear of Him as the Good Shep- 
 herd — now he has taken him to himself. The hos- 
 pital seems very desolate to me now. I miss the 
 happy smiling face and several times have wan- 
 dered) up into the ward, only to remember that he 
 is not there and that we shall no more hear his 
 ringing, joyous laugh. Tommy, our little para- 
 lyzed boy, will miss him much — they were great 
 friends. 
 
 "Doctor Aspland buried him on Sunday in the 
 churchyard here. For ourselves we are sorry to 
 lose such a happy laddie ; he was an example and 
 comfort to all who came into the hospital. For 
 him we can only rejoice: he endured bravely and 
 patiently the limitations of a crippled life, and he 
 enjoys his reward. Now he is gone it must be our 
 duty and joy to seek to brighten other clouded 
 lives and bring into their hearts the sunshine of 
 our Saviour's love. Frederick R. Willway." 
 
 And Dr. Grenfell said : 
 
 "Bleak Labrador will seem just a little bleaker 
 for the closing of the short chapter of that little 
 fellow's Hfe." 
 
 In a sheltered hollow in the little mission grave- 
 yard, where others wearied and worn had been 
 laid after all their pain and sorrow were over, 
 
128 Pomiuk 
 
 they laid the Httle body of the brave prince and 
 put on his resting-place the new name by which 
 he is known in heaven — "Gabriel," which means 
 "man of God." That night the mysterious au- 
 rora hung in the far north, its banners gleaming 
 like the festival illuminations of a royal city. 
 The Eskimo watch it with awe and call it "the 
 dead at play." But to the sad, yet faithful, Chris- 
 tian eyes that looked upon it, it was the shining 
 symbol of the joy in the City of God on high 
 that another young soldier of Jesus Christ had 
 won his way home to his King, the Good Shep- 
 herd. 
 
IPomfuk's dFrienbs 
 
VII 
 
 POMIUK'S FRIENDS 
 
 Many American children were almost broken- 
 hearted at. the sad news. In one Sunday-school 
 the children were told that Gabriel would need 
 their help no more because he was now well and 
 strong and oh, so happy, and that perhaps the 
 angel Gabriel had been sent to carry him home. 
 The change in the children's faces when they 
 knew that it was heaven and not the earth that 
 held him was a study and a lesson. At once 
 Mr. Martin decided that Gabriel's cot should be 
 kept filled and he asked his young friends if they 
 would send their money for the little bed, which 
 was hereafter to be called the "Gabriel-Pomiuk 
 Memorial Cot." People always learn to love that 
 to which they give, so you will be glad to know 
 that the money has been sent every year since 
 then, and that the little cot has been constantly 
 filled. 
 
 It is pleasant to know that the story is not 
 
132 Pomiuk 
 
 finished yet. Little Tommy was the first to take 
 Gabriel's place. The nurse, whom we know as 
 Sister Carwardine but who soon became the wife 
 of one of the mission doctors, wrote in the sum- 
 mer: 
 
 "Tommy is well and sends his love. I have 
 given him dear little Gabriel's magic box and he 
 finds great delight in it. We have several more 
 children in now. It is wonderful what a happy 
 little fellow he is. Sometimes when he is quite 
 alone I hear him singing and clapping his hands, 
 and when I ask what all the noise is about he says, 
 'I am so happy, Sister, I must make a noise !' 
 Surely God's ways are wonderful to a little cripple 
 lying in the same position from one year to an- 
 other and not being able to move at all. It is not 
 the same as if he had always been so. Up to four 
 years ago he was the most active and most mis- 
 chievous boy on the island." 
 
 He too was baptized and confirmed, when the 
 hospital was visited by the Bishop of the English 
 Church of Newfoundland. He wrote two letters 
 about this time, which in his painstaking way 
 took two or three days to compose, one to Mr. 
 Martin and one to a lady in Rochester, who had 
 sent him a picture. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Martin: — Thank you very much for 
 your letter. This is Sunday. The Doctor and 
 Sister are gone to church. I am in Gabriel's cot. 
 He ia happy now in Heaven. I should like to be 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 133 
 
 there too. I have a Httle boy on the side of me 
 with a sore leg hke Gabriel had. I thank you for 
 the picture. I like it very much. I had the 
 measles this summer and 3 more boys. Sister 
 will soon be going away. The Doctor is going to 
 Cape charles to-morrow. I try to be a better boy 
 every day. Your friend 
 
 "Tommy." 
 
 "... Thank you very much for the cats. 
 I like Tommy best. I feel better this spring. The 
 sores are better. I saw Julia sheriden (the medi- 
 cal steamer) and Sir Donald coming. Dr. Will- 
 way, Dr. Massey, Miss Windell came. I am glad 
 to see them. I help Sister to sing hymns in 
 prayers. Got three little boys here and a girl. I 
 miss Gabriel very much in the winter. I'd like to 
 be as good as Gabriel. I send my cats to Arthur 
 (the boy with hip disease, "like Gabriel") to look 
 at, he was not long come from the operation. I 
 am in the cot Gabriel was in, in the Corner cot. T 
 am thirteen years old. My birthday is on St. 
 Stephen's Day. I wish I was as good as he. I 
 can see the wharf from my window and all the ves- 
 sels that come in and Mr. Hall's men to work. 
 My father is crippled in the hospital here, and my 
 mother is dead. I am happy here and love Jesus, 
 he makes me happy. 
 
 "Good by, with Tommy's love." 
 
 Again the brave boy wrote : 
 
 "I have big sores on me. But I am very happy. 
 I think of Jesus very much now, and how he suf- 
 fered much more pain for me, and that always 
 helps me." 
 
 In June, 1900, little Tommy died and one of 
 
TS4 Pomiuk 
 
 the doctors had to write another sad letter to Mr. 
 Martin. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Martin: — It is with a sorrow I cannot 
 express I am forced to inform you that the 'Gabriel- 
 Pomiuk Cot' is again empty. Tommy left us on 
 April 4, after five months of great suffering. You 
 know something already of his illness. He came 
 to us four and a half years ago, suffering from 
 spinal disease, covered with bed-sores, and his 
 limbs so contracted that his knees almost touched 
 his chin. After about a year he got well of this; 
 although paralyzed in his limbs, he was otherwise 
 well and, as he has told you in his letters able to 
 get about in his cart. This little cart, the gift of a 
 kind friend, made his last summer no doubt the 
 happiest he has ever spent. .He was out almost 
 daily and attended day school and Sunday-school 
 as well as the Sunday service. He had no pain or 
 sickness of any kind, except the paralysis. After 
 I left for my winter travels last November, he got 
 a severe chill one- Sunday afternoon, coming from 
 school. He could not eat his tea and fever set in; 
 a fresh tubercular disease started in his spine again. 
 When I returned in February, I could hardly be- 
 lieve it to be the same 'Tommy', his face was so 
 pinched and his body a mere skeleton. How glad 
 he was to see us ! Everything was done for him ; 
 he was attended day and night. 
 
 "At first Tommy was always asking if he could 
 not get better, but v^^hen we had to tell him that he 
 would not be better, he took it very quietly. For 
 weeks before his death, he anticipated it with joy. 
 Some nights when I would say good night to him 
 after prayer, he would say, T wonder whether He 
 is coming to me to-night' — I thought he wished he 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 755 
 
 would. He came at last, with great quietness. 
 The little boy slept, and is now 'alive forevermore.' 
 
 "I need hardly tell you that we felt his loss very 
 keenly, A more loving disposition I never knew. 
 He was not without faults and boyish tempers, but 
 there was a strong and loving desire to do right 
 and good. Like all bed-ridden children he was 
 much older than his years, and talked often like a 
 grown-up person. His last message to the people 
 was : 'Tell them to love Jesus.' 
 
 "We buried him on April 6th. I was sorry he 
 could not be placed beside Gabriel, for that yard 
 was full, but doubtless they are together in a 
 richer sense. His American flag quilt sent him 
 last year by the Captains of Ten, I buried with 
 him, just before closing the coffin. The magic box 
 and various other little things which the Cornerers 
 have kindly sent him from time to time, were all 
 put in the coffin " 
 
 The American quilt which the doctor speaks of 
 was made by these Captains of Ten in Cambridge, 
 at Dr. Grenfell's suggestion. Thirteen boys were 
 at work upon it, which was very appropriate, be- 
 cause they made thirteen stars. The boys learned 
 how to crochet in order to make it, first practis- 
 ing with green and yellow yarn, and then being 
 given the red and white stripes of worsted. This 
 starry flag, made thick and wadded, covered little 
 Tommy as long as he was sick, and he was buried, 
 like a soldier, beneath it after he was dead. 
 
 Dr. Grenfell was among the fishermen on the 
 
136 
 
 Pomiuk 
 
 Newfoundland shore when Tommy died. He 
 was already planning some more kindnesses for 
 his Labrador children. He had found a family of 
 five half-breed Eskimo children, whose father and 
 
 CAPTAINS OF TEN, CAMBRIDGE, MAKING COVERLET FOR 
 GABRIEL POMIUK COT 
 
 mother died in one week and he was seeking a 
 home for them in America. Up in New Hamp- 
 shire there were a farmer and his wife who lived 
 in a pleasant valley on a lonely road three or four 
 
THE LABRADOR ORPHANS FINDING A HOME IN NEW 
 
 HAMPSHIRE (FREDDIE AND BESSIE SECOND AND 
 
 IHIRD FROM top) 
 
1^8: Pomiuk 
 
 miles from the village. They had one little baby 
 of their own, but they were very anxious to do 
 all the good they could, and as soon as they heard 
 about these poor orphans, through their pictures 
 and Mr. Martin's appeal on his '*Corner'" page, 
 they decided to take one of them. The boy Fred- 
 die, who had been cleaning brasses on Dr. Gren- 
 f ell's new ship, the Strathcona (named for Sir 
 Donald Smith, now worthily made "Lord Strath- 
 cona" by the Queen) was the one selected; but 
 when it was found out that no one claimed his 
 sister Bessie, whose other name was Rachel, they 
 generously decided to take them both. It was 
 December (of 1900) before the two little orphans 
 reached Boston ; Mr. Martin met them there and 
 the next morning started with them on the way 
 to their New Hampshire home. Of that ride he 
 wrote : 
 
 "There was little chance to 'leave any articles in 
 the cars'; their only articles were two small bundles, 
 Bessie's extra clothing being left in the haste of 
 sailing at the shore hospital, and Fred's trunk hav- 
 ing missed the steamer at St. John's. It was a 
 long, slow ride, with biting wind, and mercury 
 below zero. Alfred spent much time in writing 
 words on bits of paper, copying exactly what I 
 wrote for him, or the names of stations which he 
 saw from the window. Bessie hummed tunes 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 139 
 
 which she had somewhere picked up, for both have 
 sweet voices and can play several tunes on the 
 piano, although they had never seen one until they 
 reached Nova Scotia. As we stopped at one sta- 
 tion after another, Fred asked, 'Shall we go ashore 
 at the next place?' Although we left no snow in 
 Massachusetts, it gradually increased as we as- 
 cended the Merrimack valley, and branched off 
 among the hills. When we 'went ashore,' the 
 young farmer who met us at the station packed us 
 snugly into a small sleigh, covered us with blankets 
 and buffaloes and drove us several miles to his 
 home. 
 
 'The horse knew the way to carry the sleigh 
 Through the white and drifted snow.' 
 
 Drifted it certainly was on one long hill, and it took 
 all the farmer's skill as he got out and jumped 
 along beside the sleigh to keep us from capsizing ! 
 We found a warm welcome, a warm fire, and a 
 warm dinner in that little farmhouse, and the chil- 
 dren were happy. They were soon sliding down a 
 small hill on the crust — and we had a capsizing on 
 the sled, if not in the sleigh. I persuaded them at 
 last to go into the barn and see those great, strange 
 animals, the 'coos.' Afterwards, when they were let 
 out to drink, the boy was only easy when he held a 
 whip for self-defence, but when they started for the 
 spring he followed them, brandishing his 'vip' and 
 shouting, 'Go doon, go doon !' The corn-fodder 
 on the barn floor attracted them and Bessie called 
 the husks 'sinews,' reminding her of the sinews of 
 the deer which her people use for thread. I 
 showed them an ear of corn. 'Oh, how beautiful!' 
 said Fred. 'They are like beads,' said Bessie. 
 Both were surprised that out of those 'beads' 
 
140 Pomiuk 
 
 were made the muffins they had eaten for break- 
 fast. 
 
 "And so I left them (the next day), full of cheer 
 and promise in their new home among the Granite 
 Hills, with old Ascutney just showing his head 
 through a notch in the western range." 
 
 A year later Dr. Grenfell on his way from Mon- 
 treal to Boston called to see the children and 
 when he found that the parents were poor and 
 had a child of their own, he couldn't help saying 
 to the mother, "What made you take two more 
 children of some one else's?" 
 
 "Why," she answered, "I felt life was passing 
 away and I was hungry at heart to do something 
 for Jesus. I prayed about it ever so much and 
 when at last I saw the story of Freddie and 
 Bessie in The Congregationalist, I knew the good 
 Lord meant me to take them." 
 
 They were so happy in their New England 
 home. One day last summer I went to a "Grange 
 Picnic" beside a New Hampshire pond. After 
 dinner there was speech-making. The orators 
 sat on a low platform among the trees. One 
 of them was the governor; beside them sat the 
 chairman, who was a sweet- faced woman. Pretty 
 soon, while an eminent Westerner was speaking, 
 the chairman's little child came climbing up on 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 
 
 141 
 
 the platform and crept up in his mother's lap 
 to have a sliver pulled out of his bare foot. This 
 mother was the one who took the orphan Eskimo 
 children, and there they were, Freddie and Bessie, 
 
 KIKKINA AS TAKEN INTO THE 
 
 frolicking about the woods like strong young 
 Indians. 
 
 The Memorial Cot has also been continually 
 filled with sufferers and often it contains a little 
 child. There was a little girl, named Kirkina, 
 (Kir-kee'-na) who was brought to Dr. Grenfell, 
 
142 Pomiuk 
 
 little more than a mass of rags. "An animated 
 pen-wiper," Dr. Grenfell called her. When she 
 was two years old she crawled out of the house 
 one cold winter day, and while waiting for her 
 father froze both her feet. The circulation was 
 never restored and the legs, which had become 
 dead, were cut off by the father with an axe. 
 She was a wild thing, like a bear's cub, hiding 
 herself in the bedclothes when he came near. 
 She could speak only in Eskimo, but she was 
 bright and pretty and in good health in spite of 
 her crippled condition. Now of course the 
 American children must work together to get her 
 some artificial feet, and very soon these were 
 furnished to her. She was delighted. "Me's 
 not 's'amed now, Sister," she exclaimed proudly. 
 It was rather hard for her to get used to them, 
 for she was such a healthy child that she was 
 almost as broad as she was long; and oftentimes 
 the Doctor would hear her cry that "her legs 
 were broken" and he would have to go and set 
 her up on them again, when they had suddenly 
 given out. She also began to write letters to 
 Mr. Martin, and here is one of them. 
 
 "March the 8 1902 
 "Dear MR martin i was so glad with the doll that 
 
Pomiuk's Priends 
 
 143 
 
 you sent me i was overjoyed on Christmas sister 
 had such a grand party for all of us children my 
 doll was present we had a Christmas tree and such 
 
 KIRKINA S DOLL 
 
 a lot of toys that sandy claus gave us children all 
 a present myself a noas ark and a bag of candy 
 each we all love sister doctor for making our Christ- 
 mas so joyful and thank these who was so kind to 
 
144 Pomiuk 
 
 send so many toys and I thank very much for such 
 a nice doll i just love her and I knows she loves me 
 and I will take care of her i have her away afraid i 
 may break her on my comatic 
 
 "now i must tell you about my legs that the doc- 
 tor has made for me i can walk to sunday school 
 and go on messages for sister it seems nice for me 
 to be able to walk on feet was it not good of the 
 doctor to make me a pair of legs you see I am their 
 own little girl now please mr martin excuse my 
 writing i am only in one book so you see i cannot 
 writ thank you for your picture it was good of you 
 to think of me i must close i will writ longer next 
 time good by mr martin from your friend, 
 
 "Kirkina" 
 
 This happy outlook of a child is also seen in 
 a remark made by an American little girl in a 
 New Hampshire Sunday-school into which Mr. 
 Martin dropped one Sunday. While he was tell- 
 ing the story of Kirkina this child put up her 
 hand for something she had to say. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "That little girl won't have cold feet any 
 more!" 
 
 A lady in Massachusetts sent her a doll which 
 had been the family pet for two generations. 
 It had had three new heads and many new cos- 
 tumes, but it was just as good as new. Strange 
 to say, this dolly, as soon as it reached Labra- 
 dor, caught the fever for writing letters and wrote 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 145 
 
 back the following letter about her mistress, Kir- 
 kina : 
 
 "Dear Cornerers : — Do you remember the doll 
 that was sent to Kirkina last summer? Well, I 
 am that doll. Would like to tell you all the 
 strange things which have happened to me since I 
 left Boston, but my feelings overcome me at the 
 recollection. I will only say that after months of 
 knocking about in different ships and in strange 
 places I reached my home at last, about a week 
 ago. I was introduced to my new mistress before 
 I had recovered from the effect of my travels. 
 But she secerned to think nothing of my crushed 
 appearance ; and said, 'Oh, a dolly — she got teeth ! 
 Oh, she go to sleep !' Then after looking me over 
 carefully, she exclaimed, 'Oh, she got clothes ! she 
 got hair !' 
 
 "While she was examining me I looked at her, 
 and I saw such a strange-looking little girl. She 
 had a very dark skin, and I afterward found she is 
 part Eskimo. She is quite stout, but she is very 
 short ; in fact, she is almost as broad as she is long. 
 I then saw that she had no feet, and that she walks 
 on her knees. Dr. McPherson is making artificial 
 feet and legs for her, which will be ready in a few 
 weeks. 
 
 "There are four other little girls here just now, 
 one of whom I was quite surprised to find was 
 Bessie B's cousin on her way to join Bessie in New 
 Hampshire. Another was Billy Clark's sister, 
 who is to join Billy in England. The other two 
 little girls will stay here for the winter. One is 
 a patient, but Clara has no home and is waiting for 
 somebody to give her one. She is a dear little girl 
 and as she likes to play with me, Kirkina lends me 
 
146 Pomiuk 
 
 to her often. I am sending photographs of Clara, 
 Kirkina, and myself. I have written you such a 
 long letter that I really feel in need of an afternoon 
 nap. 
 
 "Kirkina's Dolly Daisy. 
 "Battle Harbor, Labrador, Nov. 9." 
 
 Kirkina has lately been taken by a good woman 
 in Halifax and in her new home she is already 
 becoming quite a fine-looking Nova Scotia girl. 
 
 One of the funniest letters that ever came from 
 the Labrador children was from Billy, who 
 was for a time in the hospital and who has been 
 adopted by a family in England; 
 
 "Dear Dr. Grenfell : — How are you getting on ? 
 Poor little Bodie is dead. De dogs bitten her ; all 
 de dogs is down along. He bite Sister's arm, and 
 he well again now. I had lots of stuff pick out to 
 tell he, but I can't remember. I have been good 
 and bad and I go till school now. Billy." 
 
 In describing the suffering of the unfortunate 
 Labrador children, we have not begun to tell you 
 how brave they are, but the following will show 
 what they endure and how they endure it : 
 
 "A letter received from a fishing setttlement at 
 Bonne Esperance in the Straits of Belle Isle 
 (where Mr. Martin used to be missionary) incloses 
 such a touching story of two other Labrador chil- 
 dren, that I will tell it to you briefly. The little 
 brothers, aged eight and twelve, went out from 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 
 
 H7 
 
 KIRKINA 
 
14^ Pomiuk 
 
 their 'room' one Tuesday afternoon for a short pull, 
 when a sudden fog shut down upon them and they 
 could not find the way back. The older brother 
 wanted to anchor, but his little brother begged so 
 hard to help in rowing home, so that he could see 
 his mother. They tried it, but in vain. The next 
 day, when the fog lifted, they were out of sight of 
 land — they knew not w^here. The only food they 
 had were frozen caplins — the little fishes used as 
 bait for the codfish. They ate these and broke off 
 bits from the field of ice which surrounded them to 
 quench their thirst. After three or four days the 
 younger boy's strength gave out, and although his 
 brother encouraged him to stick to his oar, so 
 as to keep warm, he at last lay down in the boat, 
 his brother covered him with a bit of sail, and he 
 died. 
 
 "On Saturday the lonely little sailor saw land 
 and, unable to row longer, set a small sail and 
 reached a harbor. This proved to be St. Augus- 
 tine, over fifty miles away, and on the next day the 
 boy, with the body of his little brother, was put on 
 a passing schooner and taken home. Meantime, 
 his family and the little community were in great 
 grief, unable to find the missing boat and suppos- 
 ing it had been swamped far at sea. On Sunday 
 evening, the bishop of Quebec being on his visit 
 to that region, they all convened in the little chapel 
 on the island — I well remember worshiping in it 
 when on a vacation visit to that coast twenty years 
 ago — and held a memorial service for the lost chil- 
 dren. As they came out of the chapel it was found 
 that the brave little boy had just returned home, 
 safe and sound." 
 
 I have told you of Pomiuk's Christmas when 
 the doctor was away. Now you will be in- 
 
Pomiuk's Friends i^p 
 
 terested to know how the doctor celebrates it 
 among his Newfoundland fishermen : 
 
 "Dear Mr. Martin: ... We have had a 
 delightful Christmas. I had a lot of games for the 
 children — and all are children here, practically. 
 We had a huge Christmas tree, with ninety-three 
 children, besides adults. No one had ever seen 
 one before. On the sheet which concealed it a 
 series of lantern pictures was first thrown. They 
 took my story about Father Christmas and his 
 preference for Arctic regions too literally, so that 
 when the sheet suddenly fell and disclosed him in 
 full dress on the top of a ladder, in the brilliantly 
 illuminated tree, there was almost a panic. 
 
 "I had also two days' games for men on the ice, 
 having like Obadiah to feed nearly fifty in our 
 club-house during the time. We had a scramble 
 for sweets on the ice and a greased pole stuck up 
 in it_ One out of the hundred men got up, and 
 he climbed it twice, whirled around on the top and 
 came down head first, so carrying off both first 
 and second prizes. The obstacle races caused 
 great fun. The best was a large seal net doubled 
 again and again and pegged down on the ice, and 
 under this the runners had to crawl. A lot of the 
 boys got meshed in it! Then they crawled 
 through barrels. One stout man, on reaching the 
 obstacles, found all the barrels occupied except a 
 lime barrel, which was just too small for him. But 
 he got his head through, and getting on his legs, 
 went on until his wooden racing suit fell to pieces. 
 Later a hundred men shot at a wooden deer 
 mounted on a komatik and by a fish line attached 
 to each end made to gallop to and fro between two 
 flags, each competitor having a shot at the target 
 
1^0 Pomitik 
 
 (pasted over his heart), at a distance of seventy- 
 five yards. Considering the heterogeneous collec- 
 tion of antiquated guns, the shooting was good !" 
 
 When Doctor Grenfell was coasting along the 
 shore in the summer of 1900, he met Pomiuk's 
 mother, who he thought should be called "Re- 
 gina," because married to Valentine, the "king" 
 of the Eskimo at Hebron ! He writes : 
 
 "We have an excellent photograph of a royal 
 dinner party, a thing I never possessed before : 
 the king and queen, with a solitary courtier, 
 sitting on the rocks, gnawing contentedly at raw 
 walrus bones!" 
 
 Pomiuk's mother gave him a hearty salute 
 when she met him and paid a special visit to 
 thank him for his kindness to Pomiuk. 
 
 One of the superstitions of the Eskimo is that 
 they never mention the names of the dead, lest 
 their spirits arouse and harm them. Pomiuk's 
 mother did not share this fear, or else she had 
 become persuaded that the gentle spirit of her boy 
 could do her no wrong. 
 
 Dr. Grenfell is now pretty well known in 
 America. The Harvard students have cheered his 
 lecture in Sanders' Theatre, college professors 
 have been eager to talk with him about his ex- 
 
Pomiuk's Friends 
 
 151 
 
 plorations and discoveries, Dr. Edward Everett 
 Hale gets folks to give him Murdock's Food for 
 his Eskimo babies, and thousands of American 
 boys and girls have grown big-eyed at witnessing 
 his pictures of the fisherfolk of the far North. 
 This spring there came to the Battle Harbor 
 
 INASMUCH 
 AS YE HAVE DONE IT UNTO ONE OF THE 
 
 LEAST OF THESE MY BRETHREM i , 
 
 dr. grenfell s motto in battle 
 
 harbor hospital. carved by 
 
 "captains of ten"" 
 
 hospital a motto that now hangs over its front 
 door, carved by the Captains of Ten of Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 "Inasmuch As Ye: Have Done It Unto One 
 
 oE THE Least oe These My Brethren, Ye 
 
 Have Done It Unto Me." 
 
 The letters are ten inches high and the motto 
 
 stretched out in one line is over 46 feet long. The 
 
 background is all cut out, leaving the letters one- 
 
1^2 Pomiuk 
 
 half inch in relief. The border is painted green, 
 the letters are left in natural color and all are 
 varnished. It was hard and monotonous work, 
 requiring the mallet for most of it. 
 
 Miss Mackintire, their superintendent, said : 
 "The motto has done its work here. The pa- 
 tience, perseverance and self-mastery developed 
 helped my Captains!" 
 
 I think now I have told you the story up to the 
 present, but as you see it is not yet finished, and 
 perhaps it never will be. Dr. Grenfell is still 
 going up and down the Labrador coast, making 
 sick people well and little children happy, using 
 sometimes his newest ship, the Queen Alexandra, 
 named for the beautiful queen by her express 
 permission, — a brother to the friendless and a 
 father to the orphan, and living the brave life of 
 an English Viking. Mr. Martin keeps on think- 
 ing about his old parishioners and their children. 
 Good ladies in Boston keep asking Dr. Grenfell 
 to show them more ways in which they can help 
 his people in the North. He sends them curious 
 little fur bags made by the Eskimo women and 
 girls, which they buy for ornaments and treasure- 
 bags, and beautiful plumes which come from the 
 wild birds that the Eskimo eat, which American 
 
Pomhik's Priends 755 
 
 DR. GRENFELL, IN HIS LABRADOR WINTER COSTUME 
 
154 Pomiuk 
 
 ladies love to put on their hats. As Mr. Martin 
 says, "It is not inhuman. If those people are 
 willing to eat the owls, our ladies need not hesi- 
 tate to wear the feathers on their hats." And 
 the children, too, they are still busy in helping 
 Kirkina, and we hope even after Kirkina has 
 grown to be a woman and the children who 
 love her are American men and women, that the 
 Memorial Cot will still be filled with those who 
 suffer, by the generous hands of other American 
 children still to be born, and that the memorial 
 of the little Labrador "prince," who was so brave 
 and happy and generous in his suffering, will 
 never be forgotten. 
 
 "The finest missionary alive" has been sharing 
 my office in Boston lately. Here he sits to-day 
 opposite me, an athletic figure, with a round, rus- 
 set face, clear blue eyes, light mustache, and tells 
 with his clear-cut English speech and quiet 
 English way, yarns of adventure that make my 
 boys want to follow him at once to the North- 
 land. His heavy fur-lined overcoat is the only 
 reminder in his costume of his long and hard 
 travelings by land and sea. The room smells 
 of camphor, for here is a box of fur and feather 
 handiwork of his Eskimo friends; there are bar- 
 
Pomink's Friends 
 
 155 
 
 
 PI H 
 
 t^ O 
 
1^6 Pomiuk 
 
 rels of goods marked for the Strathcona ; and 
 yonder are medical treatises and books about 
 children's games for man and child in Labrador. 
 To-morrow he starts North to the ten months' 
 cold and three months' night. 
 
 Your hand at parting, brave fellow. You go 
 North to show the children of the cold that kind- 
 ness is Christlikeness. I remain here to try to 
 do the same, and you, reader, fare you west or 
 east or south, will you join hands also and circle 
 the world with kindness too? 
 
 For "this fable teaches," as the story-books 
 would say, that a single deed of thoughtful kind- 
 ness goes on and on through the years and no 
 one can tell how far it will go or to what benedic- 
 tions it may attain. 
 
DEC 2 1903