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Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History

March 25, 2005

March 27, 1935 - Adolphus Greely Awarded Medal of Honor

March 27 marks two anniversaries in the life of Adolphus Washington Greely. The first is his birth in 1844 in Massachusetts. At age 16, having graduated from high school, Greely joined the Army and fought in the American Civil War. In 1881 he volunteered to lead a scientific expedition to the High Arctic as part of the U.S. Army's participation in the first International Polar Year (1882-3). Greely's task was to lead a party of 25 men, mostly American soldiers, to establish a meteorological station at Lady Franklin Bay high up on the eastern coast of Ellesmere Island. It was expected that the party would remain in the field for two years.

Greely established his base camp at Fort Conger. Exploratory parties forayed out from that base to explore the coast and the interior of Ellesmere Island. One of these parties discovered the largest lake on the island, Lake Hazen. The expedition's farthest north was reached in May 1882 at 83° 24' north latitude, farther north than man had ever travelled, and surpassing a British record that had been held for over 300 years. Detailed records were kept of weather, tides and other observations of scientific interest.

The relief ship sent out in 1882 was unable to reach Fort Conger because of ice. This was not particularly worrisome because Greely had brought enough supplies for two years in the Arctic. The men remained comfortable enough during their second winter, although by this time there was dissension amongst the members.

In 1883 the supply ship again failed to reach their lonely outpost, so Greely put into operation his contingency plan. They abandoned Fort Conger and travelled south along the Ellesmere coast in a number of small boats. It was a treacherous journey. Several boats were lost, along with precious food supplies and equipment. Finally they reached Cape Sabine but could go no further. Food was in short supply, but Greely was always cognisant of his purpose and had stubbornly saved his accumulation of raw scientific data collected over two years.

A winter camp was established at Cape Sabine, a truly desolate spot with little game. The winter was one of extreme privation and desperation. Greely wrote at one point, "Certain of the party cannot be trusted if we come to extremes. I have my eye on a gun and will not hesitate to use it if the occasion requires."

Meanwhile in Washington, political incompetence and infighting were the order of the day. Greely's wife fanned the flames of popular support for a relief expedition to rescue her husband in 1884 and finally, after acrimonious debate in Congress, funds were provided for an expedition as well as a bounty for any sealer, whaler or other civilian who might first find Greely.

The U.S. Army having proved its incompetence, the relief expedition was organized by the U.S. Navy. In June of 1884 three vessels, the Thetis, Bear and Alert, all commanded by Winfield Scott Schley, reached Cape Sabine. But it was too late for most of Greely's men. Most had starved to death. Only the commander and six men remained alive, and one of those died shortly after rescue. Greely and four of his companions had to be carried aboard ship on stretchers.

Greely returned a hero, but the subsequent investigation left a sour taste about the Arctic in the minds of American politicians. The president opined that he had never favoured such exploration and politicians vowed not to support Arctic exploration in the future.

Adolphus Greely remained in the Army and reached the rank of Major General, the first soldier ever to have started as a volunteer private and rise to such high rank. He was a communications expert for the Army, and installed telegraphic equipment in Alaska, The Philippines, Cuba and Puerto Rico. He acted as a mediator in Indian uprisings. He directed relief operations after the San Francisco earthquake, and was a co-founder of the National Geographic Magazine.

And throughout his career he was a prolific writer. Among many other titles, his own account of the tragedy of the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition, entitled "Three Years of Arctic Service," was a best-seller.

Strangely, the greatest honour accorded Greely occurred only because he lived so long. It was not until March 27, 1935, his 91st birthday, that he was awarded the United States Congressional Medal of Honor. The citation began with the words, "For his life of splendid public service..."

Adolphus Greely died the following October. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

March 18, 2005

March 20, 1913 — Taming Igloolik

In 1912 Captain Joseph Bernier left the service of the Canadian government, purchased the Minnie Maud, a small two-masted mackerel schooner, and became a private fur trader in the High Arctic. In July he left Quebec City, outfitted for two years of trading and gold exploration in the Arctic. A month later the vessel anchored in Albert Harbour, a few miles to the west of present-day Pond Inlet. An Inuit village of 19 sealskin tents with about 50 inhabitants was only a few miles away at the base of the mountain that the Inuit called Igarjuaq.

The expedition took over the six-room former whaling building that Bernier had purchased and used as trading headquarters. Some members left the ship and lived there at Christmas and New Year’s and the following summer. The biggest room, 10 by 18 feet, served as kitchen, dining-room, living room, trading store, visiting room for the Inuit, and concert and dance hall, as well as a workshop where the natives could repair their broken sleds, harpoons and rifles.

Life was neither pleasant nor easy at Albert Harbour. From mid-September the men saw little of the sun. It dipped lower each day and was soon hidden from view by the high hills surrounding the harbour. On shore, the hills and enormous boulders made walking “a difficult and dangerous scramble.”

They had brought their own water supply in casks from Quebec, but that gave out in early October, and from then until early June they relied on melted ice and snow. Bathing was a luxury. Lice appeared aboard ship and most of the party suffered from them. The tents of the Inuit were also infested. After freeze-up in early October, the Inuit came regularly from the village for free meals, tobacco and biscuits. Many of the ship’s men preferred to escape the ship’s confines and live ashore in wooden shacks or in snow houses with the Inuit.

Some of Bernier’s men prospected during the fall, but they quickly concluded that there was no gold to be found in the area. The expedition became a simple trading venture.

Perhaps the greatest accomplishment of any member of the expedition was the epic journey of Alfred Tremblay. A self-taught geologist who had accompanied Bernier on his previous Arctic expedition, Tremblay was 25 years old. In late October, he left Pond Inlet with other members of the party and travelled via Navy Board Inlet and Admiralty Inlet to Strathcona Sound. There he hired Piunngittuq as guide and, accompanied by the guide’s wife, Tuutalik, they travelled to Igloolik, which they reached on March 20. Tremblay was only the second white man there since William Edward Parry in 1823.

Inuit in Igloolik have not forgotten Tremblay. And indeed he would be hard to forget because his behaviour on arrival was so bizarre.

Rosie Iqallijuq, an elder in the community, recalled in an interview for the Igloolik Oral History Project in 1991: “It is said that he had a pistol so with it he shot the island of Igloolik as he walked around the shoreline. After he had shot the island he said that Igloolik was dead and that a ship will now be able to get to the island.” Igloolik was notoriously difficult to reach by ship, and another elder, Noah Piugaattuk, explained Tremblay’s behaviour this way: “Igloolik is like a wild animal, very hard to catch.” Walking around the island firing his gun into the ground was Tremblay’s way of taming it, to make it more easy of access.

Tremblay explored the Igloolik area, then returned overland via Milne Inlet, reaching Bernier’s shack on the Salmon River on May 10. He had long since been given up for dead. Bernier’s men thought they were seeing a ghost.

I visited Alfred Tremblay in a war veterans’s hospital at Courville, near Quebec City, two years before his death in 1975. There was very little left of him at the time. Circulatory problems had cost him both his legs. He was deaf in one ear as a result of a rifle explosion, and his eyesight was failing. I interviewed this fraction of a man about his experiences in the north. But senility was rapidly claiming what remained of this Arctic man, described by one writer as “the greatest overland explorer in the Canadian Arctic in the early part of the twentieth century,” and his reminiscences veered in and out of lucidity.

I knew that the Inuit remembered him as Taamali — the best they could do at pronouncing his surname — but he insisted that they had called him Tuurngaq and that it was because they regarded him as a devil. Perhaps they did. For they still remember the day that the first white man on the island in almost half a century tamed Igloolik.

March 11 , 2005

Feb. 29, 1920 - Robert Janes’s Last Journey (Part 3 of 4)

On March 11, 1920, Nuqallaq and a party of Inuit hunters and their families arrived at a seal hunting camp on the ice off Cape Crauford, northern Baffin Island. They were surprised to discover that Robert Janes, a Newfoundland trader, was already there, having diverted from his intended course to Igloolik and south. Nuqallaq and Janes had once been bitter enemies, but the enmity had waned after Nuqallaq had taken a wife. Still, relations were often tense between the two and Nuqallaq generally went out of his way to avoid any contact with the trader.

Janes’s intended quick stop at Cape Crauford stretched into several days. During this time, his behaviour became quite irrational. Convinced that many of the hunters owed him for trade, he began to threaten them. He would, he declared, kill the Inuit and their dogs if they did not hand over their furs. The men of the camp conferred. If Janes’s behaviour did not improve, someone would have to kill him. As a natural leader, that man would have to be Nuqallaq.

Morning dawned clear and cold on Sunday, March 15. Robert Janes began his sixth day at Cape Crauford, the most northerly white man in Canada, the only non-native in a hunting camp of 19 Inuit men, some accompanied by their wives and children.

The Inuit men went hunting, as usual. When they returned, they heard that Janes had continued his bizarre behaviour, and they knew that they could no longer postpone the inevitable.

That night, Nuqallaq hid behind Ataguttaaluk’s snowhouse, while Aatitaaq stood beside its entry. Maniq positioned a qamutiik upright beside Nuqallaq to conceal him. Nuqallaq was the only man carrying a gun. With everyone in position, Ululijarnaaq went to Paumik’s igloo and asked Janes to come out. Some Inuit had some fox pelts for him, he told the trader.

Janes didn’t bother with his parka. He would be warm enough in his heavy red woollen shirt and his thick vest. Caribou skin pants and boots covered his lower body.

He bent his lanky frame through the low doorway and stepped into the chill spring night. Ululijarnaaq followed him out. Maniq whispered loudly to Nuqallaq that Janes was outside. The trader strode straight along the path in the direction of Nuqallaq’s snowhouse.

Ululijarnaaq, missing his cue, suddenly told the trader to stop, then, realizing that he was not yet in Nuqallaq’s sight, just as abruptly told him to carry on. Janes walked a little further, a target growing larger and closer. The hunter aimed nervously and fired. The shot missed.

Janes, suddenly angry and afraid, cried out in English but the Inuit could not understand what he said. He kept walking. He couldn’t tell where the sound had come from, but he recognized it as a rifle shot. He looked around, confused and frightened, and recognized Nuqallaq. Not realizing that he was staring into the face of his executioner, he called out to him, “Nuqallaq uvvaa! — Nuqallaq, here!”

Terror gripped him as he begged Nuqallaq for help. Nuqallaq fired again, and this time the bullet ripped through the vest and the woollen shirt and tore through his flesh above the hip. Aatitaaq then ran up behind Janes, took hold of him above the hips and pushed him along, until Janes tripped over a qamutiik. Aatitaaq gave him a final push and he fell to the ground.

Blood oozed from under Janes’s clothing, and a crimson stain crept darkly across the hard-packed snow. The trader tried to get up, but he could only rise enough to place his weight on one elbow as he cried out in pain and fear.

Some of the men came from their snowhouses and congregated around Janes. They stood expressionless over the fallen trader, like official witnesses at an execution. No one spoke. There was nothing left to say, to Janes or to each other. Words had already failed. The only sounds were the cries of the man they knew as Sakirmiaq as he thrashed about in agony and in the certain knowledge of his impending death.

Nuqallaq gazed down at his old tormentor. Janes searched the faces above him for that of his nemesis. Their eyes met. In that instant, fear and resignation melded into a mutual acceptance of the inevitable. Nuqallaq raised the rifle slowly but without hesitation. The width of a qamutiik separated him from Janes. A final shot seared cleanly through the trader’s head. The bullet entered his skull above the left ear and exited behind the right ear into the snow.

Three years later, Nuqallaq, Ululijarnaaq and Aatitaq would stand trial for murder.

March 4 , 2005

Feb. 29, 1920 - Robert Janes’s Last Journey (Part 3 of 4)

KENN HARPER

On March 4 Robert Janes passed Adams Island in Lancaster Sound, 10 days into his desperate bid to leave north Baffin Island by dog sled. He would travel by sled as far as Churchill, and from there overland to Winnipeg, then home to St. John’s.

Although Janes saw no sign of Inuit at Adams Island, a group was camped there, perhaps on the opposite side of the island from which he passed. This was Nuqallaq’s camp. Kaukuarjuk had warned Nuqallaq that Janes was heading in this direction and that he was still obsessed with his dislike for him. Nuqallaq still feared the unstable trader and had decided that it was better for Janes to pass without meeting him. In doing so, Nuqallaq demonstrated the same tactic of avoidance of confrontation that he had shown in earlier years when experiencing difficult relations with white men. It was a display, not of cowardice, but of common sense.

Janes and Uuttukuttuk left Navy Board Inlet and skirted the coast of Baffin Island’s Borden Peninsula along Lancaster Sound, which marked the eastern entrance to the fabled Northwest Passage. Its ice was often unstable, but the landfast ice close to shore, on which Janes and his partner travelled, formed a platform for safe travel at this time of year.

Janes hoped to meet Inuit near Arctic Bay, from whom he could get fresh seal meat to feed his hungry dogs. He sent Uuttukuttuk on ahead with a lightly loaded sled to see if the Inuit were still at Strathcona Sound. Janes spent the night alone, drying his clothes and tending to his gear. The temperature was minus 25. He noted in his journal, “Today makes 15 days and not at my destination yet, the longest trip here during my stay in this land. Night fine. All well.”

When Uuttukuttuk returned, it was with news that confirmed Janes’s fears. There were no Inuit at Strathcona Sound, but there were sled tracks and they indicated that the natives had all headed west. Now Janes faced uncertainty as to whether to continue on to Arctic Bay or to make a long diversion north-west to Cape Crauford. He could not be sure of encountering any Inuit at Arctic Bay, for the winter had been severe there and food had been in short supply. He felt it more likely that the whole population had relocated to Cape Crauford — Kangiq as they called it — a favoured spring sealing area on the western shore of the mouth of Admiralty Inlet.

It was important that Janes meet a large group of Inuit soon for he needed more dog-food for his dash to Igloolik, 300 miles to the south, the next location where he could be assured of meeting natives. If the Inuit had moved on to Cape Crauford, then he must follow, even though the diversion would add days to a trip already behind schedule. On March 10 he made his decision. His diary records the events of that day.

Tuesday, March 10

Cape Crauford. Wind strong westerly and bitterly cold. Driver returned from the west at 6 a.m. after being all day and night going and coming. He saw no natives but saw plenty of sleigh tracks. We picked up our gear and got away from igloo at 9 a.m. This has been one of the coldest days I have ever spent on a sleigh. Pretty tough to keep from freezing. As it was, I got my nose frozen. Half way to Cape Crauford we cached our outfit. Dogs pretty tired. We made poor progress. At 6 p.m. we arrived at native colony three miles off Cape Crauford and were glad to get into a native igloo. Fortunately I picked a warm one. Several are away down in bottom of inlet. I may see them later on. Night fine. All well. Thermometer 38 below.

When Janes and Uutuukuttuk arrived at Cape Crauford, seven native families were camped there. They were there for the spring seal hunt, so their camp was a few miles offshore on the landfast ice. Four feet thick at this time of year, this ice would form a surface for travelling and camping until June. The sun had returned to northern Baffin Island in early February, and the amount of light was increasing daily. The evening light lasted until about 10 o’clock and dawn came in the wee hours of the morning. Janes and his guide moved into Paumik’s snowhouse and were made welcome. The trader intended to spend only a few days at this camp before continuing south.

The following day, however, more Inuit arrived at the camp. With them was Nuqallaq.

Continued next week.

February 25, 2005

Feb. 29, 1920 - Robert Janes's Last Journey (Part 2 of 4)

KENN HARPER

Robert Janes had embarked on a difficult journey south from his trading post near Pond Inlet. Travelling by dog sled, with one Inuit guide, and heavily-laden sleds, he would travel through Admiralty Inlet, Igloolik, and the Keewatin coast to Churchill, and from there to Winnipeg, and on to St. John's. He had picked probably the coldest time of the year to begin such a journey. But the trip would be a long one and there was no time to spare by waiting for warmer weather.

On their third day of travel, Janes and his guide, Uuttukuttuk, rounded the southwestern tip of Bylot Island and entered Navy Board Inlet. There they met another native, Kaukuarjuk. There was no trouble between Janes and the Inuk - in fact, Kaukuarjuk provided the trader with some caribou meat - but there was a portent of things to come.

Janes raised the subject of his old enemy, Nuqallaq, and told Kaukuarjuk that Nuqallaq was no good, an indication that Janes continued to bear malice against the man who had slept with his mistress two years earlier. Ironically, when Kaukuarjuk, more lightly loaded and able to travel faster, left Janes and headed north, his destination was Nuqallaq's camp.

Uuttukuttuk's wife, who had accompanied her husband and Janes this far, wanted to continue with her husband on his long journey. Supplies of food in her camp were scarce near the end of a long winter of darkness, and her husband had little to leave for her. Native hunting patterns had been so severely disrupted by the Inuit's need to trap foxes for the competing traders in the district that privation was often the result.

But Janes needed speed on this trip, and could not be encumbered with a family accompanying his guide. Janes prevailed, and the following day the two men traveled on alone.

Travel was slow. By the end of February, the party was still in Navy Board Inlet. The trip so far had been plagued by bad weather. It was bitterly cold, minus 45 °C at one point. Still, it was early and Janes was filled with optimism. His diary entry for the last day of February conveys no hint of despair.

Saturday, February 29

Strong westerly wind with heavy drift over ice. In Narrows about 6 miles to the north of us it blew a gale all day, too much so to make a move. The day was bitterly cold, 35 below. Sent native to hunt. Have returned at 4 p.m. with three partridge which gave us a good supper. We have a very good stock of meat, enough to last as far as Arctic Bay, Admiralty Inlet if favourable weather prevails. Not so bad in igloo considering the frost outside. Night fine, wind moderating, all well.

Away goes February. Taboutie.

Janes's "Taboutie" is the Inuktitut word "tavvauvutit" - "goodbye," with which he bid farewell to the month of February. To the Inuit this month was traditionally called "avunnivik" - "the month of miscarriages." Although the sun had returned over the horizon in the High Arctic, this was nonetheless the coldest month of the year. In particularly bad years, caribou often suffered miscarriages about this time.

Dog team travel provides plenty of time for reflection. And Robert Janes had plenty to think about. His relations with many of the Inuit had been rocky. He had bullied and threatened many, and extorted furs from a number of them after his trade goods had run out. He looked forward to leaving the Arctic and getting back to St. John's and the family he had not seen for almost four years.

His wife was caring for their twelve children. He thought fondly of them all and had nicknames for most. Among them were two boys who were his pride and joy, Ambrose and Eggerton - Janes called them "Ham and Egg." He was leaving behind Kalluk, the woman he had lived with (along with her real husband) for over three years, and who was pregnant with his child. And there was also an eight-year-old girl, Ataguttaq, whom he had sired on his first trip to the Arctic. He recognized her as his daughter and often provided her presents.

Continued next week.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming week. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit.

February 18 , 2005

Feb. 24, 1920 — Robert Janes’s Last Journey (Part 1 of 4)

KENN HARPER

Robert Janes was born on Gooseberry Islands near Glovertown, Newfoundland, and first traveled to the Arctic as second mate on the Canadian government ship, Arctic, under the famous Captain Bernier in 1910. From the English term “second mate” came his Inuktitut name “sakirmiaq.”

In 1912, he returned north on an unsuccessful summer expedition in search of gold at Pond Inlet. Finally, he came back for the third time in 1916 and established a trading post west of Pond Inlet at Patricia River. But competition was intense. Two rivals already had trading posts nearby.

Janes quarreled with the Inuit and with the rival traders. In particular, he quarreled with an Inuit leader, Nuqallaq. At first they quarreled over a woman. Nuqallaq’s wife, Ullatitaq, tired of her husband’s cruel beatings, had committed suicide. Janes had left his wife, Leah, and twelve children behind in St. John’s.

Both men decided that they wanted an attractive young woman, Kalluk, who was married to Inuutiq, who worked for Janes. In fact, Janes, Kalluk and Inuutiq all lived together in a ménage-a-trois in Janes’s small shack. But Nuqallaq happened by from time to time when Janes was away. This situation eventually sorted itself out when Nuqallaq took another woman, Ataguttiaq, as his wife.

But Janes had problems with other Inuit over trade. He had liberally advanced goods on credit in the early days of his trading post, but had eventually run out of trade goods. He solved that problem by simply extorting furs from the Inuit at gunpoint. In the process he became a very unpopular man.

But his life took a decided turn for the worst in 1919 when his rival, Captain Henry Toke Munn — kapitaikuluk — arrived with supplies for his own post, and news for Janes. His backer in St. John’s had sold the ship. No relief was coming for Robert Janes. Munn and Janes were unable to agree on the terms of passage south, and Munn departed, leaving Janes behind.

The departure of Munn in the fall of 1919 left Robert Janes in northern Baffin Island to prepare for his fourth winter in the Arctic. One other white man shared the district with him, a Peterhead man, George Diament.

That winter, Janes concocted a desperate scheme to reach the South and home. With one native, Uuttukuttuk, as his guide and driver, he would go west through Eclipse Sound, north through Navy Board Inlet, and into Lancaster Sound to round the northern tip of Borden Peninsula. From there he would head south through Admiralty Inlet to Arctic Bay, where he hoped to meet natives and secure from them dog food sufficient to allow him to reach the Inuit camp at Igloolik in Foxe Basin.

He would secure more food from natives there and continue on to Repulse Bay. There he would dismiss Uuttukuttuk and hire another guide to take him that same spring along the Keewatin coast as far as Churchill and from there to the terminus of the Hudson Bay railroad. He would travel by train to Winnipeg. From there he would continue on to St. John’s. There he would charter a vessel to go back north to Patricia River to bring out the furs that he was leaving behind. His journey began on February 24, 1920.

Janes kept a daily diary on this, his last trip. Called “Record of Expedition to Hudson’s (sic) Bay,” it is for the most part a lucid recording of the journey, an optimistic account of a difficult trip on which temperatures reached as low as -45 F. Until the last two entries, there is no reference to trouble with any of the Inuit and no hint of the ill temper which had marred his previous relations with them. The diary describes starkly and sparely Robert Janes’s attempt to escape from his Arctic hell.

Monday, February 24

Calm and clear. Thermometer 36 below. Left station outward bound to try and reach civilization. Team eleven dogs, load about 800 pounds. Snow deep and going slow. At 3 p.m. cached half and sleighed till 11 p.m. when we reached south-west Bylot and put up for night in driver’s igloo.

That morning Robert Janes bid farewell to his mistress, Kalluk, and her husband, Inuutiq. Kalluk was heavy with Janes’s child, a child that Inuutiq would have the responsibility to feed and raise, and Janes knew that he would never see her again. It mattered little. He was on his way home to Leah and the large family that awaited his return in St. John’s.

To be continued...

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming week. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit.

February 11 , 2005

Feb. 13, 1858 — The Birth of Sivutiksaq

KENN HARPER

In 1858 a couple living in Schwerin in northeastern Germany, Charles and Wilhelmina Duvel, gave birth to their fourth son, whom they named Wilhelm. This child would grow up to a life remarkably different from that of his siblings or, indeed, his countrymen.

When Wilhelm was two years old the family emigrated to New York City — a not unusual move for Europeans of the time, who saw America as the promised land.

Some of his siblings eventually changed the family surname from the Germanicsounding Duvel to Duval. This represented the first transformation in Wilhelm’s life; changing both first and last name, he became William Duval.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming week. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit.

February 4 , 2005

February 10, 1922: A Circus of Formality

KENN HARPER

In March of 1920, Nuqallaq, an Inuit leader in northern Baffin Island, with the assistance of other Inuit, killed Robert Janes, a Newfoundland trader, near Cape Crauford at the entrance to Admiralty Inlet. The reasons are complex. In August of the following year, Staff Sergeant Albert Herbert Joy reached Pond Inlet on the Hudson's Bay Company ship, Baychimo. The Bay was establishing its most northerly fur trading post and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was simultaneously establishing a police detachment.

Headquarters' instructions to Joy were all-encompassing: "A detachment is to be established at Pond Inlet, Baffin Island, and you have been selected to take charge of it. You have been appointed a justice of the peace in the Northwest Territories, in which Baffin Island is situated; a coroner, a special officer of the customs, and a postmaster of a post office located at Pond Inlet."

On Dec. 26, on the first of his many famous Arctic patrols, Joy, travelling with a group of Inuit, disinterred Janes's body from its crude rock grave on the shores of Brodeur Peninsula and brought it back to Pond Inlet. On Jan. 21, 1922, he conducted an autopsy.

Justice had to be carried out properly, thought Joy. That meant forms to be filled out, informations to be sworn and notices served. With only four white men in the district, Joy arranged a circus of formalities to deal with the trappings of white man's law. On Jan. 23, he arranged that Wilfred Caron, an employee of another fur-trading company, would appear in his presence and swear an "Information to Hold Inquest." Joy then swore Wilfred Parsons of the Hudson's Bay Company in as "Special Constable," so that Parsons could then issue a "Warrant to Summon a Jury" to Joy himself, who then duly served a "Summons to Jury" to each of Caron, Parsons and the latter's assistant, Gaston Herodier.

Tellingly, Joy noted in his official report that these three were "all the competent men available as jurors." Joy had given no thought to including Inuit on the jury. Parsons, although now a member of the jury, was still a Special Constable and in that capacity he next served a "Summons to Witness" to Coroner Joy and to the three Inuit men, Urulu, Tuurnaq and Ululijarnaaq, who had accompanied Joy in recovering the body of the deceased.

On the same day that this flurry of paperwork was handled, the coroner's inquest opened at 4:30 in the afternoon. James Tooktosina, an Inuk from Labrador in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, served as interpreter. With few buildings available, the inquest was held in the living room of the trading post. Other Inuit witnesses had to be called, and so there were numerous adjournments ordered by Coroner Joy so that he, in his role as Staff-Sergeant Joy, police officer, could summon the additional witnesses to testify. The inquest, in fact, went on until well into February. The Inuit who were summoned told what they knew of the events, and everything was duly interpreted for the benefit of the white men, who scrupulously noted everything said.

One can only wonder what impression this formality, this insistence on written testimony, this obsession with the trappings of southern justice, had on the Inuit. They cannot have understood the role that Joy, claiming to represent a country called Canada, would play in their lives and futures, and how he was different from the new traders, Parsons and Herodier. For now, they were all qallunaat, and the Inuit gave them all Inuktitut names. Parsons they dubbed "Nujaqanngittuq," the bald one. Herodier became known as "Ataataluk," the poor father. But Albert Herbert Joy was simply called "Saarjan," an attempt to pronounce his rank rather than his name.

On February 10, the jury retired and returned with its verdict in 20 minutes. It read:

"That the said Robert Janes was shot to death on or about the end of March in the year one thousand nine hundred and twenty, the precise date being to the jurors unknown, at Cape Crauford in the North-west Territories. And that the cause of his death was that Nuqallaq alias Qiugaarjuk, Eskimo, did feloniously and of his malice aforethought kill and murder the said Robert Janes by shooting him through the body and head with a rifle, from which he instantly died.

"And do so further say that Ululijarnaaq, Eskimo, and Aatitaaq, Eskimo, did feloniously and of their malice aforethought aid and abet the said Nuqallaq alias Qiugaarjuk in committing the said felonious act."

With a verdict in hand, Coroner Joy dismissed the jury the next day. Then, that same day, Parsons, acting again in his role as Special Constable, laid an Information and Complaint before Joy who now acted, not as police officer, but as Justice of the Peace. The complaint was against Nuqallaq, Ululijarnaaq and Aatitaaq for the murder of Robert Janes, contrary to section 263 of the Criminal Code. Later that day, Joy, still acting as Justice of the Peace, issued a Warrant to Apprehend for each of the three Inuit; he noted that these warrants were issued and "retained by me." In fact, Joy as Justice of the Peace had directed Joy as police officer to arrest the three men. They were later tried for murder.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming week. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit.

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