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Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History
June 27, 1911 - Radford and Street Leave Fort Smith

KENN HARPER

In 1909 a wealthy sportsman from New York, Harry Radford, went north to collect specimens for the United States Biological Survey and the Smithsonian Institution. "Handsome Harry" was known to veteran northern travellers and the police as insensitive, easy to anger, a difficult and headstrong man. Joining him in Fort Smith in the western Canadian sub-Arctic was a strong, young surveyor, 22-year-old George Street of Ottawa.

Radford had an ambitious plan. He and his companion would paddle and portage from Fort Smith to Chesterfield Inlet on the Hudson Bay coast, then sledge north-west to Bathurst Inlet, continue from there along the coast to Fort McPherson in the Mackenzie Delta, and on to the Yukon. Much of this country was unexplored. And Radford insisted that Street sign an unusual contract - he would risk his own life to protect Radford's; if food became short, he would get less than his share; and he could keep no journals.

The two men left Fort Smith on June 27, 1911. They reached Chesterfield Inlet late in the fall, too late to continue. They wintered at Schulz Lake, and were put up by the local headman, Akulack. Street took immediately to this environment - the cold didn't bother him, the food was agreeable, the people easy-going. Radford, on the other hand, was impatient and impulsive.

Radford sought guides for the spring trip to Bathurst Inlet. He threatened to shoot one Inuk who offered, then declined, to act as guide. In the end Akulack agreed to be their guide. The trip to Bathurst Inlet took six weeks, the party arriving there in early May. Radford began exploring and mapping this "last strip remaining unexplored of the continental coast of North America."

And then silence. The two-man expedition seemingly vanished. Nothing more was heard of them until June 1913 when Akulack reported to a Hudson's Bay Company trader that Inuit had killed both Radford and Street at Bathurst Inlet. The trader duly reported the alleged crime to the authorities and Canada authorized a special patrol of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police to investigate.

But more than tracking down a murderer was at stake. This patrol gave the police the opportunity to extend their authority into a vast, unexplored area.

In July of 1914 a patrol left Halifax for Chesterfield Inlet. It comprised Inspector W. J. Beyts, Sgt. Major Thomas Caulkin, and a few constables. In the Arctic, they continued on to Baker Lake. With that as their base, despite herculean efforts over two years, they failed to reach Bathurst Inlet.

In June 1916 Beyts was relieved of his command and replaced with Inspector Francis French. In May of the following year, French, Caulkin, and a number of Inuit finally succeeded in reaching Bathurst Inlet. There, raising their hands high above their heads, a traditional greeting of peace, they met the Inuit of that isolated area.

French got immediately down to business. He traveled about Bathurst Inlet, questioning the Inuit about the alleged murders. The witnesses' stories were all the same. The older of the white men, the leader, was called Ishumatok (the one who thinks), the younger one Kiuk (wood) because he was so strong. Ishumatok was extremely bad-tempered. Neither could speak the language of the people, and communication was only by signs.

Radford recruited Harla and Kaneak as guides, but Kaneak changed his mind because his wife had fallen and hurt herself. Radford was incensed and began to beat Kaneak with a dog whip. Street tried to restrain him, but couldn't. Radford then dragged Kaneak over to a hole in the ice, and the Inuit thought that he was going to force him down the hole. Another man, Okituk, grabbed Radford, while Hulalark stabbed him through the back with a snow knife.

Street ran for the sled. No-one knew if he was running to get a gun or if he was running for his life. But the Inuit could take no chances. Okituk chased after him and held him while Amegealnik stabbed him in the back. Street died immediately. Radford was still alive, so Hulalark slit his throat to end his life. Their bodies were wrapped in skins and left on the ice.

The Inuit unanimously described Radford as a man who had treated them badly, but thought his young companion to be a good man. Amegealnik, who killed him, later offered a number of premium white fox pelts to the missionary, W.H.B. Hoare, to send to Street's family as a way of making amends for killing their son.

The police concluded that Amegealnik and Hululark had acted in their own defence. Accordingly, French laid no charges. In fact, the police had recognized that Radford and Street had been dealt with according to the principles of Inuit law.

Inspector French gave the Inuit a warning, that his decision in this case would be the last verdict like it that they would see. If they killed or harmed white men again, he told them, "the culprits would be taken away and never return."

French's patrol finally returned to Baker Lake on January 29, 1918. It had been the longest, most difficult police patrol in the history of the force to date.

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. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History
June 14, 1856 - Erasmus Augustine Kallihirua dies in St. John's

KENN HARPER

A watercolour portrait of Kalli, who was only 24 when he died

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A young Inuk man from northwestern Greenland is one of the few Inuit of whom a biography was ever published in book form. The book, "Kalli, The Esquimaux Christian" is a very rare book today, despite the fact that it was published in a number of editions, both in England and the USA.

Kalli was born in the Thule district about 1832, and given the name Qalaherhuaq - the name means "the big navel."

In 1850, when Kalli was in his late teens, Captain Erasmus Ommanney, in command of a Franklin search vessel, the Assistance, arrived at Cape York, Greenland, a well-known meeting place for Inuit, whalers and explorers. Young Kalli went on board the ship and agreed to travel with Ommanney as his guide. Ommanney wanted to get to the bottom of reports, circulated by a Greenlandic interpreter on another vessel, of the massacre of two ships' crews some years earlier. Kalli guided Ommanney into Wolstenholme Sound where a British naval supply vessel, the North Star, had wintered. Then they returned to Cape York where Ommanney interviewed the Inuit there, using Kalli as his interpreter.

[A word of caution. Kalli had never seen English-speaking people before the arrival of the North Star the previous year. Doubtless he had learned some rudimentary English that winter. But when a nineteenth-century Arctic explorer says "interpreter," he usually means something like "guide-facilitator-interpreter-helper." For Ommanney, Kalli was all of these things.]

The Inuit of Cape York denied any knowledge of the alleged massacre, and the Assistance continued on in the search for the missing Franklin expedition. The vessel wintered near Griffith Island in Barrow Strait, near present-day Resolute Bay. That winter, Kalli learned the basics of reading and writing from the sergeant of marines. The following summer, Ommanney attempted to reach Cape York to return Kalli home, but his path was blocked by ice, so he proceeded on to England, taking Kalli with him. On reaching England, the young Inuk took the name Erasmus York, Erasmus after Captain Ommanney's first name, and York after Cape York.

Ommanney brought his young Inuk friend to the attention of the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge in London. They conferred with the Admiralty, and Kalli was sent to St. Augustine's College in Canterbury, to train as a missionary. At St. Augustine's he was taught more reading and writing, and given religious education.

While in Canterbury Kalli also worked for a year and a half, five hours a day, in a tailor's shop, learning that trade. He also assisted Captain John Washington of the Admiralty in revising an "Esquimaux" dictionary for use by Franklin searching expeditions.

On November 27, 1853 the young man was baptized and changed his name yet again, becoming Erasmus Augustine Kallihirua. The following autumn he left for St. John's, Newfoundland, where he was to take further religious training at the Theological Institution. The plan was that he would then accompany the bishop of Newfoundland on a missionary trip to Labrador the following summer.

He enjoyed his winter in St. John's. His English had improved considerably. In January of 1856 he wrote a letter to a friend: "...The weather here is very cold; I feel it more than at Cape York. I have begun to skate and find it a very pleasant amusement. There is a lake a little distance from the college, called 'Quidi Vidi,' on which we practise. The Bishop is very kind and good to me. College here is not so large and fine a place as St. Augustine's; nor are there so many students. I hope that all my kind friends at Canterbury are quite well... I remain, yours affectionately, Kalli."

That summer Kalli caught a chill while swimming, and died on June 14. His funeral service was conducted in St. Thomas church and a graveside service was conducted by Rev. J. G. Mountain, principal of the college.

Kalli was the first of the Inughuit of north-western Greenland to venture into a world outside the Arctic. He proved himself to be resilient and adaptable, and at the same time popular with all he met. His life was cut short by illness at the tender age of about 24. One has to wonder what he would yet have accomplished had he lived.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming 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. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History
June 21, 1851 - The Birth of the First Inuit Minister

KENN HARPER

CLICK PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Simon Gibbons, the first Inuk minister, was a hilarious and gifted speaker. (PHOTO COURTESY OF KENN HARPER)

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Simon Gibbons' early years are lost in mystery. Indeed, one legend claims that he was found on an ice-floe off the Labrador coast. The historical record is unclear, but he was probably born on June 21, 1851 to an Inuit woman in Forteau, Labrador, on the shores of the Strait of Belle Isle. Her name has not survived and neither did she - one report is that she died while giving birth to Simon, another that she died a few years later. Simon's father was a white man, a fisherman named Thomas Gibbons.

A few years later Thomas Gibbons too was dead, leaving Simon, aged six, an orphan. He and his siblings were turned over to the "Widows and Orphans Asylum" run by the Church of England in St. John's. The orphanage reported that Simon "evinced intellect of no ordinary degree" and so he was placed in a school operated by the church.

In 1862, his name came off the rolls of the orphanage when he was taken into the care of Sophia Mountain, widow of a minister, Jacob George Mountain. A few years later, Mrs. Mountain remarried, to the bishop of Newfoundland, and Simon became a member of their household.

After graduation from the church academy, Simon continued his studies to prepare for the ministry, acting as lay reader, teacher and catechist in some of Newfoundland's outports.

In 1875 Gibbons moved to Quebec, where he taught in a church-run academy at Clarenceville. Three years later he would return to Clarenceville to marry the rector's daughter, Frances. But before that, he moved on to King's College in Windsor, Nova Scotia where he prepared for ordination.

Here, if he hadn't experienced it before, he had a taste of racism, being bullied by some of the other students because he was "different." He was a short stocky man with a round face, swarthy complexion, straight black hair and a moustache. Brushing the taunts of others aside, Gibbons persevered, and was ordained deacon in February 1877 and priest a month later.

Simon Gibbons served as minister in three Nova Scotian parishes, the first in Victoria County, Cape Breton, where he acted as a travelling missionary. His trips were legendary and often dangerous. A biographer wrote, "More than once he would stumble into a friend's house... exhausted and with bloodstained snowshoes."

He also traveled to England to solicit money for the building of churches in Nova Scotia. Here he used his Inuit appearance to advantage. A church official wrote of him, "He had qualifications not possessed by every collector; a musical voice, fluent and eloquent speech, an attractive personality, and above all his thoroughly Eskimo physique. These attracted large audiences wherever he went." Gibbons summed it up simply in these words, "My face was my fortune." He preached in Westminster Abbey and had an audience with Queen Victoria.

He built and furnished two churches and a mission house with the money he raised on his first trip to England, as well as providing the bishop $4,500 to permanently endow the mission. The first church he completed was St. Andrew's-by-the-Sea at Neil's Harbour.

Exhausted after over seven years in Cape Breton, he transferred to Lockeport, Nova Scotia, where he ministered for three years to three congregations. But his health had deteriorated and in 1885 he took a six-week vacation in the West Indies to recuperate. A few years later he returned to Britain for more fund-raising. This trip too was successful and he returned with funds and furnishings for his new church at Jordan Falls.

His last parish was Parrsboro where he built three new churches. He worked along with the carpenters in their construction, and served the workers a tot of rum each morning to encourage them.

Simon Gibbons traveled and lectured extensively. He was a gifted and amusing speaker. One listener wrote, "Mr. Gibbons, who is one of the most humorous speakers that I have ever heard, convulsed the people with laughter and everyone went home in the best of humour." Gibbons apparently felt that an entertained listener gives more generously. He once remarked that "the Lord loves a hilarious giver."

His health continued to deteriorate and he knew that his end was near. Shortly before his death, he said to a friend, "I shall not live much longer... We Eskimos do not live to a great age. I am now forty-six, which is extremely old for an Eskimo. I do not believe that my changed habits and living conditions will prolong my life expectancy. I shall not live more than a few months longer at most." On the night of his death, December 14, 1896, he preached a sermon on the text, "We needs must die." Then he went home and died. He and his wife had no children. He is buried in Parrsboro parish cemetery.

As with his birth, so legend also surrounds Simon Gibbons in death. Bishop Leonard Hatfield wrote in 1987, "The ultimate legend about Simon Gibbons concerns a bird that often sits on the cross on top of the spire of St. George's Church at Parrsboro. It looks like a sea gull but is said to be the 'shade' of Simon Gibbons. It will not sit on any other church in town and it always faces north, back towards his home and his Eskimo people."

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. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History
June 6, 1884 - The execution of Private Henry

KENN HARPER

I've written before about Adolphus Greely of the U.S. Army, who led the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition into the High Arctic in 1881, establishing his base of operations at Fort Conger. (March 27, 1935 - Adolphus Greely Awarded Congressional Medal of Honor). But space then did not permit me to write about a tragic event that occurred on that expedition in 1884.

In 1883, after two years without a supply ship, Greely and his men abandoned their base and began their desperate retreat south along the Ellesmere Island coast in small boats. Some boats were lost, and with them more of their ever-diminishing food supplies. Able to proceed no further, Greely established a winter camp at Cape Sabine, a location poor in game.

Over the winter food - what little remained - was carefully rationed. By spring-time everyone was starving. Everyone, apparently, except Private Charles B. Henry. He was the biggest man and had always been the heaviest eater of the party. Earlier, at Fort Conger, he had put on 25 pounds, and had startled some of his campmates by eating raw seal intestines with evident pleasure.

Greely and his confidants began to suspect that Private Henry was stealing food. The situation came to a head when half a pound of bacon went missing from a boat where it had been stored. That evening Henry complained of nausea and suddenly vomited into a pan. Sergeant Frederick examined the mess and declared it to be half-chewed raw bacon. The other men were incensed - Henry had been proven to be a thief. A trial of sorts ensued and Henry was put under close arrest and not allowed to leave the hut unaccompanied.

In fact, Private Henry was more than a thief; he was an imposter. His real name was Charles Henry Buck. Although born in Germany, he had an excellent command of English. Described as "splendid soldier material," he had joined the 7th Cavalry in 1876, but was given a dishonorable discharge and a year of hard labour for passing forged cheques. After his release, he had killed a Chinese man in a barroom brawl, then reinvented himself by inverting his name to Charles B. Henry and joining the 5th Cavalry, Greely's old outfit. He had then volunteered to serve under Greely in the Arctic.

By late spring 10 men were dead of starvation, and two more were on the point of death. The survivors' meager rations were supplemented by the tiny shrimp that live in Arctic waters, seaweed, the occasional bird or fox, and leather from thongs, ropes and articles of clothing. The fragility of life was perhaps summed up in a part of Greely's diary entry for June 4: "to sleep was perchance to die..."

And then Private Henry stole again. Greely's summation of this revelation in his journal in almost matter-of-fact: "Henry acknowledged again to me that he had been stealing, and I had a long conversation with him, in which I told him that as he had no conscience he might at least have a little common-sense; that it was evident that if any of the party survived, it must be through unity and fair dealing, otherwise everybody would perish. He promised to deal fairly in the future, and seemed impressed with my caution that he would come to grief if he did not." Doubting Henry's sincerity, Greely gave three of his men an order to shoot Henry immediately if he were seen eating any food not issued to him or "appropriating any article of provisions."

The following day was June 6. Sergeant Frederick caught Henry stealing shrimp from the messpot. Later in the day, Greely questioned Henry on the latter's return from the old winter-quarters, and Henry admitted taking sealskin thongs from the stores there, contrary to orders. Greely noted that he was "bold in his admissions, and showed neither fear nor contrition."

Greely immediately wrote out an order for Henry's execution. Addressed to Sergeants Brainard, Long and Frederick, it read: "Notwithstanding promises given by Private C. B. Henry yesterday, he has since acknowledged to me having tampered with seal thongs, if not other food, at the old camp. This pertinacity and audacity is the destruction of this party if not at once ended. Private Henry will be shot to-day, all care being taken to prevent his injuring any one, as his physical strength is greater than that of any two men. Decide the manner of death by two ball and one blank cartridge. This order is imperative, and absolutely necessary for any chance of life."

Private Henry was shot at 2 p.m. on that "fine, warm, clear day" on the shores of Ellesmere Island. A search of his effects revealed many hidden items of sealskin, items that could have been eaten in desperation, and should have been shared with others. The survivors agreed that Henry's fate was merited.

After rescue, Greely duly reported the execution to his superiors, and asked for a court of inquiry. The Secretary of War, however, concluded that Greely's order was justified, and declined to take any action.

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. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.

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