December 23, 2005
Taissumani: A Day
in Arctic History
Dec. 25, 1913 – “To the Loved Ones at Home”
To those who explored the Arctic a century ago, especially those shipbound
in areas where they did not encounter Inuit, Christmas could be a lonely and
cheerless time. But the sailors made the most of their situations, and did whatever
they could to alleviate the isolation with homemade entertainments and festivities
that mimicked as closely as possible the Christmas they might have had at home.
Stefansson’s Canadian Arctic Expedition explored in the western Canadian
Arctic from 1913 until 1918. During a gale in the Arctic Ocean in 1913, the
Karluk, locked in the ice pack, began a westward drift which was to last for
three months until the ship sank north of Siberia in January. More than 60 years
later, William Laird McKinlay, magnetician and meteorologist on the expedition,
published an account of his time aboard that ship. In it, he tells of how he
passed the Christmas of 1913 fast in the Arctic ice, with thoughts of home,
but at peace in his frozen environment.
“My feeling of calm, even happy resignation, took me right through the
week of continuous gales, which battered our ship from 18 December until 24
December, raging up to eighty miles an hour and blinding us with snowdrift.
There seemed to be every prospect of a very white Christmas, and everything
else was pushed into the background of our minds as we prepared for celebrating
Christmas Day.
“Williamson and I had prepared a programme of sports which we hoped to
carry out on the ice. On Christmas Eve, when the wind moderated to a fresh breeze,
we laid out a course for flat and obstacle races, making areas for jumping,
shot-putting, and so on. It was impossible to find completely level patches,
so our stadium was far short of Olympic standards, but by dinner-time on Christmas
Eve we had everything ready.
“The Christmas spirit was taking hold, and when the Captain produced a
bottle of whisky for the boys for’ard, and another for our mess, there
were loud cheers. Officially we carried no intoxicating liquor, but we had a
case of whisky on board intended as a gift from Stefansson to the Royal North-West
Mounted Police when we reached Herschel. There were many requests for the tots
of the teetotalers — Captain, Malloch and myself. I put mine up to the
cut of the cards, and Mate Sandy Anderson won. There was a lot of laughter and
joking, and for the first time in ages everyone was really looking forward to
the next day.
“At 5:30 a.m. on Christmas morning, Williamson, Anderson and I got busy
decorating the saloon. We dug out the stock of international flags and hung
them from the deck above, draping them all round the walls. Then, with ribbon
which Hadley had meant for trading with the Eskimos in Banks land, we dressed
everything we could in red, white and blue. On a large piece of sail canvas
we painted Christmas greetings and suspended it opposite the Skipper’s
end of the table. Behind his chair we draped the Canadian ensign. The result
looked really festive and the boys coming in for breakfast were pleasantly surprised.
“After breakfast we held our sports. It was bitterly cold, and muffled
up as we were, slithering about and crashing on the ice, there was more likelihood
of bones than records being broken. But the hazards brought out hidden resources
of skill and agility. There were many minor injuries, but nothing serious, and
after a rest we assembled in the saloon to eat our Christmas dinner. I had typed
copies of the menu, which everyone tucked away carefully afterwards as a souvenir.
Here it is:
DCS Karluk
Arctic Ocean
Lat 72º 3’ 43’ N.; Long. 172º 48’ W.
Christmas Day, 1913
Dinner Menu
‘Such a bustle ensued’
Mixed Pickles Sweet Pickles
Oyster Soup
Lobster
Bear Steaks
Ox Tongue
Potatoes Green Peas
Asparagus and Cream Sauce
Mince Pies Plum Pudding
Mixed Nuts
Tea Cake
Strawberries
‘God rest you, merry gentlemen.’
“When we were all seated Captain Bartlett produced another bottle of whisky
and passed it round. In his own, Malloch’s and my glass, he poured just
a drop, whispering to us to follow his example. Then, ‘Fellows’, he
said, ‘I want you to drink one toast. Stand, please.’ And as we stood
up and held our glasses high, he led us in the toast — ‘To the loved
ones at home.’ It was a solemn moment, and we were all very quiet for a
few moments. Our thoughts were thousands of miles away.
“It was a splendid meal, and when it was over the Captain produced one
of the boxes of ‘goodies’ presented by the good ladies of Victoria
for Christmas and New Year — cake, shortbread, cigars and sweets. After
that we were fit for nothing but lying on our bunks for the rest of the day.
In the evening we sat around smoking and listening to the gramophone. We felt
we ought to be doing something festive, but the euphoria had gone, we had all
over-eaten, and one by one we crept off to bed.”
Merry Christmas.
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.
December 16, 2005
Taissumani: A Day
in Arctic History
Dec. 17, 1856 – The ship Resolute presented to Queen Victoria
In 1852, a fleet of five ships left England to continue in the search for the
lost expedition of Sir John Franklin. The expedition was under the command of
Sir Edward Belcher, who himself commanded one of the ships.
Capt. Henry Kellett was in command of the Resolute, sailing through Lancaster
Sound and on to Melville Island, where he wintered at Dealy Island. The following
summer, ice conditions were difficult and Resolute was unable to return very
far eastward. Kellett had no choice but to winter again, this time off Bathurst
Island.
In the spring of 1854, Edward Belcher controversially ordered the abandonment
of all of the ships under his command except for the North Star, which had remained
at Beechey Island as a floating supply depot. He and all the crews returned
home in her and two other supply ships which arrived that summer. Thus began
the incredible saga of the Resolute.
Abandoned on May 13, 1854 against the wishes of Capt. Kellett, she drifted
with the ice eastward through Lancaster Sound and south into Baffin Bay and
Davis Strait. Sixteen months later, on Sept. 10, 1855, a veteran whaling master,
Captain James Buddington, on the whaling barque George Henry, sailing out of
New London, Connecticut, was himself trapped in dense ice off the coast of eastern
Baffin Island, south of present-day Qikirtarjuaq. He sighted a ship some distance
off, and thought she might be an abandoned vessel. But ice conditions prevented
him checking out the situation immediately. Six days after sighting her, the
two ships were still seven miles apart. He sent four men over the ice to investigate
the ghost ship. When they returned, they reported to Buddington that it was
Her Britannic Majesty’s ship, Resolute.
A salvage at sea was potentially valuable. Buddington was elated. The Resolute
was free of water and largely undamaged. Buddington himself took charge of her
and, with a small crew, sailed her back to New London. His only navigational
aids were an untrustworthy compass and an outline of the North American coast
drawn on a single sheet of foolscap. The water tanks had burst, making the ship
very light and prone to an exaggerated roll in heavy seas. At one point, they
were storm-driven almost to Bermuda.
Buddington arrived in New London with his prize on Christmas Eve. The British
government, notified of the find, formally waived all claim to the vessel. The
United States Congress then took an unusual action. It purchased the Resolute
for $40,000 from Buddington’s employer. Buddington himself never saw any
of the money, although he did arrange for some to be paid to his crew. The Resolute
was moved to Brooklyn Navy Yard and repaired with the utmost care to make her
fit for Arctic service once again. The United States government then made the
unprecedented gesture of formally presenting the restored ship to “the
Queen and people of Great Britain.”
By the fall of 1856 all was ready. On the 13th of November, Captain Hartstein
of the United States Navy sailed the Resolute out of New York and headed across
the Atlantic. The crossing was uneventful. She reached Spithead and was towed
to Cowes on the Isle of Wight where she lay by the Royal anchorage at Trinity
Wharf. Queen Victoria arrived soon after. With the flags of both nations flying
above the Resolute, on Dec. 17 Captain Hartstein presented the vessel to Britain
with these words:
“Allow me to welcome your Majesty on board the ‘Resolute,’ and,
in obedience to the will of my countrymen and of the President of the United
States, to restore her to you, not only as an evidence of a friendly feeling
to your sovereignty, but as a token of love, admiration, and respect to your
Majesty personally.”
The Queen responded with a gracious smile and the words, “I thank you,
Sir.”
With the symbolic transfer over, the formal transfer happened two weeks later,
on Dec. 30. But the amazing story of the Resolute was not yet at an end.
The ship never returned to the Arctic. Instead, and amazingly, the Admiralty
eventually ordered their gift dismantled. In 1879 she was reduced to a ghastly
hulk. But remembering America’s gift of two decades earlier, Queen Victoria
ordered that a desk, six feet long and four feet wide, be constructed from Resolute’s
timbers. In an act of reciprocity and graciousness, the queen sent this desk
as a gift to President Rutherford S. Hayes “as a memorial of the courtesy
and loving kindness which dictated the offer of the gift of the ‘Resolute.’”
Thus, a piece of the Resolute crossed the Atlantic once again. The magnificent
desk sits in the Oval Office in the White House today. In the famous picture
of young John Kennedy, son of President John F. Kennedy, peering out from under
his father’s desk, it is the Resolute desk he is under.
Finally, on Feb. 15, 1965 British Prime Minister Harold Wilson presented the
bell of the Resolute to President Lyndon Johnson.
In Canada, the ship is remembered in the name of the small Inuit community
on Cornwallis Island.
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.
December 9, 2005
Taissumani: A Day
in Arctic History
Dec. 9, 1947 - Canon Turner dies in a Winnipeg hospital
(Continued from Last
Week)
In England during the winter
of 1939-40, John Turner met a young woman, Joan Hobart. But he returned to the
Arctic alone. In 1943 he sent for her and the following year she travelled to
Pond Inlet aboard the Nascopie. They were married a few hours after her arrival.
The following year a daughter, June, was born. That summer, Turner left the
work at Pond Inlet to other missionaries, and the family moved to the isolated
two-room house at Moffet Inlet. Next September another daughter, Barbara Grace,
was born.
At ship-time in 1947, the
Turners were at Arctic Bay to pick up supplies, then returned to Moffet Inlet
in their boat, the Ebenezer. John was anxious to get back to his translation
work. He was at the peak of his productivity. He had revised the New Testament
in Inuktitut, prepared a number of books of the Old Testament for publication,
translated many hymns, and almost completed the translation of the Book of Common
Prayer.
On Sept. 24, two young
Inuit girls, Rebecca (who lived with the Turners) and Elizabeth, were outside
breaking up ice to carry indoors to replenish the Turners' fresh water supply.
One called that there was a seal near the shore. John picked up his rifle and
went outside. On his return, he slipped the gun under his left arm so that he
could help Elizabeth carry her bucket of ice up the steps. Somehow, the trigger
was released. The bullet tore through his upper lip, fractured the base of his
skull, and entered the right side of his brain. He fell backwards down the steps
and into the snow. Joan, six months pregnant, had been trained as a nurse, and
administered first aid.
David Tuurngaaluk headed
for Arctic Bay in the mission boat to summon help. Ed Jordan, a radio operator
there, transmitted a call for help, and John Cormack of the Hudson's Bay Company
hurried southwards in the company's motor launch to assist Joan. The Department
of National Defence mounted a rescue operation.
But it would be a difficult
rescue. There were no airstrips in the area, and the district was virtually
unmapped. Graham Rowley, a veteran Arctic explorer with the federal government,
and Rev. Maurice Flint, who had been at Moffet Inlet with Turner, participated
in the planning. Turner had been promoted to the position of canon in the church
in 1939, and so the rescue mission was dubbed "Operation Canon."
On Oct. 2 a heavily-laden
Dakota aircraft left Winnipeg bound for the Arctic. After stops at Churchill
and Southampton Island, the plane made for Moffet Inlet. Joan heard the plane
through thick fog in the late morning of October 4. Her husband was in bad shape,
his breathing poor. Everything depended on the weather. Then miraculously, the
fog lifted and the airmen sighted the mission.
Four paratroopers jumped
over a frozen lake nearby and the plane returned to its base. Captain Ross Willoughby,
a doctor, administered what care he could to the patient, whose left side was
completely paralyzed. The rest of the party scoured the area for a suitable
place for the ski-equipped Dakota to land. Finally, in early November, a landing
strip was prepared on a lake 23 miles south of the mission.
Throughout all this, John
Turner remained optimistic. He even interpreted when necessary for his rescuers.
On his last Sunday there, he made a futile attempt to play the concertina with
one hand, while Inuit prayed with his family in an adjoining room. Finally,
on Nov. 21, almost two months after his gunshot wound to the head, it was time
for John Turner to leave. Noah Piugaattuq, who had accompanied Turner on so
many sled trips in the past, drove him on his last journey to the frozen lake
where the plane, named The Blizzard Belle, awaited.
Piugaattuq had his own
idea of what had caused his friend's accident. It was all the fault of a shaman
who resented Turner's attempts to extend the gospel westward to the Natsilingmiut
Inuit. More than four decades later Piugaattuq recalled, "His mental condition
had changed as well as his way of doing things which resulted in this unfortunate
accident. As it turned out this was the work of a shaman from the Nattilingmiut
who was able to beat this minister."
After a delay of some hours
occasioned by bad weather, the plane took off. It overnighted at Coral Harbour,
and reached Winnipeg late the following afternoon.
Canon Turner was immediately
taken to the Winnipeg General Hospital, where a medical team gave him the best
of care. But his left side remained paralysed. Although he remained conscious
and was able to recognize people and talk a little, his condition was deteriorating.
On Dec. 6 he lost consciousness. Three days later he died.
John Turner's wife and
two daughters had travelled to Winnipeg aboard the rescue plane, accompanied
by the Inuit girl, Rebecca. His third daughter, Faith, was born to Joan a few
weeks after John's death. John Hudspith Turner was laid to rest in the cemetery
of St. John's Cathedral, Winnipeg. His family departed soon after for England.
Noah Piugaattuq apparently
thought that Turner might have lived if he had remained at Moffet Inlet. He
said, "He passed away as a result of a shamanistic curse placed on him.
While he was at his home he was recovering slowly as a result of prayers offered
to him."
Perhaps one of John Turner's
diary entries from earlier in the year of his death should be his epitaph: "I
love this country and its people... This is my first love."
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.
December 2, 2005
Taissumani: A Day
in Arctic History
Dec. 3, 1937 - Canon Turner
establishes mission at Moffet Inlet
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
John
Hudspith Turner was one of four missionaries crowding tiny Pond Inlet in the
1930s. (PHOTO COURTESY OF KENN HARPER)
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John Hudspith Turner was
born in England in July 1905, four months after the death of his father. Young
John was close to his two brothers and grew into a popular young man, athletic,
a swimmer, "a fearless, strapping young man, self-confident but never arrogant...
wholesome but not particularly religious."
In March 1926, John and
his brother Arthur both answered the call of the foreign mission field and joined
the Bible Churchmen's Missionary Society. Both men felt called to work in the
Canadian Arctic.
In 1894, Edmund James Peck
had established a mission at Blacklead Island in Cumberland Sound. Another station
was later built at Lake Harbour. But in 1915 the Church Missionary Society had
withdrawn from Arctic work and the mission stations were left in the hands of
partially-trained native catechists. Ten years later, the Bishop of Moosonee
appealed to the new Bible Churchmen's Missionary Society to reopen this Arctic
work. It was this call that the Turner brothers answered.
Arthur Turner left for
Pangnirtung in 1928. The next year, John, 24 years of age, set out for Pond
Inlet. He and fellow missionary, Harold Duncan, travelled aboard the Hudson's
Bay Company ship, Nascopie, to establish the most northerly mission in the British
Empire. When they arrived on September 2, the Inuit immediately gave both newcomers
Inuktitut names. Turner was called Mikinirsaq - the smaller one - because he
was shorter than Harold Duncan - Anginirsaq - who stood well over six feet tall.
The Nascopie's crew helped
Turner and Duncan erect the framework of their mission house. But with the ship's
departure, the rest of the construction was left to the missionaries and the
Inuit who helped them. They were not the only missionaries there, however. That
same year, two Roman Catholic priests also arrived at Pond Inlet. Only 380 Inuit
lived in northern Baffin Island, in widely scattered camps. Most visited Pond
Inlet only sporadically to trade at the HBC post there. Suddenly there were
four missionaries vying for their attention.
There was no spirit of
ecumenicalism in the Arctic in those days. In fact, for years the Catholics
and Anglicans never even spoke with each other. In 1931 Turner wrote in his
diary: "The R. C's. have been more active this year and just recently I
felt led to give some direct warning against them... when I learned of definite
attempts by our adversaries to pervert the people - and you are not ignorant
of Rome's devices - I felt the time had come for something more aggressive."
In Turner's diary for 1946
he wrote: "Those who have been asked here why they follow the priests have
acknowledged that they have no desire to do so but simply respond to pressure.
The priest tells them that unless they follow him they will die."
Some years earlier he had
written in his journal of a church service he had held in a snow house. "This
morning just as we started our service in one of the snow houses here I was
surprised to see one of the priests coming in." The priest listened to
Turner's service, then rose and said he had his own message for the people.
There followed a theological argument in the presence of the congregation. A
biographer of Turner has written, "It is a hard thing for primitive Eskimo
to see white men, professing to follow the Lord Jesus Christ, who will not shake
hands or greet one another."
Because the Inuit population
lived in widely dispersed camps, John Turner became a skilled traveller by dog
team. From Pond Inlet he travelled to Pangnirtung to visit his brother in 1935.
In the winter of 1940-41 he crossed Baffin Island from the Clyde River area
to Foxe Basin. His travels took him south as far as Repulse Bay, and west to
King William Island, as well as all over north Baffin. A biographer estimated
that in his entire Arctic career, Turner travelled 24,300 miles by dog sled.
During his 17 years of
missionary work, Turner returned to England only twice, first in 1933 and again
in 1939, each time for one winter.
In the fall of 1937, Turner
left Pond Inlet by sled for Arctic Bay, in search of a site for a new mission
station. On December 3 he wrote these words in his diary:
"Arrived at Sioralik
(Moffet Inlet) feeling definitely that this is God's will to stop and build
here. Snow was deep and going hard on dogs for whom we had not much reserve
food. Huge loads - the native had a load of stores and I had lumber for shack
(including door, windows, nails - 130 pounds) besides 400 or 500 pounds of other
gear."
The rest of the construction
is treated succinctly: "December 4. Finish foundations and floor of store
and begin sides. Temperature -43 F. Cold on hands!" "December 11.
Go into store - leaving David (native helper) and family in an 'igloo' (snow
house). NOT enough wood to finish store roof so use sail."
For a time the mission
at Moffet Inlet - Siuralik in modern Inuktitut orthography - was used only sporadically,
during Turner's travels to that area. Eventually it would become his home, and
the site of a horrible tragedy.
(To be 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. Feedback? Send your comments and questions
to kennharper@hotmail.com.
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