One day soon after, at 5.30 A.M., Madame and her boy came to my room to bid me a tearful adieu. It was arranged by the authorities that they must leave before nine o'clock that morning. There was much talk, and would I help her so kindly4 by buying her poor little rabbits. They would starve if left behind and she could not take them. "There were just three," she said. I bought them for twenty francs; thought they would make a savoury stew5 for our Mess.
About half past nine, I went to view my livestock6. When behold7, to my dismay, I found that my three rabbits had increased, in the course of nature, to ten, and there were signs of more "in the offing." On the top of this came an unexpected message for the Battalion8 to move out at 2 P.M. that day. I tried to sell my rabbits to the local butcher, who had been permitted to stay until he cleared out his stock of meat. But no, he wouldn't buy them. They weren't, of course, fit to kill for food. At last in desperation, for I couldn't leave the beasts to starve, I rounded up the half-dozen small boys left in the place and unloaded my rabbits on them. I knew the ordinary boy cannot resist the offer of a live rabbit, even though father and mother might object. I would be gone by that time anyway. I tell only the simple truth, (those who know rabbits will not question it), when I state that I had not three nor ten, but sixteen rabbits, big and little, to give away to the boys. A second contingent9 had arrived numbering six! I was relieved to be quit of them, for at the rate they had multiplied that day I could see myself, before many weeks, marching at the head of a battalion of rabbits!
It was pitiful to see these French people leaving the homes in which they, or their ancestors, had lived for generations. Pathos11 and humor combined, sometimes, in the appearance of the odd conveyances12 and the motive-power used. I saw one dear old lady propped13 up in a wheelbarrow, her son trundling her along. There were plenty other strange and sorry sights. With it all they seemed cheerful, and determined14 to make the best of everything.
This battalion-trek I stayed behind with a half-company of men who had been held by fatigue-duties. When we set out we decided15 to try a short-cut across the fields, but we wandered considerably16, and had not reached our destination when supper-time drew near. We had no provisions with us. While the men were resting by the road, tired, hot, and hungry, I sauntered off by myself to where I noticed a wreath of smoke above the trees of an orchard17. I saw a few soldiers there, standing18 by a fire not far from the farm-sheds. As I got closer two of them came hesitatingly towards me, saluted20, and one said, "Sir, is your name Pringle?" I said it was, and then we discovered that eighteen years before we had knocked around together in the Atlin gold-diggings.
They remembered me after all those years! They belonged to a detachment of Canadian Railway Troops. The upshot of it was that when I told them of my tired and hungry kilties, they got me into friendly touch with the Q.M. Sergeant21 billeted in the farmhouse22. He showed himself a right good fellow and in short order I was on my way back to my men heading a small but well-laden23 carrying-party. Our boys could hardly believe their eyes when they saw us toddling24 along, laden with two big kitchen dixies of hot tea, a dozen loaves of bread and a full tin of good, fresh hard-tack. The tea and rations10 refreshed us and made the remaining kilometres easy.
We found the battalion located in a picturesque25 little farm-village. The group of houses lay snugly26 hidden among trees, while out on all sides, over rolling land, one could see long stretches of cultivated fields, in blocks of brown and varying shades of green. Other than the farm buildings, there was only a small store, a blacksmith shop, and a tavern27. The houses were ancient, built with out-buildings to enclose a court-yard, in the centre of which was, almost invariably, a manure-pile and cess-pool.
The inhabitants were primitive28 in their ways, kindly farm-folk of simple manners, hard-working and apparently29 contented30.
One well, over 130 feet deep, served for public use. It was worked by a hand-windlass and to get a pail of water was a laborious31 process. The rough wooden shelter over it was erected32, so the inscription33 read, in 1879. I suppose it was an event in village history when that shelter was added. There must be a wide variety of things, besides water, at the bottom of that well. The water tasted good enough, but one's imagination should not be allowed to work too carefully over the subject.
Chatting along the way after we left the Railway Troops, my talk naturally turned from the kindness done us through those Klondike friends, to other fine men I knew in the North. I was made to promise to tell "the bunch" a Yukon Story some evening after we got properly settled in our new billets. Two or three nights afterwards, I redeemed34 my promise. In one of the old barns, sitting on a low beam, with the men lying around in the straw, I related to them the grim tragedy of the Lost Patrol.
* * * * *
In the annals of frontier-life anywhere you like in the world, nothing can be found more filled with heroic incident in the performance of duty and the maintenance of a high prestige, than the history of our own Canadian Mounted Police. I choose this particular story, because it exemplifies, so clearly, their dominating sense of duty and the quiet fortitude35 in the face of danger and death, characteristic of their splendid record. It occurred in the far North, in Klondike days, in a region through which I have travelled and so it has for me a double interest.
Every winter since the Big Stampede, the Mounted Police have patrolled the four hundred miles of wilderness36 lying between Dawson and Fort McPherson. The latter place consists of a dozen log buildings, on the MacKenzie, far in the Arctic. It is the centre of administration for a hundred thousand square miles of territory. Dawson, the well-known gold-camp, is on the Yukon River, close to the edge of the Arctic Circle. One round trip is made each winter, with dog-teams carrying mail, personal and official, needed to keep that Northern world of Indians, Eskimo, Whites, and half-breeds, in touch with civilization, and to uphold our British traditions of law and order.
The journey is always beset37 with dangers. One day out, and the members of the patrol know that their lives depend wholly on themselves. They may see no one else for twenty or thirty days. They will go through a vast and lonely land travelling along the wide valleys of frozen rivers, up long narrow gulches39 filled with snow, over miles of wind-swept mesas, and across high, treeless, mountain ridges40. "All goes well, if all goes well," is a proverb of the trail, for in winter-time there, death is always near. His opportunity comes easily in numerous ways. A gashed41 foot cut by a slip of the axe42 in getting firewood, a sprained43 ankle, an unsheltered camp with a blizzard44 in the night, fog, or wind, or snowstorm, sick dogs or men, short rations, a mile in the wrong direction, all these very simply lead to distress45, maiming or death. The greatest and commonest danger comes from the glacial overflows47. In winter the creeks49 freeze solid. This dams back the water in its sources in the banks, until the expulsive force in the hidden springs, deep in the mountains, drives the water out on top of the ice. Even in the most extreme cold you will find in these canyons50, under the snow or shoal ice, pools of this overflow46 water remaining liquid for hours. To get into this with moccasins means an immediate51 camp and fire, otherwise there will be frozen feet and permanent crippling, and if one is alone and dry wood not at hand, it is fatal. All these and more are the chances the experienced "musher" must be prepared to take. No "tenderfoot," in his right senses, would attempt such a long journey, in winter, alone.
It was the morning of December 21st, 1910, that the patrol left Fort McPherson for Dawson. It comprised Inspector52 Fitzgerald, Constables53 Taylor and Kinney, and Special Constable54 Carter, with three dog-teams of five dogs each. They expected to be in Dawson about the beginning of February. They never reached Dawson. Their comrades at Fort McPherson of course gave no anxious thought to them, and when the Dawson search-party came in at close of day on March 22nd, it was with surprise and horror, that they heard of the loss of the whole patrol. Next day the frozen bodies of all four were brought in, those who three months before had set out on that wilderness journey, so keen and strong. They were found within thirty miles of the Fort, but it was a long, long trail of 300 terrible miles that they had travelled.
Towards the end of January the Dawson police commenced to expect the patrol. After the first week in February, they became uneasy. On the 20th February some Fort McPherson Indians arrived in Dawson. One of them, named Esau, had been with the patrol, as guide, to the head of Mountain Creek48, where he was discharged on New Year's Day. The Police had lost their way, had come on this camp of Indians and employed Esau to guide them until Fitzgerald was satisfied the party could do without him, when he was dismissed. It was a tragic55 mistake.
On the 28th February, Supt. Snyder of the Dawson Post, fearing trouble, despatched the relief-party under Corporal Dempster, consisting in addition, of Constables Fyfe and Turner and a half-breed named Charles Stewart. March 12th, on the McPherson side of the Divide, Dempster saw the first sure traces of the lost patrol. In the Big Wind River valley he found a night-camp which had doubtless been made by the missing men. There were one or two empty butter and canned-beef tins lying about and a piece of flour-sack marked, "R.N.W.M. Police, Fort McPherson." The morning of March 16th, they discovered a toboggan and seven sets of dog-harness "cached" about six miles up Mountain Creek. On searching more carefully, a dog's paws and shoulder-blade were found, from the latter of which, the flesh had evidently been cooked and eaten.
Ten miles from Seven-Mile Portage, March 21st, Dempster noticed a blue handkerchief tied to a willow57. He went over to it, climbed the bank, and broke through the fringe of willows58 into the timber. There before his eyes was the end of a chapter in the sad story. In the snow lay the bodies of Constables Kinney and Taylor. A fire had been at their feet. Their camp kettle was half-full of moose-skin, which had been cut up into small pieces and boiled. Dempster's party cut some brush, covered the bodies with it, and went on in the direction of the Fort. He says in his report, "I had now concluded that Fitzgerald and Carter had left these two men in a desperate effort to reach the Fort, and would be found somewhere between this point and McPherson. Next morning, about ten miles further down the river, a trail appeared to lead towards the shore and while feeling in the new snow for the old tracks underneath59, we kicked up a pair of snow-shoes. We then climbed the bank and a little way back in the woods we came on the bodies of the other two men. This was Wednesday the 22nd March. Carter had died first, for he had been laid out upon his back, his hands crossed upon his breast and a handkerchief placed over his face. Fitzgerald lay near him."
Dempster and his party then went on to Fort McPherson arriving about six o'clock in the afternoon the same day. There help was obtained and the remains60 were brought in. On March 28th, the four bodies were laid side by side, in the same grave. The funeral service was read by the Rev61. C. E. Whittaker, the Church of England missionary62 at that remote point. A firing-party of five men fired the usual volleys over the grave. The brave men of the lost patrol had all come to their last camping-ground.
Fitzgerald's diary of the fatal journey was found. He had kept it up to Sunday, February 5th, when it ceased. Between the lines, for there is no sign of weakening in the written words, one can read the pathetic story of a long struggle against death from starvation and exposure, an heroic battle, maintained to the last in terrible agony. Let me quote but six entries from the diary. It was carefully written commencing December 21st, the day they left the Fort. It is a sad but thrilling drama extending over fifty days, staged in a mystic, white, winter-land, cruel and lonely, silent too, save for the howl of wolf or roar of mountain storm. Every entry is of absorbing interest, but the quotations63 suffice to tell of the fateful seven days spent in vainly searching for the pass up Forrest Gulch38, and then the brave struggle to retrace64 their steps to Fort McPherson. Death ever came closer, stalked at last beside them every moment. He had no power to destroy their unconquerable spirits but he finally claimed their weary, worn-out bodies. Here is the chronicle.
"Tuesday, Jan. 17th. Twenty three degrees below zero. Fine in the morning, with a strong gale65 in the evening. Did not break camp. Sent Carter and Kinney off at 7.15 A.M. to follow a river going south by a little east. They returned at 3.30 P.M. and reported that it ran right up into the mountains, and Carter said it was not the right river. I left at 8.00 A.M. and followed a river running south but could not see any cuttings on it. Carter is completely lost and does not know one river from another. We have now only ten pounds of flour, and eight pounds of bacon, and some dried fish. My last hope is gone (of getting through to Dawson) and the only thing I can do is to return and kill some of the dogs to feed the others and ourselves, unless we can meet some Indians. We have now been a week looking for a river to take us over the divide, but there are dozens of rivers and I am at a loss. I should not have taken Carter's word that he knew the way from Little Wind river."
* * * * *
"Tuesday, Jan. 24th. Fifty-six below. Strong south wind with very heavy mist. Left camp at 7.30, went six miles and found the river overflowed66 right across. Constable Taylor got in to the waist and Carter to the hips67, and we had to go into camp at 11.00 A.M. Cold intense for all the open water. Killed another dog and all hands made a good meal on dog-meat."
* * * * *
"Tuesday, Jan. 31st. Forty-five below. Sixty-two below in the afternoon. Left camp at 7.15 A.M. had to double-up teams for the first mile and a half. Nooned one hour and camped at 4.15 P.M. four miles from Caribou68 river. Going heavy, travelled part of the time on our old trail, but it was filled in. Skin peeling off our faces and parts of the body, lips all swollen69 and split. I suppose this is caused by feeding on dog-meat. Everybody feeling the cold very much for want of proper food. Made seventeen miles."
* * * * *
"Wednesday, Feb. 1st. Fifty-one below. Left camp at 7.30 A.M. and camped at 4.30 P.M. on the river where we start around Caribou Born mountain. Killed another dog to-night. This makes eight dogs that we have killed. We have eaten most of them and fed what dried fish we had to the dogs. Sixteen miles."
"Friday, Feb. 3rd. Twenty-six below. Left camp at 7.15 A.M. Men and dogs very thin and cannot travel far. We have gone about 200 miles on dog-meat and have still about 100 miles to go. I think we shall make it all right but will have only three or four dogs left. Fourteen miles."
* * * * *
"Saturday, Feb. 5th. Forty-eight below. Just after noon I broke through shoal ice and had to make fire, found one foot slightly frozen. Killed another dog to-night; have only five dogs now and can only go a few miles a day: everybody breaking out on the body and skin peeling off. Eight miles."
These were his last written words, except his will, scrawled70 on a torn piece of paper with a cinder71 from the burnt-out fire by which he died. It read;—"All money in despatch56 bag and bank, clothes etc., I leave to my beloved mother, Mrs. John Fitzgerald, Halifax. God bless all."
So, in brief, runs the story of the "Lost Patrol." There have been widely-heralded expeditions to North and South Poles. In their months of outfitting72 and general preparations, these expeditions left nothing undone73 to ensure safety that science could devise or money buy. They knew they had the eyes of the world upon them with the consequent urge to worthy74 endeavour. I wish to take no honour from them, but to me there is something finer in the way brave men in lonely places and at dangerous tasks, in civilian2 as in military life, risk death continually, not for glory, or fame, or riches, but simply in doing their routine of duty year after year. The world takes little notice, save when some startling tragedy occurs, and then soon forgets.
This story is not told in vain if it will remind Canadians of our own noble fellows, who in the wilds of our far-flung northern boundaries are adventuring their lives in these so-called "common" ways. "Their heroic efforts," says Commissioner75 Perry, "to return to Fort McPherson, have not been exceeded in the annals of Arctic travel. Corporal Dempster's reports show that the unfortunate men were wasted to shadows. All were strong, powerful, young men, and in the best of health and condition, when they left on their ill-fated journey. It is the greatest tragedy which has occurred in this Force during its existence of thirty-seven years. Their loss has been felt most keenly by every member, but we cannot but feel a thrill of pride at their firm endeavour to carry out their duty, and the subsequent prolonged struggle they made to save their lives."
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civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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livestock
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| n.家畜，牲畜 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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gulches
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| n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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gashed
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| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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sprained
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| v.&n. 扭伤 | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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overflows
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| v.溢出，淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 )；充满；挤满了人；扩展出界，过度延伸 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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53
constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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54
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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57
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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63
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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64
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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66
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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67
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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68
caribou
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| n.北美驯鹿 | |
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69
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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70
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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72
outfitting
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| v.装备，配置设备，供给服装( outfit的现在分词 ) | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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