CHAPTER XXXIX 



A SUMMER VISIT TO HERSCHEL ISLAND 



ON the way to Herschel Island we stopped at Cape Bathurst to 

 see if there were any news of Wilkins or of Dr. Anderson's 

 party in the east. There was none of either. Many anxious 

 inquiries were made of me regarding Captain Bernard. The news of 

 his death, I was told, had come a few days before. Since I had left 

 the Captain entirely well at Kellett only yesterday it was news of 

 peculiar interest to me. My informants were positive, however, and 

 when I tried to engage Eskimos to go back with me to Banks Island 

 the rumor was started that I was trying to conceal the fact of Ber- 

 nard's death so as not to scare others from going north with me. 

 There were only two or three white men at Bathurst at this time, but 

 I gathered that they no less than the Eskimos were in doubt which 

 story to believe. When I started to trace the yarn I soon got it 

 back to a man who had dreamt it — but the dream had been very 

 vivid. Even when I was able to produce the dreamer, and in spite 

 of the corroboration of my story by the Polar Bear's men, some of 

 the Eskimos still believed in Bernard's death. In these days of 

 modern skepticism such faith is refreshing. 



Although I now had little hope that Wilkins would arrive with 

 the Star, I left instructions for him with Tom Emsley of the Rosie 

 H* If he came he was to proceed to Kellett and thence as far 

 north as he could get along the west coast of Banks Island, pref- 

 erably to the northwest corner, Cape Alfred. 



On the way to Herschel from Bathurst we fell in with a school 

 of bowhead whales. This seemed such a wonderful chance to get 

 dog feed for next winter that we devoted half a day to the killing 

 and cutting up of one of these great animals. It was rather large — 

 said to be between sixty and seventy feet long. The shot that 

 killed it was fired by Constable Parsons. Parsons had been an 

 officer on a sailing ship before he became a policeman and he is the 



*See various references to the Rosie H. and her owner, Fritz Wolki, in 

 "My Life With the Eskimo." 



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