WINTER QUARTERS 137 



the village of his father, as public opinion was against him for 

 some murders he had committed. With a grown-up son and 

 daughter he came to Flaxman Island, built a house, and settled 

 down. During a gale something was wanted from the rack 

 only a few yards from the house, and the son went out. He 

 did not return, and his sister went to look for him. When 

 neither returned, the old man went out, only to suffer the fate 

 of his children. They were unable to get back to their house 

 against the furious blasts of wind. The girl alone kept on 

 wandering, with the wind at her back, and arrived half frozen 

 to death at Sachawachick's igloo. For three days the wind 

 kept on blowing, and when it abated Sachawachick set out to 

 ascertain the full extent of the tragedy. He found both of the 

 men dead, and of the son only the head was left, the starved 

 dogs having eaten the rest. They were buried, but the girl 

 had gone mad, and though she lived, she paid for her life with 

 the loss of both of her feet. 



December 24 came, and with it fine weather, calm and clear. 

 We opened some Christmas boxes which friends in Copen- 

 hagen and Victoria had made for us. From the blind girls who 

 had knitted our woollen stockings, etc., there was a small present 

 for each of us. From my sister we found some books and a 

 letter to me which sent my thoughts back to the dear ones at 

 home, longing for the Christmas they were celebrating and 

 thinking of the many Christmas-times we had spent together in 

 the days of childhood. An old ship's officer who had been my 

 superior not many years ago, and who had helped with the 

 packing of our things, had out of his slender means sent us a 

 game of dominoes. Mrs. Nanton, of Victoria, B.C., had sent a 

 big Christmas cake, and so had others of our lady acquaintances 

 there; and Leiser & Co., our grocers, had packed a really 

 magnificent box, containing plum pudding and sweets, cigars 

 and cigarettes, and other good things. It was a fine box, and 

 Joe Carrol was allowed to take as much of our provisions as he 

 needed to make us a really splendid dinner. 



But what a lonely thing a Christmas is on board ship and in the 

 Arctic ! We have all spent so many a merry Christmas with 

 our families and friends, and the day holds such pleasant 

 memories for all of us, that we are always bound to feel home- 

 sick on that day. And although we begin the feast with an 



