MISSIONARY HEROES COURSE LIFE STORIES OF GREAT MISSIONARIES FOR TEEN AGE BOYS ARRANGED IN PROGRAMS WILFRED T. m GRENFELL Knight-Errant of the North Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner B y BASIL MATHEWS Program Prepared hy FLOYD L. CARR Baptist Board of Education DEPARTMENT OF MISSIONARY EDUCATION 276 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY Course No. 1 1 >y;y£r -■ - - z .kik mm mm -rf-t?: j -4 4 4 - • ;■ ;>.: Vuk ; . '' kkkkf’ k - ; C V' ? V- - ir. ^ - >;. k.k-.-'^k. ■ •• * \ ''', * ... SKSi • >k ' •/' ''v' : < 4 ' - V ' ■' ; ’ ' (V. kkk •■■■ : - 'U^i U.M x £ k-- ' fcfc'v yip '. - ■•' • ■•■■■■n j .: ,xv ; , • • ■■ ? ■ - : -'v r'■-■■;•'•- 4 ••• e mi ■ ' #i ■■. ■ ■ §: y '-"P;vP * 4 t ■ - r- V • a/. H MM . ^r- VMM ,•'VM ' % ^ ,• M -x '-> "' MV-S M' S. , : >-A ■ ■ ■ * . ' v M'fV ■ ,r'M r MMVM cMvk;:u'M>^||%M'.kM:k^ ;'.v v MM; M ikM.k>v , -vkMkv ss-vM s Mv-'MMMrMsMvs / v: /• V? '■.' ,; ' ■'.». .. v.'-iv-'.-,v i'i? • ' IMpftf - ■ v v ■ v -•'■ M •" v ..-•- • •:., T ‘ MkMvJMMvkkkkkk^kk^kkMk^Ck'. v , • ■ '.:■ ■ ■ * l m :.’ - s w ,' . -ip - ■ . T. r f .- p ■ v^ % ^ ri» \ ■ -■ ^ . I : I ■ ^' l '- ,^K<< ... **; ^ m$‘i , . Wk ' ' i- fe i : ■ v ?■ • ■ 1 ' '. V r I. " ■ Vj..-;.;, . •■ . .' , ... ■ :- ■ > : 7 ;,^ i/.,£■-'■ Vf ,, ■■-* . v ■< _ \ *;, • ;< ; .§|M . ■ ' ■■■■-■■ .' • -f-- -' v o;■"•■ • :••’ . ./.,■, . ■■■■" -.•• :V -.- ■:■■-■•<.,.. ;••■ -■ ■%■ 65 ■' . v; \- ....... - g 1 5 .-' - - "k ' .. • ■«' '' ;. -'' , . --C ..' - -s.*' ■ ■ y-\. £&y. ,vV /■ •- ! ■■ • . -jS :.. • • . A • - .¥' • -V '•■ : '• ':y‘\ ,-^ 4 -; *by Mis X 2 &si M- - M .:--rV-. -..K’:.- iSi . -xSvx-- .jy..--T.-.- -V -S ■ 'r-■■■’■■ ,;.', .,. t , 1 ■ ■ - s*. s :■ - a:- ' x;.s' •. i'?j^ag^fc i e^;r's.''r c - V "•''-i ;:V ‘M" f 42 . - ;; ; .;..,- ; T - ;•■; .... _ r ._ K .,.., ' :0 t '.'C. ..! V ■ s : -. -H 'sM : '...?M'i. ; . ;4i .>.vC',- ' r ‘- f . •/ • ~ T--.-' j, • '■■■„■■ "y: >■ ZpJcr* ■r yrryyx, yp ' 1 -i-- i|k^H !® " ■ ''iky y pA - w- ' v»< ‘ •’ *.V' !- ' ^^- v.-r-V- •■-.v,^' A .s.^kpkx. ‘Wy y .. ; ,- ■ ■ •..■ ".. ■ -.. ' . • ;- -> .V.. / - ■. '-I 1 Mxr-i',\s #•« y > :, ; ^ - / ; * • • _ -, ! -'^' 1 ■,; ■■■.:.. a;s.: ; ■_•' ■ fi..S-. '■■ '../vM - s C^-'i • ■> '••... ■'■. : p - •'". : "' ! v . Tf . -- M . I K-MI . ’ . ■ -f : -mv-* % WM yyp$' : yimp: v "i 'MM ■-■; -4i '. . . ". .. ; y-Pn yp-yypi' . "... ■' .< ••s^. -V- v'. ., x.. A, : ;,.., P S'’ iy ,’W ./ .'.-. v H ivMs. (p mm’ . -. ;-r:vv. x.-v ’, . : >M VMM.’ -.-AS! SMBBasaa =•* fh Eg ■ ■'pWZ tf -''i kk*3r3^vk'-\ ' • ^' ; U; 0PP .k-k r kt- 1 fe s-.^kk v Ms iife v‘ kre k .'P '-Uam. 1 .. ■« kr- X- 44 k ■■ ■=; ’kskM :/■ H’-S’ . k * 4.' : v4> P'S ■ ; s-'-V:.- ■-«';.,■■. . 'v ;.V.- V-' ....■; . . :._ •■'■■ _ , • ; - -k V ■■: t ■ ~ ■■ - i. • ■.. > 4 ' ■ ..> '. -. » • LjfC •*’«>'-S- ■ : • M:' ‘0&&m '■'•■.■<■■' v : V.s ■ "■■■ >••■''; ..-.VJ”, 4 : ; 4..‘4 ■'■;•,■■■'■ V i ■ ;>>■ v •x- i.A i rt ■ •. y. .,- .. - ..<:»*■ : i';- \ . * • 'rM k'‘ iifiki'p. -iV." ;. - .; ■ ■ <■ sMpV'' ■ - -' • = > .- , Mv" ' -' . '/kiv ■. ‘ '{■ ; S ••> ■• -•. V ■ - .rytf r ■- .. ;!• -. . • • ••. ' ' *'•■ -k.vo ‘ v/' •• 4 . M' =’ 4 Mv- .Tf ' .. ,r w&' rJ X v •• \ *jr-y’ ,Yi -. ■■■a. ■” “'■’--ss ■-■■■', • • ... ,: , kk,. : *om -k: ? yiijyp^yi; k>' v - ".tvklk.TM 1 . -V-: ■. 4 ..-'t- <7 -'MM a:'M' v M ;.r ( . 'A- S'CA . .'Aw' ' :i '•'•./• -w'P : . 'SP'.V \ .S. ■ •:-•■,.■ -, ■ ■« • M ; / . ■; 4 s ;iM.'^ . -. y . '' SJT ■ ‘ . - /•■ . .. ." c . „• ■ ; '■ .....'S.', ■; ..'W + ■. ' 'p • ..’■ '■" s A .pips - v.. - • '■ •,*•■■•■■,■• - •■■ . v '. s '£^, ; -r-.;/' SA'if At.,. : ^ ■•.••• ........ -. .., ^ -$ 3 p 5 ^ " M' -.C-/: Stefas y J's- ... , , , ? . . ■ v „ , ■ ' .•* ■ * '. ^." .. ’ .--n.' .. '• /l , ■' -V- ■ * ' ....'. . '-• ' '■. - '■a - v • ■-■. -fi>.:-r : ' ■spy i - ' '..-.■ ' . y - sa V:.' '.. '/•. ? .'pp' i\y w ■■: . ti S..-1 yyy +*. y^xpy-ippiyy: ?■.!?£•«■ .v.;a -r'P"'... ; f sf. ; .SAffA .'.rv/Aj '■Hipy i' k ■ 4-.x vV - MM'. •- • ■■■>: ,4i / v ,.. , ./ ;. ' ;■ ; i ^kkk'kk'kkk k ? ■ : k M-k k-k ' k V . ,-. # •:• kk ^ kv : ■ ' ^ $: - ,/. .. -■ ' p v m * k ■ ' -■ . .." o ■ - . v ■ -.fMvk. - ' ■ ■■ • .• . . • . ' ., > -S'/-A'p. . vk':4'r .' ":5- ?• 'k.j. . ... . >\.^ J .v k ■ 7 aH y,

|;'4g:. .... ■ ' ' . • ' ... - . ' '' j- ' V M ^ ’ . -' , V —-I*-’.'-' '- ■ J ‘ \ . ■ \ , ■ /- • --^.» . ••■--. .* • * . -‘ ' • • ‘ . ■ > 'Tv • •• ’. 1 *’.y , '.S'.i'PS. ’MV: . ■ ' ' : 4 X ' .' p-pv-i • ' ' *k. 'US ,-' " ., V; ; 'k 4 - . .^ U \ <;.' .-,i ; .s * .. .."'p' •, ■ ■' •' U. ; " rv ■■ ■ • . r ■ J' . . . • *-'k— •"' - - 'k ' < kMkk 'sk'.u.:> : iM"M-,' ;.-;.■ v/u^'-. ^ .:k.M;- ■■uvk ' " ■ ' ; . ' v ^ k ' i { . . ...:. p . • . " - ' S" •: - WsffdkM V;• ,k.'Jk#kk .; : w- kAy ^■l.% 1. Wilfred T. Grenfell Knight-Errant of the North SOURCE BOOK “Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner” By Basie Mathews Baptist Board of Education DEPARTMENT OF MISSIONARY EDUCATION 276 Fifth Avenue, New York City Outline PAGE Introductory Statement .,. 2 Program for Meeting. 3 Life Sketch... . 4 Life Incidents. 6 Program based upon Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner by Basil Mathews Doran, $1.50 FOREWORD T HE Missionary Heroes Course for Boys meets a real need. It is a series of missionary programs for boys, based on great biographies which every boy should know. Course Number One, now available, provides programs for the ensuing twelve months and may be used in the monthly meetings of boys’ groups. Other courses are in preparation and will be issued for subse¬ quent years. It is suggested that the leader purchase three copies of each leaflet, one to be kept for reference and the other two to be cut up to provide each boy with his assigned part. In order to tie together the life incidents as they are presented by the boys, the leader should master the facts outlined in the biographical sketch and read carefully the volume upon which the program is based. These volumes are missionary classics and may be made the basis of a worth-while library of Christian adventure. Boys are keenly interested in stories of adventure and achievement and it is hoped that participation in the programs will lead many of the lads to read these great missionary biog¬ raphies. Attention is called to the eleven other life-story pro¬ grams in the series now available for Course Number One, and to the series now in preparation for the ensuing year, both of which are listed on the last page. The books upon which these programs are based can be ordered from the nearest literature headquarters. Portraits of these missionary heroes will also be made available for purchase. While these programs have been developed to meet the needs of boys’ organizations of all types— i.e., Organized Classes, Boy Scouts, Knights of King Arthur, Kappa Sigma Pi, etc.—they were especially prepared for the chapters of the Royal Ambas¬ sadors, a missionary organization for teen age boys, originating in the southland and recently adapted to the needs of the North¬ ern Baptist Convention by the Department of Missionary Edu¬ cation. We commend these materials to all lovers of boys. William A. Hill. PROGRAM FOR MEETING 1. Scripture Reading: Matthew 4:18-23. Verse 19— “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men 7 7 —is inscribed on the wheel of the Strathcona, Dr. Grenfell’s hospital ship. (See page 159 of “Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner, 77 by Basil Mathews.) 2. Prayer. 3. Hymn: “Throw Out the Life-Line. 77 Ira Sankey tells us that this hymn was often sung in the Moody and Sankey Meetings in England. Grenfell tells how the announcement of a hymn by Dwight L. Moody, when a man prayed too long, arrested his interest and led to a decision to “do as Christ would in my place as a Doctor. 77 (See page 35 of the above book.) 4. Introduction to the Life Story # (based upon pages 1-29 of the above book). 5. Grenfell Decides to Become a Doctor (pages 30-32). 6. Taking Slum-boys Camping (pages 38-40). 7. Caring for the North Sea Fishermen (pages 40-42, 44-45). 8. Grenfell Sails for Labrador (pages 50-51, 52-53). 9. Welcomed to Labrador (pages 58-61). 10. Grenfell’s Call to His Life Work (pages 61-63). 11. Securing Buildings and-Helpers (pages 66-69). 12. An Eskimo’s Gratitude (pages 86-87). 13. Responding to a Call for Help (pages 134, 136-139). 14. Carried to Sea on an Ice-pan (pages 143-145, 148-149, 157). 15. The Strathcona as a Hospital (pages 158, 165-167). 16. Economic Uplift Work (pages 168-170). * The leader should read both the brief sketch in this leaflet and “Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner,” by Basil Mathews, in order, as the program progresses, to fill the gaps between the assignments. The full story of Dr. Grenfell’s life, as told by himself, is found in “A Labrador Doctor,” Houghton Mifflin Company, $ 5 . 00 . 3 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF WILFRED T. GRENFELL ILFRED T. GRENFELL was born on February 28, 1865, VV at Parkgate, near Chester, England. Ilis father was the headmaster of the Mostyn House School, a school for boys. Here by the sea, he swam, fished, hunted, and later sailed up and down the shores, imbibing deeply that love of the sea that shaped his later life. During his eighteenth year he decided to become a doctor and entered London University to prepare himself for that profession. During his second year he was profoundly stirred by an address by Dwight L. Moody and determined to make his religion real and practical. He at once interested himself in the boys of the East End of London. For several summers he took groups of boys from the slums camping by the sea. He completed his medical course in 1886 and early in Janu¬ ary of the following year he accepted the appointment as Doctor to the North Sea Fishermen under the “Mission to the Deep-Sea Fishermen.” For five years he ministered to the needs of those who braved the perils of the sea to gather food for England’s toilers. The words, “Heal the sick,” w-ere carved on the star¬ board bow, and “Preach the Word,” on the port, of his little ship. The Mission Board asked him in the fall of 1891, to go to the coast of Newfoundland and Labrador to canvass the needs of the fishermen in that region. The Albert was secured for the voyage and was sheathed with greenheart, to withstand the % icefloes and fitted in a small way for hospital work. Embarking in June, 1892, he sailed northward. After encountering heavy fogs and menacing icebergs he touched at St. John’s Harbour, Newfoundland, and then in August, reached the 'coast of Lab¬ rador. Warm was the welcome accorded a doctor by a people sorely in need of medical service. First-hand contact with pitiful cases impressed Dr. Grenfell with the need of a hospital and brought him face to face with the call to what was to become his life work. On the return voyage he found the leaders at St. John’s Harbour enthusiastic about the work and ready to erect hospital buildings at Battle Harbour and Indian Harbour and to provide for their support. 4 The next spring he returned to Labrador with physicians and nurses to take charge of the new hospitals and with a small steam launch, the Princess May, for cruising along the coast. Her trial voyage was successfully made early in July, 1893. The Princess May was the precursor of a series of ministering ships. Sir Donald Smith (later Lord Strathcona) of AYinnipeg presented him with a stout steamer called the Sir Donald. This in turn in 1899 he replaced with the Strathcona, equipped with both engines and sails, and fitted with excellent hospital facilities. In 1899 it was decided to open a winter hospital at St. Anthony, thus making it the permanent headquarters. Shortly after the opening of the new station, a chain of co-operative stores was established in the effort to free the people of Lab¬ rador from bondage to the traders. This Avas the first of a series of social experiments for the relief of an impoverished people. A lumber mill was opened in 1900, to be followed soon by the establishing of an experimental fox farm at St. Anthony. A herd of reindeer was next secured from Lapland and the experi¬ ment has shown that they can be successfully reared in Labrador. The underlying motive that has inspired both the medical and philanthropic service has been stated as follows by Dr. Grenfell: “When you set out to commend your gospel to men who don’t want it, there is only one way to go about it—do something for them they’ll understand.” In the course of the thirty-two years (1925) of his unselfish service, Dr. Grenfell has risked his life again and again in the path of duty. One of the most serious experiences occurred on April 21, 1908, when he was carried out to sea on an ice-pan. He was obliged to sacrifice three of his faithful dogs to with¬ stand the cold and as it was, his feet (and hands) were so badly frost-bitten that his rescuers were obliged to carry him to the hospital. The next fall Dr. Grenfell went to England to give a series of lectures in behalf of his mission. From there he took passage on the Mauretania to the United States in order to fulfill further lecture appointments. On ship-board he met and proposed to Anna E. C. MacClanahan and later pressed his suit in a visit at her home at Lake Forest, Ill. They were married in Chicago on November 18, 1909, and reached their home at St. Anthony the following January. Three children, two sons and a daughter, have gladdened the home of ministry in the northland. The magnificent work of the “Knight-Errant of the North” is growing year by year. ]t has linked English speaking people of all lands in warm sympathy as they have joined in its support and extension. 5 INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF DR. WILFRED T. GRENFELL Reprinted from “Wilfred Grenfell, the Master Mariner” by Basil Mathews By permission of the publishers, Georye H. Doran Co. Grenfell Decides to Become a Doctor. ( P. 30-32.) Back again next spring in England Wilfred was suddenly faced when eighteen years old by an enigma put to him by his father. The question that his father asked was, “What do you want to do with your life ?’ ’ Wilfred was nonplussed. He had been well content with his gun and boat, the stalking of sea-birds, the heave of the tide through the night-watch on the fishing smack under the stars, the racing gallop along the sands; content with school and its stir and clash in playing field and class room, with the strenuous tussle of the football match, and “ ... the cool silver shock Of a plunge in the pool’s living water. ’ ’ All these had filled life to the brim with things to do. He could walk alone all day, gun in hand, by the marshes and over the shore, forgetting meals and never desiring even the company of friends in the sheer joy of living in the open air and in sight of the sea. If any dim idea of the future had thrust itself upon him, his mind had swung to the sporting trophies from India; and he had the feeling that to have the life and adventure of a hunter would be good. Wilfred’s father suggested that it would be a good thing to go and talk with their great friend, the family physician—a doctor with an enormous practice who drove what seemed to the boys to be innumerable horses over great tracts of the country to visit his many patients. They talked together, and among other things the doctor took down a big glass bottle in which was a human brain preserved in spirit. Something new broke in the boy at that moment. The feeling that the body of man was a wonderful mechanism, that in some mysterious way it 6 < ( had “life” and that all that it did was controlled by that curious convoluted grey mass, the brain, stirred him deeply. It attracted me,” he said afterwards, “as did the camera, the gramophone, the automobile.” Wilfred Grenfell decided to train to be a doctor. Taking Slum-boys Camping. ( P. 38-40.) The next year they took a cruise through the Menai Straits and down the Irish Channel past the Welsh Coast to Milford Haven, sailing over heavy tides and dangerous rocks. Fishing and shooting for their meals, bathing and rowing, climbing Snowdon from Pwllheli Harbour, and taking the risks of the open sea made magnificent holidays. It flashed on Grenfell, how¬ ever, that it was selfish to take these gorgeous holidays and leave his boys sweltering in the East End; so the next summer he started with three tents and thirteen boys out to the Anglesey coast, where in a ravine opening on the sea the boys—in short knickers and grey flannel shirts—lived the life of kings. These were days before Boy Sconts or Brigades and, indeed, many of the things that are the best notes of these great move¬ ments were started by Grenfell’s troop. No boy was allowed any breakfast until he had bathed in the sea, and sea bathing is a strange and novel custom to Bethnal Green boys. No boy was allowed in the boats till he could swim—so they learned very swiftly. At night they slept on long bags stuffed with hay. In the day time they used to put out to sea in an old lifeboat hired from the National Lifeboat Society, and drifted east on the flood tide and back west on the ebb, fishing for their supper. The great peak of the boys’ holiday was their attack on Mount Snowdon. Half the group tramped across the Island to the Menai Straits and over the suspension bridge, to the great house of a friend of Grenfell near the Welsh coast, and slept in the stables; and the other boys went by boat round the island and anchored off the coast, the two sets joining to climb the highest mountain in Wales. One year on the Snowdon outing, the boat division got stranded en route and turned up a day late, when the host (in the stables of whose mansion the party slept) gave them an extra good time to make up for their chilly night on the sands. One boy, talking to Wilfred Grenfell on the next day, said: “My! Doctor, I did have some fun kidding that waiter in the white choker. He took a liking to me, so I let him pal up. I told him my name was Lord Shaftesbury when I was at home, but I asked him not to let it out, and the old bloke promised he wouldn’t.” 7 ‘ ‘ The waiter, ’’ as you will rightly have guessed, was the host himself in ordinary evening dress, which these East End boys had never seen save on a waiter. This camp grew year by year till there were over a hundred boys in it, and they moved from Anglesey to the south coast of England, where they slept and played in the grounds of Lulworth Castle by permission of its owners. Caring for the North Sea Fishermen. (P. 40-42, 44- 45.) In 1886 Wilfred Grenfell passed the last of his examina¬ tions, was made a member of the College of P.hysicians and of the Royal College of Surgeons of England. It was at this time that Sir Frederick Treves had a talk with Wilfred Grenfell about the wonderful fleets of deep sea fishermen who, in the narrow seas round the British Isles, unseen by most of us, live lives of adventure to feed the people who rarely think of the sailor-fishermen as they eat the fish caught for them by “ those in peril on the seas.” Sir Frederick loved the sea and the fishermen. Every Box¬ ing Day he used to sail a lugger himself across to Calais, and he would go cruising about among the fishing fleets to share the adventure of the life and to enjoy the talks with the bronzed, sturdy men. ‘‘They want a doctor out among those fishermen,” said Sir Frederick, knowing Wilfred Grenfell’s love of the sea and of adventure. “Somebody who can give them medicine and deal with their wounds, and teach the skippers ambulance work, and give them a word about their souls, too, to help them along.” Wilfred Grenfell leapt at the chance of being a sea-doctor to fishermen such as he had known since he was born. He, therefore, arranged to go out the following January. One day in the New Year he caught the Yarmouth train at Liverpool Street Station. It was a stormy night when his train ran into Yarmouth Station. He found on the platform a thick-set oil¬ skin-covered fisherman who drove with Grenfell to the harbour. Standing on the edge of the harbour looking into the noisy darkness where the gale howled through the rigging and the water lapped the hulls of the boats swinging on the tide, Gren¬ fell said: “Where is the ship?” looking out for the masts of some good-sized clipper against the grey sky. “Those are her topmasts,” the fisherman replied, pointing below to sticks. 8 Grenfell looked down and dimly saw a small craft. This was a shock, but in a minute or two he had gone over the edge and was sliding down the rigging, which had, he discovered too late, just been carefully greased and covered with tar. The next day he was out in the shrill, biting January winds on the North Sea. It astounded Grenfell to discover that, taking all the fleets that they had visited into account, fully twenty thousand men and boys were out on the North Sea—a sturdy, courageous, cheerful body of fellows of infinite resource and unconscious daring. To Grenfell they brought back the brave spirit of Drake and Raleigh, and his own ancester, Sir Richard Grenville, who had run the little Revenge into the jaws of death. They knew every inch of those seas with such astonishing thoroughness that they actually determined their latitude and longitude, not by chronometer or sextant so much as by the depth of the water and the kind of sand or slime that came up with the lead, which was always heavily greased for that purpose. They could easily get such soundings, for the North Sea is shallow. Indeed, it once was land, and a great river ran down the centre and out through the English Channel; a river one of whose tributaries was the Rhine and others, the Thames and the Humber. Because the North Sea is shallow, it is also very rough, and its seas are easily whipped into a great rage by a gale. So Wilfred Grenfell’s life was no easy sunny trip. Sails /or Labrador. (P. 50-51 } 52-53.) Suddenly on that visit to London the wider oceans opened to Wilfred Grenfell’s eyes. For word had come from the still wilder waters of the North-West Atlantic, where the fishermen brave icebergs, floes and fogs off the Canadian coasts of Lab¬ rador, asking this question: Would Grenfell be ready to sail across the Atlantic in a little vessel to measure up the need of the men for such services as he could give them as a Christian doctor? His adventurous spirit leapt towards the prospect, and within a few weeks he was planning the re-shaping of a ketch- rigged boat like a yawl, and was all agog for the new adven¬ ture. They made her timbers stouter to take the grinding and the grip of the ice by a sheathing of greenheart at water level round her bows. They also altered her sailing-gear to fit, her to cope with the high seas of Atlantic storms. Not only so—they made a small floating hospital of her by fitting her with nursing bunks, operating table, and dispensary, and replacing the old 9 wooden hatches with new iron ones large enougli to admit of carrying patients below from the deck. It was within a week of Midsummer Day when the tug-boat took the Albert out and cast her off amid the cheers of friends. So she stood into the ocean under her own sail. Wilfred Gren¬ fell had started on the new great trail that was to be his for long years to come. They were bound westward for the fishing fleets of the North Atlantic off the coasts of Newfoundland and Canada. The Albert was of the same tonnage as was the Matthew in which nearly four centuries earlier the dauntless Cabot had set out on the same trail and had at last discovered the country that they called—naturally—Newfoundland. - Welcomed to Labrador. (P. 58-61.) So with a Government pilot on board Grenfell started out- on another four hundred miles of sailing, keeping well out into the ocean. Within the first week of August, Grenfell was thrilled with the sight of the Labrador coast which has been the scene since then of most of his life work and innumerable adventures. The scene itself was amazingly thrilling. In an ocean of brilliant blue, dazzling icebergs, shaped like castles and spires, rocked and clashed, the sun blazing on them and the ice throw¬ ing off flashing radiance. Whales in abundance rolled and splashed, slapping the sea into foam with their enormous tails, hurling themselves clean out of the water into the sunlight and then plunging back into the depths. Dense shoals of smaller fish broke the surface of the water with silver, and gulls and other sea birds screamed and flew overhead, dashing down every now and then to seize a fish and take it off to their nests, which hung in scores of thousands along the ledges of the red cliffs. Beyond the cliffs rose hills covered by woods and behind them the land lifted itself to the peaks. The land was white at its summit, where the snow lay, and white at its foundations, where the league-long rollers of the Atlantic broke in tremendous spray, crashing into the caves and against the enormous buff faces of rock. Labrador is a wonderful peninsula of the American continent which Cabot discovered in the same year that he sighted New¬ foundland. Lying there between Newfoundland and Canada, it juts into the Atlantic from America just as Alaska—which balances it on the other side of the Continent—juts out into the Pacific Ocean. The value of Labrador—its forests, its fisheries, and its minerals—has never yet been fully understood. Cabot 10 did not give Labrador its name. That came from the ingenious explorer, Corte Real, who in 1501—four years after Cabot— called it Terra Labrador (which means “cultivable land”) to distinguish it from Terra Verde (or Greenland) with which name he had christened its great northern neighbour. Labrador became British on the conquest of Canada in 1759; it was in¬ cluded in the colony of Newfoundland in 1876. Bitterly cold in winter, Labrador has a short and lovely time when the snow and sea-ice melt—the time from the middle of June till early in October. It was at this time—when the fishing is in full swing—that Wilfred Grenfell first arrived. It shows how dif¬ ferent the life of Labrador is in winter and summer to recall that only four thousand people live on the Labrador all the year round (liveyeres, they are called, of whom about seventeen hundred are Eskimo), while in summer there are about twenty- five thousand people on her coasts. The Newfoundland pilot on the bridge with Dr. Grenfell pointed with his hand to a wide opening. “There’s Domino Run,” he said. So they ran in through a deep channel between the islands and the cliffs—a channel where all the schooners sail on their way to the fisheries—with a fine and beautiful harbour opened to them. There at anchor lay schooners of the fishing fleet. As the Albert ran in .all eyes were turned upon her; then she ran up the blue flag with M.D.S.F. upon it (the Mission to Deep- Sea Fishermen). Immediately all the ships in the harbour ran up their flags to greet her, and the harbour was a-flutter with warm-hearted welcome. As her anchor chains ran out, boats started pulling toward her, and skippers came stumping aboard to find out all about her. Their brown, bearded faces beamed with joy and gratitude when they knew that at last, for the first time in all their ex¬ perience, a doctor in a hospital ship was to live among them, sailing where they sailed. So the skippers went back to their schooners full of content. Grenfell’s Call to His Life Work. ( P . 01-63.) Alongside the Albert lay a battered, unseaworthy boat. In it a half-starved, ragged man sat, the eyes gleaming under his shaggy brows never leaving the Albert. At last he called out: “Be you a real doctor?” Grenfell assured him that he hoped he was. “Us hasn’t got no money, but there’s a sick man ashore, if so you’d come and see him.” 11 So Grenfell went into the crazy, buffeted boat and was pulled ashore by the bearded brown fisher. He then led the doctor up to a miserable turf-roofed hut with one small window made of bits of glass, a floor of beach pebbles, walls of dark earth, with rough bunks round the walls. There was not any furniture at all—no chair or table or cup¬ board—nothing but a little iron stove. Six bewildered and terrified children shivered in a corner of the room. The sound of a racking, tearing coughing drew Grenfell’s eyes to the dark shadow of the lowest bunk. There lay a fever- smitten man dying of pneumonia. What could be done? He never could be cured in that sty; nor could his wife nurse him properly and at the same time fend for the six children. Their only income was from fishing—and the fish were even going by. His soul and bare chance of life would be in a hospital. But there was no hospital on all those coasts. Dr. Grenfell did what he could to ease the man and comfort the wife; and then sailed north on his exploring voyage. Nine hundred patients were named in the doctor’s log-book on that first trip. He could not shake off the memory of their faces. There was the boy whose lower jaw had grown dead bone until his whole face was lopsided, just because there had never been any doctor or dentist within hundreds of miles. He was haunted by the memory of the man whose hands and fore¬ arms had been blown off by an exploding gun and who had died because there was no doctor or hospital within reach. Nor could he forget the father of the family who for years had been kept from doing his full work as breadwinner by the agony of an ingrowing nail on his foot—which a few minutes of the doctor’s skill put right for always. These and hundreds of other cases had thrown grappling hooks upon the doctor’s imagi¬ nation on that first wonder-voyage into the north. Securing Buildings and Helpers. ( P. 66-60.) Other schemes, however, had run on ahead of the Albert. When, in November, Grenfell’s yawl slipped in between the heads and ran up her blue flag in St. John’s Harbour, therefore, he found that the story of the good work done by the Albert and her doctor had already reached the people. His Excellency, the Governor of the Colony, called a meeting at Government House, and the meeting was enthusiastic in favour of the work Dr. Grenfell had begun in his ship under the Mission to Deep- Sea Fishermen, and promising the “co-operation of all the classes of this community.” Then one of the greatest merchants in the 12 Colony rose to speak, and the meeting was startled (with which Dr. Grenfell was delighted) to hear him say that he would present a building at Battle Harbour (near the Straits of Belle Isle that run between Newfoundland and Labrador). Here was, indeed, a splendid start. A building presented: the whole Colony of Newfoundland pledged to back up the work with its support. As Captain Trevize strode the deck of the Albert with Dr. Grenfell, when they put out from St. John’s Harbour that November for England, they were indeed proud and happy men. So were the committee men of the Deep-Sea Fishermen’s Mis¬ sion. The Doctor and the Captain went among the people in Britain speaking at meetings and raising help for new supplies and equipment for the hospital. Then the news came through from Newfoundland that an¬ other firm of merchants—the shippers, Job Brothers, with a fisheries station at Indian Harbour, north of Hamilton Inlet, up the Labrador Coast (two hundred miles north of the other new hospital at Battle Harbour) had presented a second hospital. As these two centres were regular anchoring places for the fishing fleets as they went up and down the coast, they seemed ideal spots for the little hospitals. Three things were needed: the equipment, more medical help, and a small steamboat in which to run up and down to dhe settlements on the harbours that run every few miles into that scoured and storm-torn coast. One day when Dr. Grenfell was at his old home at Parkgate, he found on the River Dee up at Chester a tough little steam- launch that was for sale—forty-five feet long. He thought that it would be suitable. One can believe that he was almost too swift in his judgment that time. For she was only eight feet in beam. In any case, the boat was bought and given to the mission by a friend and re-christened the Princess May. The new helpers were found in Dr. Arthur Bobardt, Dr. Elliot Curwen, and two trained nurses, Miss Cecilia Williams and Miss Ada Cawardine; this gave a doctor and a nurse to each new hospital, with Dr. Grenfell free to travel. They all sailed out once more “Westward Ho,” on the Albert. An Eskimo's Gratitude. (P. 80-87.) “Some time later from a station further north, I had just got up steam to leave, when I heard cries signalling me to wait a minute. Soon a boat full came alongside, and a young Eskimo 13 about twenty-five years old stepped on board. He carried his right arm at an angle of 45° with his side, and said it had been thus out of joint a month. We got him below and could find nothing wrong with the bones, but at last a large and deep abscess was discovered. In ten minutes the arm could be easily worked—the lad had not even winced at the knife, and as he went away, not being able to speak a word of English, he tried to look it in his jet-black eyes like a dog does. The Moravian missionary with me said, 4 He wants to tell you he cannot give vou thanks, but he feels it invisible. ’ 7 % Responding to a Call for Help. (P. 134, 136-139.) We can follow him now on two of the manv scores of ad- ventures that have come to him in answer to such calls. Evening was just coming on in the New Year of 1919, and a young fisherman living thirty miles away from Grenfell’s hospital to the north, at Cape Norman, telegraphed to Dr. Grenfell. His wife, he said, was seriously ill. Could he come at once?— Not till dark that evening was it possible to start. Now a lull came in the tempest, which nearly always in Newfoundland means a quiet interval before a new and even more violent bliz¬ zard. In spite of that they set out. Down they plunged to the harbour, but no ice could be seen. The stupendous tonnage of new snow had thrust the ice down when the tide went out, and the new tide had rolled in ovei* it. The men were wading knee deep in slush and ice water. The teams of dogs could barely touch the ice through the tide. The Cape Norman team went ahead and the St. Anthony scratch team followed. Every yard had to be won in the teeth of the storm until they had crossed the harbour- to the other shore, but they were only out of the tide into great wallowing drifts of new snow. Inch by inch and foot by foot they fought their way along, climbing and climbing up the lee of the hill till they reached the crest, and then the tempest hurled itself on them like an enemy. If the lee side of the hill was a mass of blanketing drifts, the other side was a house roof of ice from which the gale had swept all snow. They slid down it in the darkness, bumping into boulders, tripping over stumps. So it was through mile after mile. Either they were out of the wind and in the snow drifts, or in the wind and on ice where the dogs could get no foot grip in the teeth of the gale. After six hours they had covered only ten miles and ahead of them lay twenty miles of sea-ice, across which the gale 14 screamed and raged, breaking it into fragments with the sound of thunder, and driving the tide over it. It was impossible for man or dog to go forward, but they could not go back. Yet to remain still was to be frozen into pillars of ice. Suddenly one of the men from Cape Norman recalled that a tilt had been put up near that spot only a few months before. He moved off to try to find it, and was soon heard shouting to the others, “Come!” To their tremendous relief they found not only the tilt, but also a stove in it with dry wood cut ready. A fire was lighted, the kettle filled from the river near by through a hole they cut in the ice, and Dr. Grenfell prepared to make tea. He heard something fall on the floor and saw that it was the Cape Norman man’s pipe. He stooped, picked it up and handed it to the man, but he did not take it. He was fast asleep, standing bolt upright, for he had been sixty hours with¬ out sleep, and for forty-eight of those hours fighting the gale. So they took food and rested till daylight, but with the dawn the storm raged still. The ice of the sea could not be passed with the crashing of the tide thundering upon it. Their only way w r as to go round a long curve of the shore. Hours and hours of travelling carried them at last to a small group of cottages. There they stopped to drink hot tea and get a little food, and at sunset the home of the young fisherman loomed ahead. No one can describe the young fisherman’s feeling in the hut where, watching his wife writhing in dreadful pain, he saw the door open and Dr. Grenfell come in. She was still alive. Instantly hy relieved her pain, and qnickly by surgery, and then by medicines, made her well, and to-day she, with her young husband, rejoices that Dr. Grenfell ever came to those shores. Carried to Sea on an Ice-pan. (P. 143-145, 143-140, 157.) He looked across the remaining four miles of ice between himself and the rocky headland that he must reach. The sea had broken the solid plain of ice into immovable ice-pans, which had started grinding and crunching each other in the heaving waters; but now the east wind had driven them tightly together and held them firm—jammed in a solid mass. So Grenfell threw himself face down on the sledge and the dogs straining at the traces started swiftly over the rough ice. Mile after mile they made; till at last barely five hundred yards lay between the komatik and its team and land. Suddenly, without warning, the east wind dropped to calm. This, in itself, was dangerous, for it was the force of the wind, 15 and that alone, which had held the ice together in one mass. The slabs began at once to ease and shift and work uneasily. Worse, however, than even this, Grenfell found by making dagger-strokes downward with the short bone handle of his whip that he was only held up now on a thin coating of ice made up of the grindings of the large slabs as they were hurled upon one another by the waves. His whip-handle went right through into the water beneath. This “sish” ice was now simply falling to bits, for the wind-pressure had disappeared. In a few minutes everything would be blobs and slabs of loose ice in a heaving sea. To go back was madness; to go forward seemed impossible. Death stared Grenfell in the face. Flinging off his oilskins and dropping on hands and knees by the sledge he yelled “Ooisht!” to his team to stir them to gallop for the land. The dogs leapt forward for twenty yards. Then they paused. In an instant the komatik sank down into the horrible, broken mass of pounded ice and water; and with it Grenfell. It was like a ghastly, freezing, clogging marsh; too watery to stand on; too thick to swim in, and as cold as ice itself. The dogs tried to start again; but the sinking komatik dragged them back and down through the ice into the water. Gripping his sheath-knife Grenfell slipped it out and slashed at the dogs’ traces to free them from the sledge; but he wound the leather trace of the leader round his own wrists. He then tied his hunting-knife on to the back of one of the dogs. The leader of the team, plunging through the pounded mass of splintered ice in the freezing water, got close to a great mass of packed and frozen snow and ice, and heaved himself up upon it. . . . It seemed, still, that now nothing lay between him and death. Slowly the pan slid seaward on the tide. When he looked to the bay entrance he saw the great breakers hurling enormous floes of ice in crashing fury against the iron cliffs. He knew that even if the snow-ice-islet on which lie sat held together through the night, he would be frozen to death by morning. What could be done? He looked at his dogs. They were his good friends, his faithful comrades. Yet there was no alter¬ native. He must get some warmth. There was nothing for it but this: to get the skin and hair of some of them! He dared not move much on the tottering floe; but, with his hunting knife, he killed, one by one, three of his dogs. Even 16 as lie did so lie wondered whether they were not happier than he by dying swiftly, and not by inches of frost, and slow starvation. He skinned them and wrapped their shaggy coats about himself. The night came on; and Grenfell was ten miles nearer to the sea; around him a cloak of fur of his three dogs. In his house to-day is a bronze tablet. On it are these words “To the Memory of Three Noble Dogs Moody Spy Watch Whose lives were given For mine on the ice. April 21st, 1908. Wilfred Grenfell. St. Anthony.” The Strathcona as a Hospital. (P. 158, 105-167.) When you go aboard the Strathcona (which was presented to the Mission in 1899 by Lord Strathcona), you come on a strange blend of smells. There is the fragrant, pungent odour of piles of branches and logs, of fir and juniper, spruce and birch, to feed into her hungry furnaces; for coal is a costly luxury on the Labrador coast. There is, at- times, also the rank stench of whale-meat for the powerful dogs who drag the komatik across the snow and ice to take the doctor and his stores to a lonely settlement where a patient awaits him. And if it is the right time of day and you stray along the afterdeck, fragrant smells come up from the cook’s galley. . . . The Strathcona, however, is not only a ship of passage to carry him to his battles with death; she is herself the scene of those fights. For she is a miniature hospital with a few bunks for patients (the Torquay cot, for instance, and others). The doctor’s operating theatre is the spot at the foot of the com¬ panion ladder under the hatchway, which is usually blocked as to light by the heads of other waiting patients who watch the operation with eager curiosity. The light that shines on the operating tables comes from a hanging paraffin lamp. When the Strathcona puts into a small harbour, instanta¬ neously boats put out and are all around her with people clamour¬ ing for healing. Some will be taken aboard and carried down 17 the coast to St. Anthony’s Hospital, or up to Battle Harbour Hospital. There will almost always be men with great swollen painful forearms. They have cut or rubbed themselves, so that the skin has broken and the offal of cod or some other fish that the man is cleaning infects the arm and poisons it. These swellings the fishermen call “ water-'whelps. ” When Dr. Gren¬ fell’s lance has let out the pus from the swollen arm, disin¬ fectant has been applied, and the arm is comfortable, there comes a light into the fisherman’s eye that is a signal that he would do anything in the world for this doctor who has come something like two thousand miles from his homeland to “heal the sick.” Economic Uplift Work. (P. 168-170.) From the dock of St. Anthony’s Harbour another little tramway runs with boxes of food-stuff from the ship to the Orphanage, where thirty-five children, who have neither father nor mother, live and grow sound and strong in body, mind and spirit; with rows of small beds in the light, bright dormitory and a happy chatter all over the place. Over the entrance to that house runs this inscription, “Suffer little children to come unto Me.” The little tram-line carries a load of wool from the dock in its small hand truck to the Industrial School where the boys and girls make strong attractive rugs on which are designs of cheer¬ ful polar bears and seals and furclad Eskimos. Other buildings, small and large, make up the harbour settlement. Here steam is seen surging out of a fine modern laundry; there the buzz of the lathe and the song of the saw draw our eyes to the machine and carpenter’s shop; yonder is the little school of the settlement; farther on, the co-operative store side by side with a trim little inn. The co-operative store has a very striking sign-board hang¬ ing. On one side is a ship with the name Spot Cash; she is in the midst of a tremendous tempest with w r aves threatening to engulf her, and mighty icebergs that look like crushing her. Beneath the ship is this inscription: “There’s no sinking tier.” If you walk round and look at the other side of the sign¬ board, you discover a team of powerful Labrador dogs—the famous fierce and powerful “huskies” dragging a sled laden 18 with boxes to the door of a settler. Underneath this picture are the words: “Spot cash is always the leader.’ 7 What, we may well ask, does this astonishing sign mean? It is really the sign of one of Dr. Grenfell’s fiercest battles. He found that some traders were making disgraceful profit out of the poor settlers by barter. They would bring tea or pork or clothing fabrics, and change them for skins of sometimes ten or even twenty times the value of the food that they bought. So Dr. Grenfell in face of a storm of criticism set up a system of co-operative store-keeping by which the settlers bought and sold (so to speak) to themselves. 19 I SERIES OF TWELVE PROGRAMS Course Number One ' (Now available) , ' ' '" JAMES CHALMERS, Martyr of New Guinea JAMES GILMOUR, Pioneer in Mongolia WILFRED T. GRENFELL, Knight-Errant of the North ADONIRAM JUDSON, Herald of the Cross in Burma ION KEITH-FALCONER, Defender of the Faith in Arabia DAVID LIVINGSTONE, Africa’s Pathfinder and Emancipator ALEXANDER M. MACKAY, Uganda’s White Man of Work HENRY MARTYN, Persia’s Man of God ROBERT MORRISON, Protestant Pioneer in China JOHN G. PATON, King of the Cannibals MARY SLESSOR, The White Queen of Calabar MARCUS WHITMAN, Hero of the Oregon Country Course Number Two (In preparation) CAPTAIN LUKE BICKEL, Master Mariner of the Inland Sea WILLIAM CAREY, Founder of Modern Missions ALEXANDER DUFF, India’s Educational Pioneer MARY PORTER GAMEWELL, Heroine of the Boxer Rebellion FRANK HIGGINS, Sky Pilot of the Lumbermen ROBERT LAWS, Founder of Livingstonia RAYMOND LULL, First Missionary to the Moslems JOHN K. MACKENZIE, The Beloved Physician of Tientsin JAMES COLERIDGE PATTESON, Martyr Bishop of the South Seas ALBERT L. SHELTON, Pioneer in Tibet J. HUDSON TAYLOR, Organizer of the China Inland Mission JOHN WILLIAMS, Shipbuilder in the South Seas No. 23o-M.E.-I-iM-June„ 1925 yyv:. . *-.y.yp.yy v . •. - • r%; >V;v-. V ■: - Jyo, v.:,- . ■ * :y , >•-. }M 3?J ^>’•3; - ■ y*- A y ; .1.!• -I '"I Z v (. • • x>. ■( ’. v,vr>. . "V. - ,• • yc-yj • :• • * *:<.*.- •• .Vv #• ^<3 J M 4 ' j lif #!# ! . 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