Looking out the window, Rusk rubbed his eyes
in amazement, the whole surrounding had acquired an eerie aspect. Nothing
could be seen except impenetrable whiteout. Gone were the huts, the church,
and the bay, obliterated by whirling snow. Father Perrault’s admonishing
words, treated with condescension, took on a more heedful aspect. Who indeed
would want to step into this raging hell? Not he, in any case. Why should he? Didn’t he sit
pretty within sturdy walls under a well anchored roof? The store was stocked
with provisions that would outlast any storm. As he still congratulated
himself, he heard the door rattle furiously, which made him mutter: “Gee whiz, that wind
does pack a punch.” It was not the wind,
however, but someone demanding to be let in. Reluctantly he pushed back the
bolt and peered outside where he found himself face to face with a muffled
man covered with snow, who moaned: “You must come,
Ruska.” Bewildered, not
knowing what to say or do, Rusk asked: “Who are you?” “Amuluk, you know
me.” “What do you want?” “Come with me;
little Agnorok, my son, is sick. You know him, Ruska, he is terribly sick.” Still dumbfounded,
Rusk was stirred to action by the menacing storm. After pulling Amuluk inside
with one hand, slamming the door shut with the other, he pushed back the bolt
again. It was high time, for snow started to accumulate in the room. The
biting cold went right through him, nipping at his very marrow. Still not
understanding what Amuluk wanted, he tried to find out: “Little Agnorok,
your son… ” “Is being devoured
by fever. His skin is aflame, you must come,” Amuluk wailed. “What for?” “He needs medicine,
good medicine to cool the heat in his body.” “I am not a doctor.” “But you have
medicine,” countered Amuluk. “Why don’t you go to
the Father?” “The Falla has left,
he will not be back soon. Agnorok is burning with fever, your medicine will
cool his brow.” Rusk was in a
quandary. Not going might jeopardize his career, moreover, harm the sterling
reputation of the Hudson Bay Company. Doing Amuluk’s bidding, however, might
be fraught with danger. But like all Hudson Bay factors, he was duty-bound to
tend the sick, administer basic medicine, plus call for help, if necessary.
For that reason all factors sent to the Arctic possessed first aid training.
Failing to help, foul weather or not, could be construed as negligence,
resulting in punitive measures. Remembering Father Perrault’s words, Rusk
said: “I will come with
you, but first I need a rope.” Looking puzzled for
a minute, Amuluk remarked: “I have one already
strung out between my house and the store, it will guide us there and back
without any problem. We need a short piece though, to hitch ourselves
together.” Rusk understood.
Nodding approval, he went behind the counter and got one. At the same time he
pocketed some antibiotics. After donning his heaviest clothes, and girding
themselves with the rope, they set out. Amuluk, gripping
the line fastened to a bracket near the door, led the way. Rusk followed a
few feet behind. As they stepped outside he had to suppress an impulse to
jump right back again. The fierce wind almost lifted him off his feet. Had he
not been tied to Amuluk, plus been in dread of his scathing mockery, Rusk
would have slipped back inside. It was slow going in that Egyptian darkness,
made denser by whirling masses of snow. Not a glimmer of light shone through
that raging inferno which could have served as a guide. Had anyone asked
Rusk right now for the location of Amuluk’s house, his store, or the church,
he most likely would have pointed in the wrong direction. Not a single
contour, not even a shadow was visible. Indeed, there were moments when even
the squat shape of Amuluk disappeared before his eyes. Three feet at most
they were separated from each other, yet at times not even the eyes of an
eagle could have penetrated that short distance. The roaring storm
took Rusk’s breath away. His face, if not averted, instantly bore a layer of
snow turning to ice. He could have endured the rigour of the weather, had it
not been for a rising premonition of a nameless impending disaster. Shouldn’t
they have arrived some time ago? Amuluk’s hut, not forty steps distance was
nowhere in sight. Neither had they passed, nor seen the few buildings in
between. Although he did not count the paces, they surely must exceed one
hundred. Something odd was going on. “Amuluk, Amuluk,” he
bellowed. There was no response. A
strange sensation gripped Rusk when he realised a disquieting fact. |
Pangnirtung |
Excerpt
from Twelve
O’Clock Sharp |