Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME T.
ISLAND THAT IS
DREADED ALIKE
BY THE SAILOR
AND KEEPER
Montreal, Quebec. — That
was a thrilling -story which
came from Halifax concern
ing the heroism of Mrs. Pe
ter Borque, widow of the
keeper of the lighthouse on Bird Rock
in the Magdalen islands in the Gulf of
St. Lawrence; but it is only one of
the many tales of death and disaster
that can be told of this barren and iso
lated bit of land.
After her husband had been wash
ed overboard and drowned during a
—Storm that threatened the demolition
of the lighthouse Mrs. Borque kept
the beacon burning^ for ten days, and
thus probably save'd several vessels
from piling up on the rocks. Both she
and her young baby suffered severely
from exposure and hunger and she
was so weak when rescued by the gov
ernment steamship Seal that it was
necessary to carry her on board. The
authorities say that the courage of this
woman is unsurpassed in the history
of the Canadian lighthouse service.
“For a time I thought I would go
mad,” said Mrs. Borque after her res
cue, "but I knew I had to do my duty.
My baby suffered terribly from the
cold, but I held it as tight as I could.
It was a terrible task to crawl with
her into the light chamber to keep the
lamps trimmed, filled and burning.
There was food, but you couldn’t cook,
and the baby cried constantly. Many
times I heard the whistles, but they
went away when they heard the bell
Tinging and saw the light.”
The Magdalens are a group of 13
or 14 islands that lie almost in the'
center of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
Their position makes them dangerous
to vessels and so many are the wrecks
thereabout that they have been styled
by sailormen the graveyard of the
.gulf.
Inaccessible Bird Rock.
Bird Rock is the most northerly Is
land of the group and is little more
than a huge rock rising abruptly out
•of the sea to a height of 140 feet, on
which the Canadian government main
tains one of the most Inaccessible
lighthouse stations of the Atlantic
coast. Thousands of gannets, murres,
klttlwakes and other sea fowl hover
over It'at all times, while beneath on
Its rocky ledges they have built myri
ads of nests in a series of tiers. The
sides of the rock are very precipitous,
and until a few years ago, when a
roadway was blasted out of the solid
rock leading to the top, all visitors
and supplies were taken ashore by a
cage lowered to the water and hoisted
up by means of a windlass. The
waves that generally break upon it are
so tremendous that it is only possible
to effect a landing In calm weather.
But It Is Vuch a wild and deso--
late spot that the man in charge of
the lighthouse must make it his
home during the entire year. Jean
Quette, the first keeper, remained one
summer with two assistants. Then the
solitude preyed so upon his mind that
he went insane. He recovered his rea
son only when he returned to civiliza
tion.
Keeper Perished With Son.
Pierre Wealen, the next keeper,
managed to hold out for nine years.
He came to a tragic end in 1880. In
the spring of that year he, his son
and an assistant ventured out on the
ice surrounding the Bird Rock during
a blinding snowstorm and lost their
way. The assistant succeeded in re
turning to the lighthouse In safety.
Wealen and his son perished.
Charles Chaisson, the third keeper
of the lighthouse, was killed on Aug
ust 13, 1881, by the premature dis
charge of a signal gun he was prepar
ing to fire. His son and an assistant
were badly injured in the same acci
dent.
Telesphore Turbide, the next keep
er, remained in charge of the light
house for over 16 years, but even he
did not escape the dangers of his call
ing. On June 24, 1891, he was putting
home a charge in a signal gun when
it exploded and blew off part of his
right hand.
Another tragedy of Bird Rock oc
curred in March, 1897. In the spring
of the year the hooded and harp
seals come down on the ice from Lab
rador and Anticosti, and hundreds of
men and boys from the Magdalens go
out to hunt them for their pelts and
oil. These seal hunts are attended
by many dangers. A storm is liable
to come up and drive the hunters
out to sea on the moving Ice. Snow
covered fissures may mean death in
case of a misstep. The danger of
drowning is ever present.
Fatal Seal Hunt.
In March, 1897, Damien Cormier, an
assistant keeper of the lighthouse,
started out on a seal hunt accompan
ied by Charles Turbide, a lad of 17,
and Arsene Turbide, cousin of the
NUMBER 13.
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IVRRIDe
QflH£
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latter. Cormier’s wife was' left in
charge of the lighthouse during his
absence. They had noticed a large
number of hair seals lying on the Ice
to the eastward, and proceeded in
that direction, dragging behind them a
small boat for use on the open glades
of water.
The hunters reached the seals and
made many killings. Finding night
approaching they stowed their spoils
in the boat and headed homeward. But
they had not noticed the threatening
look of the sky nor the Increasing
wind while engaged In the hunt, and a
furious snowstorm from the northwest
struck down upon them suddenly.
Bending their heads lower the men
plunged onward aimlessly. But there
was no use in attempting to force
their way through that endless drift.
So Cormier and his companions de
termined to fight the blizzard Just
where they were. They halted and
overturned the boat and made a sort
of shelter.
Two Die In Storm.
The storm raged more violently.
The cold became Intense. An icy
numbness seized the feet of Cormier ।
and his two companions. In agony
the men jumped up and down on the
ice, beating their arms across their
chests and pounding together their
frozen hands. At length Cormier tum
bled over in a heap. Charles Tur
bide fell unconscious at his side. Be
fore daybreak both were dead.
Then Arsene Turbide went out into
the snowy waste and looked about
him. The storm had abated by this
time. The snow had ceased to fall.
He could see clearly now and quickly
realized that it was impossible to re
turn by the route he had come, as the
north wind bad forced his ice floe far
out in the gulf.
In the hazy direction of his home a
rough sea tossed, piled up with rag
ged fragments of ice. No boat could
live in such waters. His only chance
for salvation lay in the hard, frozen
gulf toward the shore of Cape Bre
ton, even though that shore was 70
miles away.
Arseno buried the bodies of his com
rades underneath the upturned boat.
Grasping the bludgeon he had used in
the slaughter of seals, he turned his
face in the direction of Cape Breton
and started on his long journey.
i Made Brave Fight for Life.
All that cold day Arsene trudged
over the rough ice with neither food
nor drink. Sometimes he plunged
through deep drifts, sometimes he
glided more easily over windswept sur
faces. As the day wore on he was as
sailed by frequent spells of drowsi
ness. But he was determined to fight
and struggled to the end. When night
fell he dozed as best he could, but al
ways standing, for he knew that once
he stretched himself upon the Ice it
would mean his last sleep.
The next morning he crept up on
a seal and clubbed it to death, drank
the warm blood. He did not know
that his garments, his face and his
hands were smeared with blood, but
he did realize that he bad secured re
newed strength and courage to con
tinue his journey. Late that afternoon
he reached Meat Cove at Cape Breton,
and scarcely able to drag himself
along, staggered to the first house in
sight. Opening the door, he entered,
not knowing the appearance he pre
sented to the Inmates. They question-
Sir
IRWINTON, WILKINSON COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, APRIL 12, 1912.
ed him, but he could not speak. So
thinking him either insane or a mur
derer, they thrust him out and slam
med the door behind him.
Found Refuge Too Late.
Arsene struggled on again. When
the door was opened to him at the
next house, he rushed in headlong,
flung himself down before a fire and
at once fell into a sound slumber.
When he awoke he narrated his story,
and then word was telegraphed to
Grindstone Island, one of the Magda
len group, to send speedy relief to the
woman who had been left alone at the
lighthouse on Bird Rock.
Arsene did not recover from his ex
perience and within a fortnight died
from its effects.
Many stories might be told of the
other Magdalen islands. For many
years they have been inhabited by a
few thousand natives who are descend
ed from the Acadians who settled in
New France under the leadership of
Champlain and De Mont. Since the
first settlement In 1763 generations of
the same families have raised meager
crops in the valleys and fed sheep and
cattle on the high cone-shaped hills
which form a prominent feature of an
insular landscape. Year after year fa
thers and sons have gone out upon the
white capped waters of the gulf for
the cod, mackerel and lobster on
which their livelihood depends. An
cient language and customs prevail
among these people, and the spinning
wheel and hand loom still provide
homespun for both men and women.
Hard and Precarious Existence.
In seasons when the fishing is good
the average Magdalener makes suf
ficient money to supply his wants. In
noor years they sometimes suffer dire
distress. During the “Great Misery”
in the winter of 1882, and again in
1897. food became so scarce that the
Canadian government was obliged to
send supplies to the islands to prevent
a famine.
The inhabitants of the Magdalens
are completely isolated from the world
for six months in the year. In the sum
mer a small steamer subsidized by the
government plies semi-weekly between
the Islands and the mainland of Nova
Scotia. During the long winters this
service must be abandoned, and per
sons on the island remain there un
til the boat resumes its trips in the
spring.
The telegraph gives them the news
that is going on in the world during
their isolation, but of course there
can be no exchange of letters. Some
times this mode of communication
fails, as in 1910, when the cable to
the mainland broke and could not be
repaired for weeks. The natives in
this instance resorted to very ancient
methods. A heavy barrel containing
30 or 40 letters sealed in cans was
dropped overboard in the waters of
the gulf and trusted to fate. Ten days
afterward the tide carried it to the
mainland 60 miles away and the let
ters were sent to their addresses. Un
fortunately the southern drift of the
gulf prevented any answers from be
ing sent in reply.
British Consumption of Fish.
It is a question whether John Bull
is not more deserving of the name of
fish eater than he is of beef eater, for
during the past year fish valued at
$35,000,000 was landed on his shores
for food.
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