Evening star., 1923-10-23
BY HAROLD NoICE,
Leader Wrange1 Island Rescue Expe-
dftiOn.

Sitting in Ada Blackjack'S dismal
little tent that August morning of my
landing on Wrangel Island, thousand
questions crowded into my mind.
I wanted to know in detail all of the
steps that had led to the tragic end of
Allan Crawford and his expedition. ]
wanted to re-live those months OF
isolation. I wanted to know how Lorne
Knight had died, and how this woman
Of the north, under five feet tall and
weighing less than a hundred pounds
had triumphed where four big men had
failed.
Ada assured me that the hunting
had been good. She told me what ]
had already suspected-that there had
been lots of game but the boys had been
unable to get it. But ] wanted some
specific verification, and asked if those
who had gone had left their diaries
behind. She told me that Knights
diary was in his tent, and that the
others had left some papers in the
trunks outside.
1 could put off no longer the moment
had been dreading. l lifted the flap
of the tent and went outside. Ade fol-
lowed, and we made our way through
the litter Of discarded belongings.
sight. Rusty trunks, tin boxes, boots
mittens, socks, knives and files were
scattered in disorder over the grounds
mixed with torn pieces of deerskin, now
soggy and smelling of mold from long
exposure to the rain.
Ada's Eyes Fiji.
Half way through the clutter, Ada
stopped. Her lips dropped and her eyes
filled with tears. / could see that she
did not want to go again into Knights
tent. and told her to go back and wait
for me.
At the door had to stop to remove 8
barricade of boxes which Ada had put
there to keep out marauding animals
On the threshold l paused. At the
right of the door, on a narrow canvas
cot, lay Knights body, his head pro-
truding from the deerSkin Sleeping-bag
just as it had been when Ada closed his
dead eyes two months before.
Prepared as 1 was, it was still i'm
possible to realize that this parchment
covered skull and inert skeleton could
have once belonged to that happy, care
less young giant who was the comrade
of my early exploring days.
Here as outside, all was confusion
disorder. The dirt floor was Uttered
with books and magazines. Tattered
volumes from the Harvard classics and
crumpled periodicals of ancient date
were jumbled together with unwashed
dishes and soiled clothing. 1t was a
place which must have been the abode
of despair long before death came
Across the room was a second canvas
cot. in which Ada had slept during al
those months when Knight lay, slowly
dying in his bag. There was a rusty
stove in one corner. The stovepipe
had toppled down, tearing a long rent
in the canvas. Beside Knights cot
found his diary, and sat down on ar
empty cartridge box to read it, my back
to the cot, for 1 wanted to shut out
the worst of that gruesome scene.
Made Three Mistakes.
For an hour 1 sat there, turning the
pages one by one. Each entry left me
less and less in doubt as to the. cause
of the tragedy. Knights diary con-
tirmed beyond question Ada's statement
The trouble had been with the boys
themselves. They had made three fun
damental mistakes.
No man who has the interests OF
science at heart can afford to obscure
the truth, even when it seems to bor-
ally when those dead have given their
lives for an ideal. If / spoke less
than truth, l would not worthily rep
resent them.
They were victims of the spirit of
adventure. But for their youth and in
experience, all of them might be alive
today. When human lives are to be
pitted against the untamed elements
the first essential is competent leader
ship. No one of the four who made
realization of the enormity of the
task. They made three basic mis-
takes, any one of which would have
minimized their chance of success
All three of them made tragedy in
evitable.
First, they left Nome with INSULT
cient food supplies. Second, they
failed to take with them Eskimo
hunters. Third, they went without
walrus hunting equipment. If there
had been one competent hunter among
them all of these drawbacks might have
been overcome. There was not.
1 left Knights tent with my mind
made up. / knew that / must pro-
ceed to carry out Stefansson's orders
and land the colony.
Feared Eskimo Superstition.
From my long years of living with
Eskimos 1 have learned to respect
their superstition. l knew that to
bring them into the camp before
knights burial was to court failure
from the start. I knew, also, that
any men who were to be asked to live
in this place should see it first under
more pleasant auspices than those
found.
went back to the ship for help
The, Eskimos were on the point OF
mutiny. The bright spirits evok &c
by the early sunrise had beer
dampened by the long day of fog.
1 told them they would feel better
when the sun came back, and hurried
off with Wells, Olsen. Williams an6
Earle to bury Knight and clean ur
the camp site.
We took carpentering tools ant
boards. Olsen and Earle stayed a.
the camp to build a coffin, which they
lined with white canvas. William:
made a white wooden cross. The
rest of US walked to the highest point
on the island and there we dug {
grave.
Hans Olsen was an old seal hunter
"a grizZled sailor. He had seer
many men die in the arctic and burieC
many. Yet even Hans was moved
when Williams and I lifted Knight:
emaciated body, scarcely the weigh
of child, and placed it in the white
lined coffin. Then. slowly, we carried
it up the hill to the open grave, Ada
following behind
There was little of ceremony
Knight was an agnostic and / fel
that all / could do was to pay my
| respects to the comrade>I I had known
We pushed our hoods back from ouI
heads and stood silent, each ma,
| deep in his own thoughts. secretl!