Vikings of to-day

In Short

This work serves as both a travelogue and a medical mission report from the early 1890s, detailing the establishment of hospitals along the isolated Labrador coast. It chronicles the daily struggle for survival among "Livyeres"—permanent settlers—and seasonal fishermen who face brutal winters, dangerous seas, and extreme poverty. By documenting the resilience of these communities and the efforts to bring modern medicine to the wilderness, the text offers a poignant, firsthand look at a way of life defined by endurance, deep religious faith, and constant proximity to the elements.

The Story

The narrative begins with a call to action: to provide professional surgical and medical aid to the forgotten populations of the North Atlantic, where the "splendid physique and heroic courage" of the British and colonial people were being tested by deprivation. The author, a surgeon and master mariner, sets out to bridge the vast gap between civilized medical care and the desperate needs of the Labrador coast. He describes a landscape dominated by glaciers, trap rocks, and a scarcity of vegetation so severe that even a blade of grass becomes a culinary prize.

The arc of the story follows the mission’s expansion, from the initial, precarious surveys of the coastline in a twenty-five-foot whaleboat named the Alfred to the later commissioning of the Princess May and the Sir Donald. Each chapter expands the mission’s reach, moving from Battle Harbour to the northern reaches of Okkak. The author introduces the reader to the daily rhythms of the "Livyeres," whose lives are dictated by the cod fishery, the hunting of eider ducks, and the erratic seasonal bounty of seal and squid.

As the mission progresses, the reality of the region’s dangers becomes central. The author describes the "catastrophic" nature of the environment—not only through the unpredictable ice and storms that claim ships and lives but also through the sheer physical toll of labor. He details the technical precision of fish-curing, the grueling work of seal-sculping, and the profound suffering of those living without access to basic hygiene or healthcare. The mission faces constant logistical hurdles, including shipwrecks, fog-bound navigation, and the near-loss of a hospital to fire.

The narrative also delves into the lives of the Inuit, for whom the author expresses deep respect. He recounts their struggles with frostbite, their communal generosity, and their quiet fortitude, noting the "Christian father" figure of an Inuit man named Daniel. The mission is not merely medical; it is a blend of surgery and spirituality, with prayer meetings often following an operation. The book concludes with personal testimonials from colleagues who served alongside the mission, reinforcing the necessity of their presence. The final pages are sobering, including a grim, firsthand account of a schooner sinking in the ice, which serves as a final reminder of the fragile existence these people maintain. The story ends on a note of cautious hope, emphasizing that while much has been done to alleviate suffering, the fundamental struggle against a harsh, unforgiving nature remains constant.

How It Unfolds

The call to the North The narrative establishes the necessity of bringing medical aid to the fishermen, positioning the project as a noble endeavor against the perceived decay of modern society. It introduces the harsh physical environment, where geology and climate set the stage for the human struggle.

The mission takes to the sea The author describes the transition from initial planning to active service in small, open vessels. The focus shifts to the practical challenges of navigating the labyrinthine coast, crossing the Atlantic swells, and making contact with the isolated fishing settlements.

Surgical encounters and community care The mission establishes its first permanent hospitals, where the author and his staff perform surgeries on frostbitten limbs and lacerated hands. These scenes highlight the extreme contrast between the primitive, often dangerous conditions of the fishing smacks and the comfort of the new, mission-run facilities.

Life among the Inuit The narrative moves north to interact with the Indigenous populations, exploring their traditions, their reliance on the environment, and their remarkable endurance. The author documents his interactions with the Moravian Brethren and the cultural adjustments required to provide medical treatment in such isolated outposts.

The enduring struggle The final chapters reflect on the long-term impact of the mission and the persistent dangers of the Labrador coast. The inclusion of a survivor's account of a shipwreck grounds the mission's work in the inescapable reality of the perils faced by those who harvest the sea.

The People

The author, Wilfred Grenfell, presents himself as a man of action and faith, driven by a surgeon’s pragmatism and a sailor’s grit. He views the Labradorians as "toilers of the deep" deserving of respect, and he acts as their advocate, constantly navigating the tensions between his mission’s resources and the overwhelming scale of human need.

Daniel, an Inuit man, serves as the spiritual heart of the mission’s northern contact. He acts as a bridge between cultures, demonstrating a "Christian father" influence that commands the author’s respect. His presence highlights the blending of traditional Inuit life and the teachings of the Moravian Brethren.

Dr. Albert Bobardt, a colleague, provides the logistical and medical support essential for the mission’s stability. His testimony underscores the transformation that basic nursing and surgical care brought to the fishermen, emphasizing that these men had often never known the comfort of a warm, clean bed before the mission’s intervention.

The "Livyeres" and the fishermen are the collective protagonists. They are characterized by their volatile combination of "generosity and vanity"—sharing everything when they have little, yet quickly succumbing to the hunger of their neighbors. Their resilience is often measured by their ability to recover from horrific injuries and shipwrecks, remaining, in the author's estimation, the most humane and courageous people he has encountered.

In Its Own Voice

"When a flock pass, all the guns are discharged simultaneously, and the ducks, which at times respond in showers, are nominally divided equally."

The author describes the chaotic, high-stakes hunt for eider ducks on the rocky point near the hospital.

"The comparison between them in hospital and in their own homes or smacks is too extreme to be drawn, and they were very grateful for what had been done for them."

Dr. Bobardt reflects on the profound difference that basic medical cleanliness and care made for the fishermen.

"It is nothing to what my Saviour bore in the Garden for me."

A dying Inuit patient displays remarkable fortitude when asked by the author if his pain is unbearable.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the human capacity for endurance when stripped of the comforts of civilization. It poses the question of whether a modern, industrial society has a moral obligation to reach into the most desolate corners of the world to preserve the dignity of those who sustain it. The author argues that the "heroic courage" found in the Labrador wilderness is a vital, vanishing trait that warrants protection. Underneath the clinical details of medical procedures lies a deeper inquiry into the intersection of faith and survival, questioning how a population can maintain a community spirit while constantly besieged by the "wolf of hunger" and the indifference of the North Atlantic.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of medicine, maritime life, or the rugged geography of the North will find this an essential, if period-bound, record. It is a rare, unvarnished look at a specific time and place, written by a man who was deeply embedded in the daily life of his subjects.

The reading experience is one of atmospheric immersion. You feel the cold of the Atlantic spray, the claustrophobia of the tiny fishing huts, and the sheer desperation that follows a shipwreck in the fog. It is a deeply earnest book, lacking irony, which reflects the Victorian-era belief in duty and the potential for moral and social uplift through personal sacrifice.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author’s period-typical attitudes. His paternalistic view of the Inuit and his simplified, sometimes romanticized, assessment of the "Livyere" character are products of his time. Additionally, the text is a practical report, not a literary novel; it can feel episodic, shifting rapidly between technical logs, medical anecdotes, and religious reflections. If you can move past the archaic framing, you are rewarded with a vivid, occasionally haunting portrait of a frontier that has largely disappeared from the modern imagination, leaving behind a legacy of survival that remains profoundly moving.