The story of Jamieson’s Monument

A number of Qallunaat, or white, whalemen are buried at various locations on Cumberland Sound.

Many are at the whalers’ cemetery on Cemetery Island — Inukjuaq to the Inuit — near Blacklead Island, while another well-known cemetery is in the Kekerten Island group at the mouth of Kingnait Fiord, near Pangnirtung.

Many of the graves are unmarked. For others, the markings have weathered away. Presumably, most were mentioned in logbooks or journals, but most of those have not survived. Many of the departed are unknown.

Not so, however, with the very first Qallunaaq to die at Cumberland Sound.

While bowhead whaling flourished in Davis Strait in the first three decades of the 1800s, whalers could not find the entrance to Cumberland Sound, a rather large indentation on the east coast of Baffin Island.

British explorer John Davis had mapped it in 1585, but in the intervening years no captain had managed to find it again.

That changed in 1840 when William Penny, on the Bon Accord, sailed into the sound with the assistance of a young Inuk named Eenoolooapik, who had spent the winter with Penny in Scotland and drawn a chart of the area.

Eenoolooapik’s chart was well publicized in Scotland that winter, and so a number of other ships entered the sound with Penny.

Any British ship engaged in whaling and carrying more than 50 men was required to carry a surgeon. But the great majority of the surgeons were students, some even in the first year of their studies.

Proof of qualification was not required and the pay was lousy, usually three pounds per month. Moreover, the whaling surgeon had to provide his own case of instruments and bedding, as well as suitable clothing.

By comparison, a common sailor on such a ship received between two and three pounds per month, while a surgeon in the navy got 12 pounds.

The position of surgeon on a whaling ship was not one of respect, as would be the position of ship’s doctor today. Many captains treated them poorly.

The captain, having risen through the ranks “before the mast,” often took delight in “showing his superiority over the educated surgeon,” as reported in the Aberdeen Herald in 1856.

The surgeon’s duties were varied. In addition to tending to sick sailors and medical emergencies, the surgeon was often responsible for “serving out the grog, keeping account of the stores, cutting the skipper’s tobacco, and cleaning his bearskins,” sometimes even polishing the captain’s boots.

It was said that he had to “be the skipper’s shadow, sad when he is sad, merry when he is merry,” the article said.

Even when a surgeon was lucky enough to sign on with a kindly captain, it was still rough work.

Sometimes, the inexperienced surgeon was called upon to attend to frostbitten feet and sometimes even to perform amputations.

Included in the article is a quote from a doctor who was also a teacher at a medical school: “A young student mentioned to me a few days ago that he had been asked to go. I asked him if he knew anything about medicine or surgery. He said no; but showed me a little book, which he had been told to read on the voyage.”

Thomas Jamieson (or Jameson) was the surgeon of a whaling vessel, the Lady Jane, sailing under Capt. George Harrison from Newcastle, England. He was only 21 years of age and described as “a young man of considerable promise, of an amiable disposition.”

(His surname is not spelled consistently in the historical record, sometimes appearing as Jameson, other times as Jamieson. Both appear in this article.)

Jameson was from South Shields near Hull, England. His death was a tragic accident.

Three ships — the previously mentioned Lady Jane, Lord Gambier under Capt. Richard Wareham, and Grenville Bay under a Capt. Taylor — were near each other in calm seas, their captains perhaps having a gam, or chat.

The surgeons of each decided to have some sport on the ice. Travelling in a boat belonging to one of the ships, they reached the land-fast ice or perhaps a large ice pan, and engaged in some target practice.

Eventually they were summoned to return to their ships.

A British newspaper takes up the story: “One of the surgeons gave his gun to a man to be placed in the boat, taking the precaution to remove the cap.

“Unfortunately a boy belonging [to] Lord Gambier, who was in the boat, had a cap in his pocket and by way of amusing himself he placed the cap on the gun, and not knowing it to be loaded, pulled the trigger when the ball passed through the calf of Mr. Jameson’s leg.”

The accident happened on July 6. But it took Thomas Jameson at least 10 days to die. (Newspapers give two different dates for his death, one on July 16, another on July 18.) His place of death was not recorded.

Strangely, he was not buried immediately. His body was kept aboard the ship until Aug. 12.

As this was the first voyage by any of the captains into Cumberland Sound, these were trips of exploration as well as to catch some whales.

Finally, the captain of the Lady Jane determined a suitable spot to lay his young surgeon to rest. It was at the base of a “lofty peaked mountain.”

Another surgeon now takes up the story. His name is Alexander M’Donald, and he is sailing with William Penny on the Bon Accord, with young Eenoolooapik aboard.

M’Donald reports: “The half-hoisted ensign, and the boats leaving the ship with their colours lashed down, apprised us of the event, and I took a boat and accompanied the melancholy procession. The day was calm and exceedingly beautiful, and nature herself seemed pensive and sad.

“We landed on a point which looked as if formed for the resting-place of strangers from a milder clime. It was a smooth verdant platform, and at this time smiling with flowers … forming a pleasing contrast with the naked sterile rocks all around, and seeming to tell of a heavenly paradise of permanent rest and bliss, when the rugged paths and bleak storms of this life are all passed and over.

“A high rock rose abrupt and precipitous from the green and flowery spot — a grand and enduring monument to mark the grave of the unfortunate youth.

“It was a moment of deep feeling and interest for, although no father, or brother, or kindred were there to ‘lay his head upon the lap of earth,’ there were not wanting kind and affectionate hearts to sigh over his solitary resting-place, as we bid a silent farewell to the hallowed spot.

“His name will be perpetuated where his ashes rest, for the towering cliff, at whose base he was buried, was by common consent denominated ‘Jamieson’s Monument.’”

His shipmates planted an oak plank on the site, bearing the inscription “Thomas Jameson, Surgeon of the Lady Jane, native of South Shields, died 16th July, 1840. — George Harrison, Master.”

The oak plank has, of course, disappeared from a grave almost two centuries old. The name “Jamieson’s Monument,” or “Jamieson’s Grave,” appeared on the maps made by Penny, Wareham and the British Admiralty.

Inuit readers may recognize the description of Jameson’s burial place. It is Usualuk — the name means “the great penis” — on the northeastern shores of Cumberland Sound.

The location became a favourite of whalers, especially of Americans who, after some years had passed, followed the British to the sound.

By 1860, American whalers had erected buildings there and it became known as American Harbour. In 1931, the well-known American whaler, William Duval, was buried there.

Jameson’s name has not survived on the map of the sound.

Taissumani is an occasional column that recalls events of historical interest. Kenn Harper is a historian and writer who lived in the Arctic for more than 50 years. He is the author of “Minik: The New York Eskimo” and “Thou Shalt Do No Murder,” among other books. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.