"Such are the charms to barren states assyn'd,
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd."
|Our first possession across the sea was Newfoundland, and I made the
voyage to it 400 years after John Cabot, the discoverer. The _Mathew_ of
Bristol first sighted Cape Bonavista, which was the first point seen by
the _Aurora_. Cabot was a Venetian sailing out of Bristol for a time,
and for his great discovery, which gave England her vast American
possessions, King Henry gave John ten pounds a year. Cabot is to-day
very well thought of, but nothing much is known of what became of him.
The name makes an attractive one for a Newfoundland dog. I have known
several of them bear it, and it is a sort of geographical education to
have them running around; but there is not any place of importance in
the world called after this great mariner.
The coast of the country is forbidding, being rocky and bleak, except
around some of the bays; the most beautiful of those seen by me being
Bay of Islands on the west coast, which reminds one of Norway. Here
and in the valley of the Humber, which runs into it, there is some very
fertile land, and there are some scenes of peace and prosperity. But the
general impression I have obtained after several visits to the country,
is that life is a struggle for many of the inhabitants compared with
what it is in any other colony which we possess. Newfoundlanders are
true to the land of their birth, but one familiar with North America at
large would never think of advising a colonist to push his fortune in
this particular part of it, because the opportunities are comparatively
few and the winters are too long for any working man to remain idle.
In the interior the soil is as a rule shallow; there are thousands and
thousands of acres of barrens, hundreds of lakes of different sizes and
numbers of streams. Great areas of the country are grown over with small
timber, the trees being so close together in places that one can hardly
push through them. Much of the barren country is moss-grown and boggy,
so that it cannot be travelled over by horses or mules; therefore, when
one leaves the rivers, it is necessary to carry everything on one's
back, and, as a result, travel in the interior is not much indulged
in by the inhabitants. To add to the pleasure, mosquitoes and their
cousins, the black flies, are in swarms. The whole interior is a
deer forest of the first magnitude, teeming with caribou (Rangi-fer
tarandus). These animals weigh about 300 pounds, and they are very gray
about the head and shoulders. I have seen them standing among trees
which were grown over with bearded moss, when it was difficult to tell
the caribou from the trees. Some of the heads are splendid with a
great deal of palmation and not at all like Greenland or polar American
caribou in which the palmation is generally poor and the beam long and
straggling, probably due to a difference of environment. Migrating to
the northern part of the island in summer, they return in September and
October to winter in the south, and the sportsman intercepting them on
their autumnal trip can have his choice of heads.
Another attraction is the salmon and trout fishing. The rivers,
especially on the west coast, are well stocked, white trout being
particularly numerous.
St. John's harbor is entered through the narrows. On the left, going
in, there is the lighthouse; and on the right, or north side, the signal
station. On this side is the city, lying at the foot of low hills, its
principal street, Water Street, being parallel with the shore. From it
run side streets down to the wharves and up the hill to the residences
and churches. The Dundee ships lay on the south side, our yard being
nearest the narrows. From it a path led out to the lighthouse point. A
hundred yards from the ship one was on the hillside and without the pale
of everything, because only a narrow fringe of buildings separated the
south shore from the wilds. Along the water edge, between our ship and
the lighthouse, one passed lots of fish flakes. These were constructed
of a framework of vertical and horizontal poles covered over with spruce
boughs upon which the split codfish were laid after being salted. The
air circulated under and around them well and they soon dried. I saw
codfish being dried on the beach in Shetland, but they were only spread
on the shingle. There are no trees in Shetland from which poles could be
made, but there is less precipitation there than in Newfoundland, so the
fish dry well upon the shingle. It is over 300 years since the
Newfoundland fisheries began to be worked. They proved the country's
first attraction and there is nothing of the sort in the world like
them. For the five years 1871 to '75 the export of dried cod was
1,333,009 quintals of 112 pounds. The Basques first appeared on the
scene and a port on the west coast to-day bears their name, Port aux
Basques. As early as 1527 an English shipmaster, on entering St. John's
harbor, found eleven ships from Norway, one from Breton and ten from
Portugal, all fishing.
In looking over the exports for 1881 one notices several interesting
items; one is, 4,127 tons of cod-liver oil, another item is 300 barrels
of cods' heads at $1.00 per barrel. I fancy, however, their use has
not become very general yet when we know that only 300 barrels were
exported, and that over sixty million cod were killed. When I speak of
the cod fishing, I mean the Labrador as well as the Banks fishery.
In fact, the former is probably the more fished of the two by the
Newfoundlanders.
The day after our arrival our ship began discharging cargo, that is to
say, taking off our whale-boats and launch, and taking out all
supplies for the whaling voyage. Then they began sheathing the deck and
bulwarks--even the floor of the cabin was covered with plank. Bunks were
erected for the men in the 'tween decks, all stores removed from the
quarter hatch and bunks put in there for the quartermasters, and the
crow's-nest was hoisted up and made fast to the main mast, a few feet
below the truck. The crow's-nest or barrel was a most comfortable place.
One entered through a trap door in the bottom, and when this was closed
there was no draught. Around the edge of the barrel and sticking out
some distance there was an iron rail upon which the glass could rest,
the latter being kept in a canvas bag or pocket inside. From there the
ship was navigated, a wire going to the engine room and ringing the
bell, but orders to the man at the wheel were called down. While these
changes were taking place, in company with the surgeon of the _Arctic_,
I wandered all over St. John's and the neighborhood, and enjoyed the
hospitality of many residents. It was some distance around the end
of the harbor to the city, but we could skate across if we liked. The
weather was intensely cold and the land was covered with deep snow.
The _Aurora_ having been converted into a sealer, and having taken on
board her supplies and exchanged her beautiful whale-boats for a number
of very crude looking punts, moved over to the north side of the harbor,
and waited for sailing day to take her crew on board.
[Illustration: 0065]
It may not be out of place to make a few remarks here about seals and
sealing generally. Most people know that seal fisheries exist, but
few have any idea of their extent. The ice-fields of Newfoundland
and Labrador produce more than anywhere else; but Greenland, Northern
Europe, the seas around Jan Mayen, Nova Zembla and Spitzbergen produce
also a great harvest, and the fur-bearing seals of the Aleutian Islands
must not be forgotten. Sealing on the east coast of Greenland is
entirely in the hands of natives, but the industry in other places is
chiefly prosecuted by Europeans and Americans. Lindeman tells us that
in 1720 the ports of the Weser sent out ships, that in 1760 Hamburg sent
nineteen which took 44,722 seals, that in 1862 five German ships took
17,000, five Danish 5,000, fifteen Norwegian 63,000 and twenty-two
British 51,000; so this gives one an idea of the extent to which Great
Britain was represented. In 1876 the Dundee ships alone took 53,000,
valued at over £34,000. It was the custom for the British sealers to
arrive in Bressa Sound, Shetland, about the end of February, and there
pick up a considerable part of their crews, getting to the ice about the
middle of March. The young seals were in good condition about this time
and had not yet taken to the water, so afforded an easy prey to their
foes. Around Newfoundland, sealing has gone on with great profit to all
engaged for probably one hundred and fifty years, and a glance at the
following table will give some idea of its extent:
In 1805 81,088 were taken
1818 145,072
1822 306,982
1831 686,836
1840 631,385
1850 598,860
1860 444,202
1872 278,372
1881 447,903
Roughly, about 350,000 every year, the greatest catch being 685,530 in
1844.
Harvey tells us that in 1857 there were nearly four hundred vessels of
80 to 200 tons burthen engaged in the industry, employing altogether
13,600 men, and that the year's catch was worth $1,700,000. Now, about
eight to ten thousand men are engaged, and the seal fishing yields about
one-eighth part of the entire exports of the country.
Steam was first used in 1863 and then the sailing ships began to
decrease in number. In 1884 more than thirty steamers were used, while
the sailing ships had become scarce.
With the advent of steam, the Dundee owners began casting covetous eyes
at Newfoundland. The western ocean passage could be made early in
the year, and the sealing taken in en route to the whaling. It became
necessary to arrange with agents at St. John's, or to build yards where
the cargo of seals could be taken care of, leaving the vessel free to
proceed north. At this time six ships represented Dundee.
_Arctic_, Captain Guy
_Narwhal_, Captain Phillips
_Aurora_, Captain Jas. Fairweather
_Polynia_, Captain Walker
_Esquimaux_, Captain Milne
_Thetis_, Captain Alex. Fairweather
The _Resolute_, Captain Jackman, could hardly be called a Dundee ship,
and it so happened that the Thetis went on other business this year; but
the above were the usual six.
The seals forming our cargo from the Newfoundland ice were harps (Phoca
Greenlandica), so called on account of a peculiar mark on each side of
the adult, extending from near the shoulder to near the tail, and hoods
(Cystophora Cristata), so called on account of a large inflatable sac
on the nose of the male. On our trip to Labrador we secured quite a
number of hoods, but on our first trip our cargo was practically one
of harps. Both these species are migratory, coming south in winter and
working north in summer as the ice recedes. As the banks of Newfoundland
swarm with fish, they form a pleasant winter resort for the seals, and
are very convenient to the floes on which they spend February and March.
Harbor seals (Phoca vetulini) and square flippers (Phoca barbatus) are
also found on the coast.
The breeding ice of the seal is the goal of every master in the trade,
but there are no rules for finding it. One may consider the influence of
currents and winds, and may navigate accordingly only to find the seals
are not found where expected. In our own case, the Captain told me the
day we left St. John's that he had no definite idea of where to go.
Nevertheless we awoke one morning to find ourselves surrounded by
hundreds of thousands.
[Illustration: 0073]
Young seals are born on the Newfoundland ice February 15th to 25th, and
are in perfect condition for the market by March 20th, as they have been
well fed by their mothers until then. They are a yellowish white when
born and remain so until they begin to take to the water, when the
longish white hair is rapidly shed and the young one quickly loses its
condition.
Owing to the exciting nature of the work, a trip to the ice is the
desire of nearly every Newfoundland boy. The great danger is fog coming
down while the men are sealing far from the ship, and next comes the
danger of losing the ship and drifting about on the floes until possibly
death takes place from cold and starvation.
In 1872 one hundred men perished, fifty going down with the _Huntsman_
on the coast of Labrador. The _Bloodhound_ and _Retriever_ were lost
the same year, their crews escaping to Battle Harbor after terrible
hardships.
Scoresby tells us of the classical disaster which occurred in 1774 about
sixty miles east of Jan Mayen. The sealing fleet, consisting of over
fifty vessels, met at the ice edge on March the 29th.
The whole fleet entered the ice streams and their boats went off
sealing. A storm suddenly arose, destroying five of the ships and
injuring many more, while most of the sealers who were far from their
ships were never seen again, almost six hundred men being lost. One
could not talk to a sealer long without learning of some horrible
accident which had occurred to himself or a friend, and while some of
them were given to romance, there could be no question about the perils
they encountered or about their bravery and endurance.
Toward the end of February, the sweilers, as they are called, began to
arrive in St. John's looking for berths. As the steamers afforded better
opportunities, the able men got them, while the older ones took to the
sailing craft, where life was not so strenuous. These men were dressed
very much alike and were most athletic; some of them were perfectly
wonderful in the way they jumped from pan to pan, barely touching some
of the smaller ones in passage. The owners did not overfeed the men on
these trips, providing them with sea biscuits and pinnacle tea chiefly,
pork and duff being served only three days a week and salt fish on
Fridays. The water from which the tea was brewed was obtained by thawing
pinnacles of ice. When ice floes came together they rafted one on to
the other and shattered fragments stuck up in all directions. Snow piled
upon these and was frozen. When water was wanted, a body of men with
axes went on the ice and broke off the pinnacles, which were taken on
board and stacked on deck. As water was required these were put into
a tank and steam turned on. Tea was made with this water, and molasses
added in place of cream and sugar. Our water for the cabin use was not
obtained from this source.
On steamers the crew received one-third of the catch, on sailing ships
one-half. This was made to the Newfoundland men only on the Dundee
ships, the Dundee crew getting paid so much a month, as well as a
fraction of the catch. When a ship was amongst the white coats, as the
young seals were called, the crew lived well, as they ate the livers,
hearts and flippers of the seals. The men carried a supply of livers
and hearts in their belts and ate them frozen or cooked as opportunity
afforded. It is easy to see how little cooking can be done for a crew of
three hundred men on a small ship. I have often seen a man tie a cord
to a liver and drop it into a pot of tea sitting on the galley stove,
drawing it out when warmed up or when the owner of the pot came for his
tea.
Sailing ships were allowed to leave port on March 1st, but steamers
could not clear for the sealing until March 10th, and the laws were very
strictly enforced. It was not unusual for a ship to have her pans of
seals pilfered by another ship during a fog, and this often led to legal
complications. I have frequently seen our men cut private marks on the
fatty sides of the sculps so that they might be identified afterwards.
Of course, any ship would pick up a pan which had lost its flag.
Sometimes the sweilers had great luck, being gone only a week or two and
coming back with their pockets full. A sculp was worth $2.00 to $3.00,
and as the men received one-third of all taken, it amounted to a good
deal for them, and as it came oft at a season when there was nothing
else being done, it added greatly to its value.
Ships engaging in this work had to have their hold hulkheaded off so
that, should they encounter bad weather, the cargo would not shift. As
the _Aurora_ was tanked, that was all that was necessary. If the ship
were long in reaching port after taking her seals on hoard, the fat
might break down and the oil flood everything, unless the ship had
tanks. In our case the sculps were on board such a short time that they
were as fresh looking when landed as when taken. The fat was separated
from the skin on shore by a man with a long knife. He drew a sculp over
a board and caught the edge of it with his left hand; using the knife
with his right, in a few sweeps he removed all the blubber. This was
thrown into a sausage machine and afterwards steamed in tanks to extract
the oil, which was refined by exposure to the sun's rays. The oil was
used for machinery and in lighthouses, and the skins were made into
harness, boots, etc., farmers using the refuse for fertilizing purposes.
When one saw this small army of fine looking, hard working and very poor
men, he could not help being sorry that their forefathers in emigrating
had not gone a little further and settled in Canada or the United
States, instead of on this inhospitable land. Think of how comparatively
easy their lives would have been, and what a return they would have
reaped for their work. Newfoundland meant to every one of them a life
of toil with not much more hope than the mother country could have given
them. Poor soil and a relentless winter mean this as a rule in a country
the mineral resources of which have not been developed.