MOSQUITOES OF THE FAR NORTH.
While Cabot gazed eagerly at the lofty but still distant coast towards
which all their hopes were now directed, his companion was casting
anxious glances to the eastward, where a low hanging bank of cloud
betokened an advancing fog. He had good reason to be apprehensive, for
this northern entrance to the gulf of St. Lawrence forms the shortest
route for steamers plying between Canadian and European ports.
Consequently many of them use it during the brief summer season when it
is free from ice. At the same time it is a stormy stretch of water,
tormented by powerful currents, and generally shrouded in fog.
Early in the season countless icebergs, borne southward by the Arctic
current that hugs the Labrador coast, drift aimlessly over its troubled
surface, and even at midsummer it is a passage to be dreaded. White,
being familiar with its many dangers, had good cause for anxiety, as he
saw one of them about to enfold his little craft. He consulted the
compass, took his bearings with the utmost care, and then as Cabot,
finding his view obscured, turned to him with a look of inquiry,
remarked:
"Yes, we are in for it, and you'd better keep a sharp lookout for
steamers. It wouldn't be very pleasant to run one down and sink it,
you know."
"I should say not," responded Cabot as he started for the bow of the
schooner, where, steadying himself by a stay, he peered into the
thickening mist curtain. For half an hour or so he saw nothing, though
during that time the hoarse bellowing of a steam whistle, approaching
closely and then receding, told of a passing ship. While the lookout
was still listening to this a black form, magnified to gigantic size by
his apprehensions and the opaqueness through which he saw it, loomed up
directly ahead and apparently not a rod away. With a sharp cry of
warning the lad sprang aft, while a yell of dismay came from the
stranger. The next moment, both vessels having been headed sharply
into the wind, lay side by side, heaving and grinding against each
other, with their sails slatting noisily overhead.
As our lads realised the true character of the other craft, they were
ready to laugh at their fright of a minute earlier, for she was only an
open fishing boat, carrying three men, a woman, and a couple of
children.
"We took ye for a steamer, first sight," remarked one of the men.
"And we did the same by you," laughed White. "Who are you and where
are you bound?"
"Mail boat from L'Anse Au Loup for Flower Cove," replied the man, "and
as we're not sure of our compass we'd be obleeged if you'd give us a
bearing."
"With pleasure. Come aboard and take it for yourself. If you'll wait
just a minute I'll have a letter ready for you."
So saying the young skipper dived below and hastily pencilled a line to
his mother, telling of their safety up to that time.
While he was thus engaged Cabot learned that owing to the recent
arrival of a steamer from St. Johns provisions were plentiful on that
part of the Labrador coast, but were believed to be scarce further
north.
As a result of this information the "Sea Bee" was headed more to the
eastward after the boats had again parted company, for, as White said,
there was no use wasting time running in to Blanc Sablon, Forteau, or
any of those places at which the trading steamer had touched. "It is
too bad," he continued, "for I did hope to dispose of our cargo
somewhere along here. If we could do that we might be home again
inside of ten days. Now, if we have to go far to the northward, it may
be two or three weeks longer before we again sight Blomidon."
"I am sorry for your sake," replied Cabot, "though I would just as soon
spend a month up here as not. I only wish we could land somewhere
along here, for I am curious to see what land of a country Labrador is."
This wish was gratified late that afternoon, when the fog lifted in
time to disclose the fine harbour of Red Bay, into which, White said,
they would run, so as to spend the night quietly at anchor, with both
watches turned in at once.
At Red Bay, therefore, Cabot had his first taste of life in Labrador.
The shores looked so green and attractive that he wondered why the only
settlement in sight--a collection of a dozen huts and fish houses,
should be located on a rocky islet, bare and verdureless. He asked
White, who only laughed, and said he'd find out soon enough by
experience.
After they had come to anchor and lowered the sails, White got an empty
water cask into the dinghy, saying that first of all they must go about
a mile to a trout stream at the head of the bay for some fresh water.
"Trout stream!" cited Cabot. "How I wish I had my fishing tackle.
Trout for supper would be fine."
"There are other things equally important with tackle for trout fishing
in this country," remarked White.
"What, for instance?"
"You'll know inside of half an hour," was the significant reply.
So they rowed up the bay, Cabot filled with curiosity and White
chuckling with anticipation. The further they went the more was Cabot
charmed with the beauty of the scene and the more desirous did he
become to ramble over the green slopes on which, as White assured him,
delicious berries of several varieties were plentiful. At length they
opened a charming valley, through which wound and tumbled a sparkling
brook thickly bordered by alders and birches. At one side were several
substantial log cabins, but as they were evidently uninhabited Cabot
began to undress, declaring that he must have a bath in that tempting
water.
"Better keep your shirt on until we have filled the cask," advised
White, at the same time stepping overboard in the shallows at the mouth
of the stream without removing any of his clothing. They pulled the
boat up until it grounded, and then White began hurriedly to fill the
water barrel, while Cabot waded a short distance up stream to see if he
could discover any trout. All at once he stopped, looked bewildered,
and then started back on a run. At the same time he slapped vigorously
at his bare legs, brushed his face, waved his arms, and uttered
exclamations of frantic dismay. The air about him had been suddenly
blackened by an incredible swarm of insects that issued in dense clouds
from the low growth bordering the stream, and attacked the unfortunate
youth with the fury of starvation.
"What's the matter?" inquired White innocently, as his companion rushed
past him towards the open.
"Matter!" retorted the other. "I'm on fire with the bites of these
infernal things, and we want to get out of here in a hurry or they'll
sting us to death."
"Oh, pshaw!" laughed White, though he also was suffering greatly.
"You've only struck a few ordinary Labrador mosquitoes and black flies."
"Mosquitoes and black flies!" cried Cabot. "Hornets and red-hot coals,
you'd better say. How can you stand them? Your skin must be thicker
than sole leather."
"I can't very well," admitted White, "but this cask has got to be
filled, and the sooner we do it the quicker we can get away. Break off
a couple of leafy branches to fight with and then keep 'em off both of
us as well as you can. It will only take a few minutes longer."
In spite of their efforts at self-defence, faces, hands, and Cabot's
bare legs were covered with blood before their task was completed, and
they were once more in the boat pulling furiously for the wind-swept
water of the open bay.
"I never expected to find mosquitoes this far north," said Cabot, as
the pests began to disappear before the freshening breeze and the
rowers paused for breath.
"Strangers are apt to be unpleasantly surprised by them," replied
White, "but they are here all the same, and they extend as far north as
any white man has ever been. I have been told that they are as bad in
Greenland as here, and I expect they flourish at the North Pole itself.
They certainly are the curse of Labrador, and until ice makes in the
fall they effectually prevent all travel into the interior. Even the
Indians have to come to the coast in summer to escape them, while the
whites who visit this country for the fishing make their settlements on
the barest and most wind-swept places. The few who live here the year
round have summer homes on the coast, but build their winter houses
inland, at the heads of bays or the mouths of rivers, where there is
timber to afford some protection from the cold. Those are winter
houses back there."
"I wondered why they were abandoned," said Cabot, "but I don't any
longer."
"By the way," suggested White, "you forgot to try the trout fishing.
Shall we go back?"
"I wouldn't go fishing on that stream if every trout in it was of solid
gold and I could scoop them out with my hands," asserted Cabot. "In
fact, I don't know of anything short of starvation, or dying of thirst,
that would take me back there."
After supper our lads went ashore at the island settlement, and were
hospitably received by the dwellers in its half-dozen stoutly built,
earthen-roofed houses. These were constructed of logs, set on end like
palisades, and while they were scantily furnished, they were warm and
comfortable. In them Cabot, who was regarded with great curiosity on
account of having come from the far foreign city of New York, asked
many questions, and acquired much information concerning the strange
country to which Fate had brought him. Thus he learned that Labrador
is a province of Newfoundland, and that while its prolific fisheries
attract some 20,000 people to its bleak shores every summer, its entire
resident white population hardly exceeds one thousand souls. He was
told that from June to October news of the outside world is received by
steamer from St. Johns every two or three weeks, but that during the
other eight months of the year only three mails reach the country,
coming by dog sledge from far-away Quebec.
While Cabot was gathering these and many other interesting bits of
information, White was becoming confirmed in his belief that to make a
successful trading trip he must carry his goods far to the northward.
So at daybreak of the following morning the "Sea Bee" was once more got
under way, and ran up the rock-bound coast past Chateau Bay, with its
superb Castle Rock, to Battle Harbour, the metropolis of Labrador,
which place was reached late the same evening.
At this point, which is at the eastern end of the Belle Isle Strait, is
a resident population of some two hundred souls, a hospital, a church,
a schoolhouse, and a prosperous mercantile establishment. Here our
lads found a large steamer loading with dried fish for Gibraltar, and
here Cabot became greatly interested in the rose-tinted quartz that
forms so striking a feature of Labrador scenery.
At Battle Harbour they were still advised to push farther on, and so,
bidding farewell to this outpost of civilisation, the "Sea Bee" again
spread her dusky wings and set forth for the mission stations of the
far North, where it was hoped a profitable market might be found.