BRIDGEWATER AND LUNENBURG
Yet the Blue-nose is first and foremost a fisherman.
When all is said of Nova Scotia’s varied resources of
farm and factory, and mine and forest, there is still to be told
the tale garnished with adventure of the great and abiding
interest of the peninsula and the island—the Nova Scotian
fisheries. Of a total population of half a million souls in
this province, over 40,000 men are engaged in the fisheries.
This will seem a stupendous and utterly unreasonable proportion
until I explain that the occupations of fisherman
and farmer, fisherman and forester, even fisherman and
miner, overlap in many districts, giving rise to a curious
combination of characteristics in the same individual, which
I had previously noticed amongst the fishermen-miners-farmers
of Newfoundland.
The sea-coast of the Maritime Provinces from the Bay
of Fundy to the strait of Belle Isle measures some 5600
miles, or about double that of the United Kingdom. In
this magnificent fishing field the Nova Scotian is lord paramount,
although others have at various times sought to
share them with him.
The total fisheries of Canada, the largest in the world,
are valued to-day at $25,500,000, of which Nova Scotia’s
share is $7,632,330, or nearly one-third of the whole. All
along this extensive sea-coast, in the bays, and harbours, and
inlets from Cape North to Cape Sable, for generations boats
have been putting out, manned by hardy stalwart men who
go to brave the perils of the deep, and there are many perils
in these latitudes, besides much cold and privation, in order
to reap a harvest of cod, lobster, mackerel, haddock, and
herring.[19]
Besides manning their own craft, the Nova Scotians, like
the Newfoundlander, mans the vessels of other countries,
especially American and British. The bulk of the product
goes to America, although for nearly a century an
important market has been found in the West Indies and
South America, while the trade with Great Britain, France,
Italy, Germany, and Portugal is increasing annually.
[Footnote 19: The following table shows the number of men reported as
employed in the fisheries of Nova Scotia, and the value of boats and
fishing material for the year 1910-11:—
Number. Value.
Vessels (tons, 19,657) 630 $891,710
Boats (gasolene) 1,466}
Boats (sail) 12,655} =781,724
Tugs and smacks 164 193,730
Gill nets (1,682,522 fathoms) ... 555,374
Seines (170,809 fathoms) ... 170,375
Trap and smelt nets 1,186 119,276
Weirs 144 25,145
Trawls 13,763 133,848
Hand lines 43,900 32,936
Lobster canneries 214 226,780
Lobster traps 720,577 606.851
Freezers and ice houses 345 321,040
Smoke and fish houses 5,705 488,203
Piers and wharves 2,326 787,100
—————— ———————
Total $5,334,083
Under the proposed Reciprocity Agreement with the
United States the fishing industry of the Province would
have been vitally affected, to Nova Scotia’s advantage.
“I’m off to the Bank fishery
From my farm at Port Matoon,
Where my little lass awaits me,
And I can’t get back too soon.”
Schooners of about 100 tons burden carry off the men
to the Bank fishery. When they reach the Banks—those
great marine plateaux frequented by inexhaustible shoals
of cod, the fishermen separate into dories, six to ten of
which accompany each schooner. From each dory, which
is about 15 feet long, two men, six trawls of say, 4000
hooks, making a total of about 40,000 hooks to a vessel.
Far smaller crafts are in use, however, for the inshore
fishery. One can see these boats, of from 20 to 60
feet over all, and manned by from two to ten men, at
any port, using the dory and trawl, or the hand-line.
But the familiar British otter trawl is not seen here at
all, and trawls of any description are illegal in Canadian
territorial waters.
Mackerel and herring are captured in nets moored near
the shore. One sees little of drift-net fishing, although it
is occasionally practised.
In the opinion of fishing experts the herring hereabouts
are not only more abundant, but are a larger and
better fish than those off the British coasts. Then there
is the inland fishery, which yields chiefly smelts, salmon,
trout, and eels, large quantities of which are sent in cold
storage to all parts of Canada and America, a trade which
offers great possibilities of expansion. This remark is
true of the whole fishery—both in the actual catch and
in the distribution. Improved methods are wanted, which
means that more technical knowledge and more capital
are wanted. A more progressive system is already here
and there in operation. The employment of gasolene
motor boats for inshore fishing makes the fishermen more
independent of the weather, and hundreds of their boats
may now be seen off the south-west shore.
Enormous numbers of lobsters are caught and canned,
and exported by two hundred and twenty canning factories
scattered up and down the coast. Their sale to the
packers means the distribution of a great deal of cash
among the fishermen of Western Nova Scotia, frequently
running into hundreds of thousands of dollars. But in
spite of all that is done, I find a general feeling that much
more could be done in the way of catching and curing
according to those scientific principles which prevail in
Norway and Denmark, and also in the shipments of living
lobsters to the States.
Few are aware that only in these Maritime Provinces
of Canada and Newfoundland are lobsters procurable in
sufficient quantities to make canning profitable. The
catches of Norway, Scotland, Ireland, and America are
not sufficient to supply the demands of the consumers
for lobsters in the shell. Unhappily it cannot be said
that the lobster industry as regards hatching, conservation,
and canning is placed here on a very sound footing. In
fact, unless a new style is adopted the lobster will be a
diminishing crustacean.
A year or two ago at Ottawa, a Fishery Committee of
the House of Commons was formed, and fishermen and
packers from various sections of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick,
and Prince Edward Island were summoned to Ottawa
to give evidence, but little practical resulted.
While the catch of lobsters in the United States is not
more than ten per cent. of the total catch of the world
(Canada enjoys a catch fully eight times as great), the
Fisheries Department of the States of Maine and Massachusetts
have spent a very considerable sum in an effort
to restore and restock their depleted waters with lobsters.
The Dominion Marine and Fisheries Department, which is
responsible for the care of the lobster fishery, have not expended
nearly as much as they have in these two American
States.
This condition ought to be changed if the permanence
of a most productive branch of the fisheries of Eastern
Canada is to be guaranteed.
Happily, the lobster catch last year was very successful
to the fishermen and packers alike, and by the present
regulations, whereby during a long close season the fishing
is absolutely prohibited, the lobsters are protected and
given a reasonable opportunity of natural propagation.
The oyster is little cultivated, and yet it is claimed
for Nova Scotia that she has a larger cultivable area for
oyster beds than many districts where it is a source of great
profit, as for instance, Maryland, where as much as ten
million bushels of bivalves have been extracted. Here a
few thousand bushels are all that is forthcoming.
The truth is, the fisheries of Nova Scotia are only
partially occupied, and are an inviting field for the investment
of capital in enterprising hands. With its unexcelled
position, with a population of as hardy and courageous
men as are to be found anywhere, there is no reason why
Nova Scotia in its fisheries should not rank even higher
in point of production than it does now.
Speaking of oysters suggests pearls, and I was not
surprised to hear that in the scallop oysters on these
shores are found pearls of a fair quality. Numbers of
the scallops may be found in Chester Basin, Lunenberg
country, which, if collected in the right season, might be
valuable and give employment to many in collecting and
working. Several samples of pearl I saw seemed to me
to compare favourably with those imported from abroad,
and no doubt the scallop contains many valuable gems.
Who knows, therefore, but that the pearl fishery may
yet be carried on here in Nova Scotia as profitably as
it is elsewhere?
[Illustration: A NEW SCOTLAND IDYLL—IN THE ANNAPOLIS VALLEY.]
Bridgewater is one of the most perfect towns in New
Scotland, beautifully situated on a river bluff, picturesquely
environed, well built, with an enterprising corporate spirit,
and inhabited by a cheerful, unpretending people. It is
within easy reach of both sea and forest, and it is the
headquarters of both the railway and of a large timber-carrying
fleet, which visits many of the distant ports of
the world. I shall not easily forget the view that burst
upon me as I set foot upon the first span of the bridge
that crosses the La Hêve River coming from the railway
station, the tree-clad banks to right and left, with the
verdure fading into the grey purple of the distant clouds,
the white sails of the ships shot with sunlight, the broad,
clear, swift-flowing stream; and, facing me, the colour and
brightness of the town itself, three or four streets running
parallel to the river, the first containing all the shops, each
street rising high above the other, and the last on the sky-line.
There was movement, but no hurry. Pretty girls,
carrying school-books, moved along, dissolved in rippling
laughter. Teams drawn by great red oxen coursed leisurely
to and fro, directed by cheerful teamsters. And above all
the intensely yellow sunlight poured down, making rich
heaps of shadow; and the air, redolent of the pine groves,
pressed southward in warm and scented volumes, seeking
the sea. It was good.
My luggage went on by omnibus, and I made way to
Clark’s Hotel on foot. Here is an inn after my heart—after
the heart of any traveller. Perched high on the Street
of the Third Parallel, it was once a commodious private
dwelling, with steep steps and the usual verandah in front.
A hedge of English hawthorn encircles it, and high planes
and maples cast their shade about lawn and verandah.
Within, an air of cosiness pervades; all is spotlessly
clean, and trim and active maid-servants cheerfully attend
to the traveller’s needs. The food is good of its kind and
tastefully prepared, and it needs but a little to make this
inn perfect, and that little will never be supplied until the
travellers themselves learn how to behave themselves—to
learn, for instance, that in order to smoke it is not
necessary to excrete saliva, and that one of the uses of a
hotel is not that of a lounging-place for local idlers.
These latter are the pests of hotels throughout the Continent,
making an inn occasionally insufferable for the real
sojourner.
Bridgewater has a population of over 3000, and is
steadily increasing in size and importance. It is the centre
of trade for a fertile farming county, and has considerable
manufacturing and commercial interests; well-built public
buildings, particularly its brown stone Post Office and
Customs House, and several golf, tennis, and yachting
clubs. But Bridgewater will always be memorable to me
because of what was the most interesting incident of my
travels through Nova Scotia. It was here I met the
members of the Royal Commission appointed at Ottawa to
inquire into Technical Education. I should like particularly
to direct the attention of the British reader to this fact—a
_Royal_ Commission appointed by His Majesty’s Government,
not at London, but—at Ottawa. How this British
Empire of ours has marched! Would not Haliburton and
Howe have pinched themselves to make sure they were
awake upon hearing His Majesty’s Commission (duly
drawn up by His Majesty’s Canadian Ministers) read,
beginning “George the Fifth, by the Grace of God,”
&c. It only needed “King of Canada, Newfoundland,
and the West Indies” more clearly to adumbrate the
idea. Here was King George III.’s great-grandson pronouncing
his Sovereign will and pleasure upon the advice
of His Majesty’s constitutional advisers, not Mr. Asquith,
Sir Edward Grey, and Mr. Lloyd George, but the members
of the Cabinet at Ottawa. A group of gentlemen constituting
this Royal Commission sat upon the platform. One
hailed from Manitoba, two from Ontario, one from Quebec,
one from Nova Scotia. Before them witnesses resident in the
district were duly sworn, that they would tender the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them
God; and forthwith proceeded to give evidence as to the
industrial conditions of Bridgewater.
Towards the close of the proceedings something
dramatic happened. A little, old, white-haired, rosy-cheeked
man arose and declared modestly that his name
was John Macoun, the official botanist of the Dominion
of Canada. And people stood and craned their necks,
and asked what was it he said, and how it was they had
never known this Professor Macoun was in Bridgewater
before, and why was it the Mayor and the rest hadn’t met
him at the railway station with the others and driven him
round the town.
“Where do you reside at present, Professor Macoun?”
“At Bridgewater,” said the old, rosy-cheeked gentleman.
“I have been for some months conducting an investigation
into the flora of the district, with a view to ascertaining its
botanical possibilities, the arable nature of the soil, and its
adaptability to other vegetable production.”
Then, in truth, the folk of Bridgewater stared this time
at one another. Here was this man, filling a very important
position indeed in an agricultural country like Canada,
dwelling quietly in the midst of their small town, not
alone, but with his wife and assistants, pursuing his work,
gathering his collections of flora, compiling in a specially-rented
building his extensive _hortus siccus_, and not a soul
of them the wiser.
“_I believe in technical education, because it means
thoroughness, and thoroughness means that a man knows his
work. I am the man who forty years ago told the Canadian
Government that wheat would grow in the North West.
Every one was against me. I was threatened and reviled,
and held up to ridicule. All the forces of prejudice and tradition
were brought to bear upon my official report. I was
told I was mad. But I held in this right hand earth whose
constituent particles I recognised. I had studied them grain
by grain, and I knew if they would produce wheat in Ontario,
they would yield wheat in the Red River country; and I said
that that country, where not a single bushel of wheat was grown,
would produce fifty million bushels a year. Last year it produced
a hundred millions, and I thank God I have lived
to see it. And if you Nova Scotians would only listen and
have equal faith in your own country, it could be made ten
times richer and more fruitful than it is to-day._”
That is all. The Professor sat down. Anything that
happened after that it would be bathos to describe.
Lunenburg, on the south shore, was settled in 1751 by
Hanoverian immigrants, and still largely retains its German
character. The settlement was under the protection of
King George II., who was also ruler of Hanover. The old
German speech has not yet died out amongst them, although
I heard one inhabitant deploring that the last fount of
German type had been melted down, and for some years no
German periodical had been printed. Famous fishermen
are the Lunenburg folk; there is much lumbering, and
some farming. One notices a reminder of old Germany in
the ox-teams, curiously yoked together by the horns.
Mahone was once a popular rendezvous for pirates.
Their long crouching crafts were so often harboured there
that the early French settlers dubbed the bay “Mahonne,”
an old French term for a low-lying boat. Later the name
was anglicised, and extended to the town which snuggles
at the head of the bay, half-hidden by encircling hills.
From the tops of the hills the old-time beacons blazed a
message of distress or a flash of warning to the neighbouring
settlements when the Indians trod the war trail.
Now the beacon sites are vantage points for viewing the
glorious stretch of island-studded bay below. Shaggy, uncombed
pines surmount the hillsides, and charge the air
with revivifying odour.
Chester is a popular summer resort for Haligonians,
whose charmingly wooded hills, now so redolent of peace,
were once the rendezvous of pirates; notably, so tradition
says, of that estimable scoundrel, Captain Kyd. The Oak
Island Money Pit, within easy sighting distance of the
Hackmatack Inn porch, is a tantalising memorial of piracy
on the Spanish Main. A million dollars have been spent
by joint stock companies trying to dam out the Atlantic
and pump the Pit dry; but the treasure is still uncovered,
and doubtless will always be hidden—a source of mystery
and romance to many visitors. The bay, flanked by long,
sprawling hills, and protected at its mouth by a barrier of
rocky islands, is a beautiful stretch of water, twenty miles
long and twelve miles wide. Both bay and shoreline are
littered with points of interest. The names alone are a
delight—Oak Island, Murderer’s Point, Heckman’s Island,
Hobson’s Nose, The Ovens, Mount Aspogotan, Ironbound
Island, and The Tancooks. How R. L. Stevenson would
have revelled in them!