account of the annoyance caused by flies and mosquitoes, which attacked
the hunters in swarms at all times, but more especially when they lay
down, unless they enveloped themselves in thick smoke, which is not much
more pleasant. Once when camping the weather became very bad, and the
party was twenty miles distant from Whapatigan as night threw her mantle
over the earth. The rain fell in torrents, the northeast wind blew
furiously, and the air was extremely cold. The oars of the boats were
fixed so as to support some blankets, and a small fire was with
difficulty kindled, on the embers of which a scanty meal was cooked. How
different from a camp on the shores of the Mississippi, where wood is
abundant, and the air generally not lacking heat, where mosquitoes,
although plentiful enough, are not accompanied by Caribou flies, and
where the barkings of a joyful Squirrel, or the notes of the Barred Owl,
that grave buffoon of our western woods, never fail to gladden the
camper as he cuts to the right and left such branches and canes as most
easily supply materials for forming a lodging for the night. On the
coast of Labrador there are no such things; granite and green moss are
spread around, silence like that of the grave envelops all, and when
night has closed the dreary scene from your sight, the Wolves, attracted
by the scent of the remains of your scanty repast, gather around you.
Cowards as they are they dare not venture on a charge; but their
howlings effectually banish sleep. You must almost roast your feet to
keep them warm, while your head and shoulders are chilled by the blast.
When morning comes, she smiles not on you with rosy cheeks, but appears
muffled in a gray mantle of cold mist, which shows you that there is no
prospect of a fine day. The object of the expedition, which was to
procure some Owls that had been observed there by day, was entirely
frustrated. At early dawn the party rose stiffened and dispirited, and
glad were they to betake themselves to their boats, and return to their
floating home.
Before we left Labrador, several of my young friends began to feel the
want of suitable clothing. The sailor's ever-tailoring system, was,
believe me, fairly put to the test. Patches of various colors ornamented
knees and elbows; our boots were worn out; our greasy garments and
battered hats were in harmony with our tanned and weather-beaten faces;
and, had you met with us, you might have taken us for a squad of
wretched vagrants; but we were joyous in the expectation of a speedy
return, and exulted at the thoughts of our success.
As the chill blast that precedes the winter's tempest thickened the fogs
on the hills and ruffled the dark waters, each successive day saw us
more anxious to leave the dreary wilderness of grim rocks and desolate
moss-clad valleys. Unfavorable winds prevented us for a while from
spreading our white sails; but at last one fair morning smiled on the
wintry world, the "Ripley" was towed from the harbor, her tackle
trimmed, and as we bounded over the billows, we turned our eyes towards
the wilds of Labrador, and heartily bade them farewell forever!
THE EGGERS OF LABRADOR
The distinctive appellation of "eggers" is given to certain persons who
follow, principally or exclusively, the avocation of procuring the eggs
of wild birds, with the view of disposing of them at some distant port.
Their great object is to plunder every nest, wherever they can find it,
no matter where, and at whatever risk. They are the pest of the
feathered tribes, and their brutal propensity to destroy the poor
creatures after they have robbed them, is abundantly gratified whenever
an opportunity presents itself.
Much had been said to me respecting these destructive pirates before I
visited the coast of Labrador, but I could not entirely credit all their
cruelties until I had actually witnessed their proceedings, which were
such as to inspire no small degree of horror. But you shall judge for
yourself.
See yon shallop, shyly sailing along; she sneaks like a thief wishing,
as it were, to shun the very light of heaven. Under the lee of every
rocky isle some one at the tiller steers her course. Were his trade an
honest one, he would not think of hiding his back behind the terrific
rocks that seem to have been placed there as a resort to the myriads of
birds that annually visit this desolate region of the earth, for the
purpose of rearing their young at a distance from all disturbers of
their peace. How unlike the open, the bold, the honest mariner, whose
face needs no mask, who scorns to skulk under any circumstances. The
vessel herself is a shabby thing; her sails are patched with stolen
pieces of better canvas, the owners of which have probably been stranded
on some inhospitable coast, and have been plundered, perhaps murdered,
by the wretches before us. Look at her again! Her sides are neither
painted, nor even pitched; no, they are daubed over, plastered and
patched with strips of Seal-skins laid along the seams. Her deck has
never been washed or sanded; her hold--for no cabin has she--though at
present empty, sends forth an odor pestilential as that of a charnel
house. The crew, eight in number, lie sleeping at the foot of their
tottering mast, regardless of the repairs needed in every part of her
rigging. But see! she scuds along, and as I suspect her crew to be bent
on the commission of some evil deed, let us follow her to the first
harbor.
[Illustration: AUDUBON, 1850.
FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE. OWNED BY MRS. ELIZABETH BERTHOUD GRIMSHAW.]
There rides the filthy thing! The afternoon is half over. Her crew have
thrown their boat overboard, they enter and seat themselves, each with a
rusty gun. One of them sculls the skiff towards an island for a century
past the breeding-place of myriads of Guillemots, which are now to be
laid under contribution. At the approach of the vile thieves, clouds of
birds rise from the rock and fill the air around, wheeling and screaming
over their enemies. Yet thousands remain in an erect posture, each
covering its single egg, the hope of both parents. The reports of
several muskets loaded with heavy shot are now heard, while several dead
and wounded birds fall heavily on the rock, or into the water. Instantly
all the sitting birds rise and fly off affrighted to their companions
above, and hover in dismay over their assassins, who walk forward
exultingly, and with their shouts mingling oaths and execrations. Look
at them! See how they crush the chick within its shell, how they trample
on every egg in their way with their huge and clumsy boots. Onward they
go, and when they leave the isle, not an egg that they can find is left
entire. The dead birds they collect and carry to their boat. Now they
have regained their filthy shallop; they strip the birds by a single
jerk, of their feathery apparel while the flesh is yet warm, and throw
them on some coals, where in a short time they are broiled. The rum is
produced when the Guillemots are fit for eating, and after stuffing
themselves with this oily fare, and enjoying the pleasure of beastly
intoxication, over they tumble on the deck of their crazed craft, where
they pass the short hours of night in turbid slumber.
The sun now rises above the snow-clad summit of the eastern mount.
"Sweet is the breath of morn," even in this desolate land. The gay
Bunting erects his white crest, and gives utterance to the joy he feels
in the presence of his brooding mate. The Willow Grouse on the rock
crows his challenge aloud. Each floweret chilled by the night air
expands its pure petals. The gentle breeze shakes from the blades of
grass the heavy dew-drops. On the Guillemot isle the birds have again
settled, and now renew their loves. Startled by the light of day, one of
the eggers springs to his feet and rouses his companions, who stare
around them for a while, endeavoring to collect their senses. Mark them,
as with clumsy fingers they clear their drowsy eyes! Slowly they rise on
their feet. See how the filthy lubbers stretch out their arms, and yawn;
you shrink back, for verily "that throat might frighten a shark."
But the master soon recollecting that so many eggs are worth a dollar or
a crown, casts his eye towards the rock, marks the day in his memory and
gives orders to depart. The light breeze enables them to reach another
harbor a few miles distant, one which, like the last, lies concealed
from the ocean by some other rocky isle. Arrived there, they re-act the
scene of yesterday, crushing every egg they can find. For a week each
night is passed in drunkenness and brawls, until, having reached the
last breeding-place on the coast, they return, touch at every isle in
succession, shoot as many birds as they need, collect the fresh eggs,
and lay in a cargo. At every step each ruffian picks up an egg so
beautiful that any man with a feeling heart would pause to consider the
motive which could induce him to carry it off. But nothing of this sort
occurs to the egger, who gathers and gathers until he has swept the rock
bare. The dollars alone chink in his sordid mind, and he assiduously
plies the trade which no man would ply who had the talents and industry
to procure subsistence by honorable means.
With a bark nearly half filled with fresh eggs they proceed to the
principal rock, that on which they first landed. But what is their
surprise when they find others there helping themselves as industriously
as they can! In boiling rage they charge their guns and ply their oars.
Landing on the rock they run up to the eggers, who, like themselves, are
desperadoes. The first question is a discharge of musketry, the answer
another. Now, man to man, they fight like tigers. One is carried to his
boat with a fractured skull, another limps with a shot in his leg, and a
third feels how many of his teeth have been driven through the hole in
his cheek. At last, however, the quarrel is settled; the booty is to be
equally divided; and now see them all drinking together. Oaths and
curses and filthy jokes are all that you hear; but see, stuffed with
food, and reeling with drink, down they drop one by one; groans and
execrations from the wounded mingle with the snoring of the heavy
sleepers. There let the brutes lie.
Again it is dawn, but no one stirs. The sun is high; one by one they
open their heavy eyes, stretch their limbs, yawn, and raise themselves
from the deck. But see, here comes a goodly company. A hundred honest
fishermen, who for months past have fed on salt meat, have felt a desire
to procure some eggs. Gallantly their boats advance, impelled by the
regular pull of their long oars. Each buoyant bark displays the flag of
its nation. No weapons do they bring, nor anything that can be used as
such save their oars and their fists. Cleanly clad in Sunday attire,
they arrive at the desired spot, and at once prepare to ascend the rock.
The eggers, now numbering a dozen, all armed with guns and bludgeons,
bid defiance to the fishermen. A few angry words pass between the
parties. One of the eggers, still under the influence of drink, pulls
his trigger, and an unfortunate sailor is seen to reel in agony. Three
loud cheers fill the air. All at once rush on the malefactors; a horrid
fight ensues, the result of which is that every egger is left on the
rock beaten and bruised. Too frequently the fishermen man their boats,
row to the shallops, and break every egg in the hold.
The eggers of Labrador not only rob the birds in this cruel manner, but
also the fishermen, whenever they can find an opportunity; and the
quarrels they excite are numberless. While we were on the coast, none of
our party ever ventured on any of the islands which these wretches call
their own, without being well provided with means of defence. On one
occasion, when I was present, we found two eggers at their work of
destruction. I spoke to them respecting my visit, and offered them
premiums for rare birds and some of their eggs; but although they made
fair promises, not one of the gang ever came near the "Ripley."
These people gather all the eider-down they can find; yet so
inconsiderate are they, that they kill every bird which comes in their
way. The eggs of Gulls, Guillemots, and Ducks are searched for with
care; and the Puffins and some other birds they massacre in vast numbers
for the sake of their feathers. So constant and persevering are their
depredations that these species, which, according to the accounts of the
few settlers I saw in the country, were exceedingly abundant twenty
years ago, have abandoned their ancient breeding places, and removed
much farther north in search of peaceful security. Scarcely, in fact,
could I procure a young Guillemot before the eggers left the coast, nor
was it until late in July that I succeeded, after the birds had laid
three or four eggs each, instead of one, and when, nature having been
exhausted, and the season nearly spent, thousands of these birds left
the country without having accomplished the purpose for which they had
visited it. This war of extermination cannot last many years more. The
eggers themselves will be the first to repent the entire disappearance
of the myriads of birds that made the coast of Labrador their summer
residence, and unless they follow the persecuted tribes to the
northward, they must renounce their trade.
THE SQUATTERS OF LABRADOR
Go where you will, if a shilling can there be procured, you may expect
to meet with individuals in search of it.
In the course of last summer, I met with several persons, as well as
families, whom I could not compare to anything else than what in America
we understand by the appellation of "squatters." The methods they
employed to accumulate property form the subject of the observations
which I now lay before you.
Our schooner lay at anchor in a beautiful basin on the coast of
Labrador, surrounded by uncouth granitic rocks, partially covered with
stunted vegetation. While searching for birds and other objects I
chanced one morning to direct my eye towards the pinnacle of a small
island, separated from the mainland by a very narrow channel, and
presently commenced inspecting it with my telescope. There I saw a man
on his knees with clasped hands, and face inclined heavenwards. Before
him was a small monument of unhewn stones, supporting a wooden cross.
In a word, reader, the person whom I thus unexpectedly discovered was
engaged in prayer. Such an incident in that desolate land was affecting,
for there one seldom finds traces of human beings; and the aid of the
Almighty, although necessary everywhere, seems there peculiarly required
to enable them to procure the means of subsistence. My curiosity having
been raised, I betook myself to my boat, landed on the rock, and
scrambled to the place, where I found the man still on his knees. When
his devotions were concluded, he bowed to me, and addressed me in very
indifferent French. I asked him why he had chosen so dreary a spot for
his prayers. "Because," answered he, "the sea lies before me, and from
it I receive my spring and summer sustenance. When winter approaches, I
pray fronting the mountains on the main, as at that period the Caribous
come towards the shore, and I kill them, feed on their flesh, and form
my bedding of their skins." I thought the answer reasonable, and as I
longed to know more of him, followed him to his hut. It was low, and
very small, formed of stones plastered with mud to a considerable
thickness. The roof was composed of a sort of thatching made of weeds
and moss. A large Dutch stove filled nearly one half the place; a small
port-hole then stuffed with old rags, served at times instead of a
window; the bed was a pile of Deerskins; a bowl, a jug, and an iron pot
were placed on a rude shelf; three old and rusty muskets, their locks
fastened by thongs, stood in a corner; and his buckshot, powder, and
flints, were tied up in bags of skin. Eight Esquimaux dogs yelled and
leaped about us. The strong smell that emanated from them, together with
the smoke and filth of the apartment, rendered my stay in it extremely
disagreeable.
Being a native of France, the good man showed much politeness, and
invited me to take some refreshment, when, without waiting for my
assent, he took up his bowl, and went off I knew not whither. No sooner
had he and his strange dogs disappeared than I went out also, to breathe
the pure air, and gaze on the wild and majestic scenery around. I was
struck with the extraordinary luxuriance of the plants and grasses that
had sprung up on the scanty soil in the little valley which the squatter
had chosen for his home. Their stalks and broad blades reached my waist.
June had come, and the flies, mosquitoes, and other insects filled the
air, and were as troublesome to me as if I had been in a Florida swamp.
The squatter returned, but he was chop-fallen; nay, I thought his visage
had assumed a cadaverous hue. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he told me
that his barrel of _rum_ had been stolen by the "eggers" or some
fishermen. He said that he had been in the habit of hiding it in the
bushes, to prevent its being carried away by those merciless thieves,
who must have watched him in some of his frequent walks to the spot.
"Now," said he, "I can expect none till next spring, and God knows what
will become of me in the winter."
Pierre Jean Baptiste Michaux had resided in that part of the world for
upwards of ten years. He had run away from the fishing-smack that had
brought him from his fair native land, and expected to become rich some
day by the sale of the furs, Seal-skins, eider-down, and other articles,
which he collected yearly, and sold to the traders who regularly visited
his dreary abode. He was of moderate stature, firmly framed, and as
active as a Wild Cat. He told me that excepting the loss of his rum, he
had never experienced any other cause of sorrow, and that he felt as
"happy as a lord."
Before parting with this fortunate mortal, I inquired how his dogs
managed to find sufficient food. "Why, sir, during spring and summer
they ramble along the shores, where they meet with abundance of dead
fish, and in winter they eat the flesh of the Seals which I kill late
in autumn, when these animals return from the north. As to myself,
everything eatable is good, and when hard pushed, I relish the fare of
my dogs, I assure you, as much as they do themselves."
Proceeding along the rugged indentations of the bay with my companions,
I reached the settlement of another person, who, like the first, had
come to Labrador with the view of making his fortune. We found him after
many difficulties; but as our boats turned a long point jutting out into
the bay, we were pleased to see several small schooners at anchor, and
one lying near a sort of wharf. Several neat-looking houses enlivened
the view, and on landing, we were kindly greeted with a polite welcome
from a man who proved to be the owner of the establishment. For the rude
simplicity of him of the rum-cask, we found here the manners and dress
of a man of the world. A handsome fur cap covered his dark brow, his
clothes were similar to our own, and his demeanor was that of a
gentleman. On my giving my name to him, he shook me heartily by the
hand, and on introducing each of my companions to him, he extended the
like courtesy to them also. Then, to my astonishment, he addressed me as
follows: "My dear sir, I have been expecting you these three weeks,
having read _in the papers_ your intention to visit Labrador; and some
fishermen told me of your arrival at Little Natasquam. Gentlemen, walk
in."
Having followed him to his neat and comfortable mansion, he introduced
us to his wife and children. Of the latter there were six, all robust
and rosy. The lady, although a native of the country, was of French
extraction, handsome, and sufficiently accomplished to make an excellent
companion to a gentleman. A smart girl brought us a luncheon, consisting
of bread, cheese, and good port wine, to which, having rowed fourteen or
fifteen miles that morning, we helped ourselves in a manner that seemed
satisfactory to all parties. Our host gave us newspapers from different
parts of the world, and showed us his small, but choice collection of
books. He inquired after the health of the amiable Captain Bayfield of
the Royal Navy, and the officers under him, and hoped they would give
him a call.
Having refreshed ourselves, we walked out with him, when he pointed to a
very small garden, where a few vegetables sprouted out, anxious to see
the sun. Gazing on the desolate country around, I asked him how _he_ had
thus secluded himself from the world. For it he had no relish, and
although he had received a liberal education, and had mixed with
society, he never intended to return to it. "The country around," said
he, "is all my own, much farther than you can see. No fees, no lawyers,
no taxes are _here_. I do pretty much as I choose. My means are ample
through my own industry. These vessels come here for Seal-skins,
Seal-oil, and salmon, and give me in return all the necessaries, and
indeed comforts, of the life I love to follow; and what else could _the
world_ afford me?" I spoke of the education of his children. "My wife
and I teach them all that is _useful_ for them to know, and is not that
enough? My girls will marry their countrymen, my sons the daughters of
my neighbors, and I hope all of them will live and die in the country!"
I said no more, but by way of compensation for the trouble I had given
him, purchased from his eldest child a beautiful Fox's skin.
Few birds, he said, came round him in summer, but in winter thousands of
Ptarmigans were killed, as well as great numbers of Gulls. He had a
great dislike to all fishermen and eggers, and I really believe was
always glad to see the departure even of the hardy navigators who
annually visited him for the sake of his salmon, Seal-skins, and oil. He
had more than forty Esquimaux dogs; and as I was caressing one of them
he said, "Tell my brother-in-law at Bras d'Or, that we are all well
here, and that, after visiting my wife's father, I will give him a
call."
Now, reader, his wife's father resided at the distance of seventy miles
down the coast, and, like himself, was a recluse. He of Bras d'Or, was
at double that distance; but, when the snows of winter have thickly
covered the country, the whole family, in sledges drawn by dogs, travel
with ease, and pay their visits, or leave their cards. This good
gentleman had already resided there more than twenty years. Should he
ever read this article, I desire him to believe that I shall always be
grateful to him and his wife for their hospitable welcome.
When our schooner, the "Ripley," arrived at Bras d'Or, I paid a visit to
Mr. ----, the brother-in-law, who lived in a house imported from Quebec,
which fronted the strait of Belle Isle, and overlooked a small island,
over which the eye reached the coast of Newfoundland, whenever it was
the wind's pleasure to drive away the fogs that usually lay over both
coasts. The gentleman and his wife, we were told, were both out on a
walk, but would return in a very short time, which they in fact did,
when we followed them into the house, which was yet unfinished. The
usual immense Dutch stove formed a principal feature of the interior.
The lady had once visited the metropolis of Canada, and seemed desirous
of acting the part of a blue-stocking. Understanding that I knew
something of the fine arts, she pointed to several of the vile prints
hung on the bare walls, which she said were _elegant_ Italian pictures,
and continued her encomiums upon them, assuring me that she had
purchased them from an Italian, who had come there with a trunk full of
them. She had paid a shilling sterling for each, frame included. I could
give no answer to the good lady on this subject, but I felt glad to find
that she possessed a feeling heart, for one of her children had caught
a Siskin, and was tormenting the poor bird, when she rose from her seat,
took the little fluttering thing from the boy, kissed it, and gently
launched it into the air. This made me quite forget the tattle about the
fine arts.