* * * * *
ON BOARD THE "JULIA A. DECKER,"
OFF ST. JOHN'S BAY, NEWFOUNDLAND.
We are bowling along with a fine southwest wind, winged out, mainsail
reefed and foresail two-reefed, and shall be in the straits in about
two hours. The Julia is a flyer. Between 12 and 4 this morning we
logged just 46 knots, namely, 13.5 miles per hour for four hours. I
doubt if I ever went much faster in a sailing vessel. It is now about
10 o'clock, and we have made over 75 miles since 4.
All hands are on watch for a first glimpse of the Labrador coast,
which will probably be Cape Armours with the light on it.
I wrote last time from Hawkesbury in the Gut of Canso. We laid there
all day Monday, July 6th, as the wind, southeast in the harbor, was
judged by everybody to be northeast out in George's Bay, and
consequently dead ahead for us. Monday evening, at the invitation of
the purser, we all went down aboard the "State of Indiana," the
regular steamer of the "State Line" between Charlottetown, P.E.I., and
Boston, touching at Halifax, and in the Gut.
After going ashore we stayed on the wharf till she left, singing
college songs, giving an impromptu athletic exhibition, etc., to the
intense delight of about fifty small boys (I can't conceive where they
all came from), and the two or three hundred servant girls going home
to P.E.I. for a summer vacation.
I would put in here parenthetically, that since writing the above I
have been on deck helping jibe the mainsail, as we have changed our
course to about east by north, having rounded a couple of small low,
sandy islands off the Bay of St. John, and now point straight into the
strait of Belle Isle.
In the afternoon we examined some of the old red sandstone which
underlies all that part of Cape Breton Island, found some good
specimens, and some very plain and deep glacial scratches. There is
also some coal and a good deal of shale in with the sandstone.
We had a good opportunity to see this, since the railroad connecting
Port Hawkesbury with Sidney is new, having started running only last
March, and hence the cuts furnished admirable fields in which to
examine the geology. The road is surveyed and bed made along the Cape
Breton shore of the Gut nearly to the northern end, and when completed
will be a delightful ride. I think the Gut for 10 miles north of Port
Hawkesbury resembles the Hudson just by the Palisades. It is grander
than Eggemoggin Reach and on a far larger scale than Somes' Sound. At
the northern end it broadens and becomes just a magnificent waterway,
without the grand scenery. We were becalmed nearly all day in George's
Bay, at one time getting pretty near Antigonish, but got a breeze
towards evening. We tried fishing several times but could not get a
bite though several fishermen were in sight and trawls innumerable. We
passed one fisherman, a fine three-master, just as we were coming out
of the Gut from Frenchman's Bay, going home, but with very little
fish.
I got the captain to call me about 4, Wednesday morning, to fish, but
got none. We were then off North Cape, having had a good breeze all
night. The wind was light all day, but towards the latter part of the
afternoon commenced to blow from the southeast, kicking up a nasty sea
very soon. We double reefed the mainsail reefed the foresail and
hauled the flying jib down. About 8 P.M. we laid to with the jib
hauled down, on the starboard tack. The wind had backed to the east
about four points and was blowing a gale. About 12 M. it suddenly
dropped, a flat calm, leaving a tremendous sea running from the
southeast, combined with a smaller one from the east. Our motions,
jumps, rolls and pitches, can be better imagined than described. It
seemed at times that our bow and our stern were where the mastheads
usually are, and our rails were frequently rolled under.
Rice and Hunt stood one watch, Cary and I the second, and here Rice,
though a good sailor and an experienced yachtsman, finally succumbed.
We hauled everything down with infinite difficulty, owing to the
violent motion, and made it fast, then let her roll and pitch to her
heart's content. A sorrier looking place than our wardroom, and a
sicker set of fellows it would be hard to find. The dishes had some
play in the racks, and kept up an infernal racket that I tried in
every way to stop and could not. To cap all, the wind came off a gale
northwest about 4 A.M., and made yet another sea. As soon as possible
we set a double-reefed foresail, and then I turned in. When I turned
out at noon we had made Newfoundland and set a whole foresail, jib and
one reef out of the mainsail. We were becalmed, but found excellent
fishing, so did not care. The sea had gone down and we began to enjoy
the Norway-like rugged coast of Newfoundland. The mountains come right
down to the water, and are about 1,400 feet high, by our measurement,
using angular altitude by sextant and base line, our distance off
shore as shown by our observation for latitude and longitude.
There are many deep, narrow-mouthed coves and harbors, a good number
of islands and points making a most magnificent coast line. In many
cases 50 or 75 fathoms are found right under the shore. Great patches
of snow, miles in extent, cover the mountain sides. Great brown
patches, which the professor thinks are washings from the fine
examples of erosion, but which look to me like patches of brown grass
as we see in Penobscot Bay on the islands, vary with what is
apparently a scrubby evergreen growth and bald, bare rocks. As we are
about 18 miles off, the blue haze over all makes an enlarged,
roughened and much more deeply indented Camden mountain coast line.
The bays are in some cases so deep that we can look into narrow
entrances and see between great cliffs, only a few miles apart, a
water horizon on the other side. We wished very much to get in towards
the shore, but the calm and very strong westerly current, about 1-1/2
knots, prevented.
While enjoying the calm in pleasant contrast to our late shaking up,
it will be well to introduce the members of the party whom Bowdoin has
thought worthy to bear her name into regions seldom vexed by a college
yell, and to whom she has entrusted the high duties of scientific
investigation, in which, since the days of Professor Cleaveland, she
has kept a worthy place.
[Members of the Expedition] In command is Prof. Leslie A. Lee, of the
Biological Department of Bowdoin. With a life-long experience in all
branches of natural history, the experience which a year in charge of
the scientific staff of the U.S. Fish Commission Steamer "Albatross"
in a voyage from Washington around Cape Horn to Alaska, and an
intimate connection with the Commission of many year's standing, and
the training that scholarly habits, platform lecturing and collegic
instruction have given him, you see a man still young, for he was
graduated from St. Lawrence University in 1872, and equal to all the
fatigues that out-of-door, raw-material, scientific work demands.
The rest of the party have yet to prove their mettle, and of them but
little can now be said. Dr. Parker, who, with the Professor, captain
and mate, occupies the cabin proper, is an '86 man, cut out for a
physician and thoroughly prepared to fulfil all the functions of a
medical staff, from administering quinine to repairing broken limbs.
Cary of '87, who is even now planning for his struggle with the
difficulties on the way to the Grand Falls, has had the most
experience in work of the sort the expedition hopes to do, save the
Professor and Cole. Logging and hunting in the Maine forests in the
vicinity of his home in Machias, and fishing on the Georges from Cape
Ann smacks, have fitted him physically, as taking the highest honors
for scholarship at Bowdoin, teaching and university work in his chosen
branch, have prepared him mentally, for the great task in which he
leads.
Cole who accompanies him up Grand River, was Prof. Lee's assistant on
the "Albatross," and is well fitted by experience and by a vigorous
participation in athletics at college before his graduation in '88.
From the expedition's actual starting place, Rockland, there are four
members: Rice, the yachtsman, Simonton, Spear and the writer, all fair
specimens of college boys, and eager to get some reflection from the
credit which they hope to help the expedition to win.
Portland has two representatives: Rich, '92, and Baxter, 93, the
latter our only freshman; while Bangor sends three: Hunt, '90, Hunt,
'91, who has charge of the dredging, and Hastings the taxidermist.
W.R. Smith, another salutatorian of his class, is one of the many
Maine boys whom Massachusetts has called in to help train the youth of
our mother Commonwealth, and has been at the head of the High School
at Leicester for the past year. He, too, is thought to equal in
physical vigor his mental qualities, and has been selected to brave
the hardships of the Grand River.
To complete the detail for this exploration, Young of Brunswick and of
'92, has been selected, another athlete of the college, who has had,
in addition to his training at Bowdoin, a year or more of instruction
in the schools and gymnasiums of Germany.
Porter, Andrews, and Newbegin, the latter, the only man not from
Maine, coming from Ohio, and only to be accounted for as a member of
the expedition by the fact that his initials P.C. stand for Parker
Cleaveland, finish the list, with but one exception and that is
Lincoln. The merry-maker and star on deck and below--except when the
weather is too rough--he keeps the crowd good-natured when fogs, rain,
head winds and general discomfort tend to discontent: and on shore he
sees that the doctor is not too hard worked in making the botanical
collections.
For two days we lazily drifted, the elements seeming to be making up
for their late riot; but the weather was clear and bright, the scenery
way off to our starboard was grand, and no one was troubled by the
delay, except as the thoughts of the Grand River men turned to the
great distance and the short time of their trip. At last, however, the
breeze came, with which I opened this letter, and which we then hoped
would continue till we reached Battle Harbor.
We just flew up the straits, saw many fishermen at anchor with their
dories off at the trawls, schooners and dories both jumping in great
shape; also a school of whales and an "ovea" or whale-killer, with a
fin over three feet long sticking straight up. He also broke right
alongside and blew. Considerable excitement attended our first sight
of an iceberg; it was a rotten white one, but soon we saw a lot, some
very dark and deep-colored.
[Red Bay] Our first sight of the long-desired coast was between Belle
Armours Point and the cliffs near Red Bay, the thick haze making the
outlines very indistinct. Just two weeks out from Rockland we made our
first harbor on the Labrador coast. Red Bay is a beautiful little
place, and with the added features of two magnificent icebergs close
by which we passed in entering, the towering red cliffs on the left
from which it takes its name, and the snug little island in the
middle, and the odd houses we saw dotting the shores of the summer
settlement of the natives, it seemed a sample fully equal to our
expectations of what we should find in Labrador.
There is an inner harbor into which we could have gone, with seven
fathoms of water and in which vessels sometimes winter as it is so
secure, but we did not enter it because the captain was doubtful which
of the two entrances to take and the chart seemed indefinite on the
point. There are about one hundred and seventy-five people in the
settlement, some of them staying there the year round, fishing in the
summer and hunting the rest of the time. They have another settlement
of winter houses at the head of the inner harbor, but, for convenience
in getting at their cod traps, live on the island in the middle, and
on the sides of the outer harbor in the summer. Their houses are made
of logs about the size of small railroad ties, which are stood on end
and clapboarded. The winter houses are built in a similar way with
earth packed around and over them.
The party for Grand River--Cary, Cole, W.R. Smith and Young--have
decided to dispense with a guide; very wisely, I think, from what I
have seen of native Labradoreans. While the journey they undertake is
one in which the skill of Indians or half-breeds, familiar with
Labrador wildernesses would be of great value and would add to the
comfort of our party, it is very doubtful if any living person has
ever been to the falls or knows any more about the last, and probably
the hardest part of the trip, than Cary. And, further, the travel is
so difficult that about all a man can carry is supplies for himself;
and the Indians cannot stand the pace that our men intend to strike;
nor, if it should come to the last extremity, and a forlorn hope was
needed to make a last desperate push for discovery or relief, could
the Indian guides, so far as we have any knowledge of them, be relied
on. That the boldest measures are often the surest, will probably
again be demonstrated by our Grand River party.
We tried the exploring boats very thoroughly at Chateau Bay, three of
us getting caught about six miles from the vessel in quite a blow, and
the well-laden boat proved herself very seaworthy. When loaded, she
still draws but little water, and is good in every way for the trip.
This letter was begun in the fine breeze off Newfoundland, but could
not be mailed till the port of entry and post-office of Labrador,
Battle Harbor, was reached. A week was consumed in getting from our
first anchorage in Labrador to this harbor, as the captain was
unaccustomed to icebergs, and properly decided to take no risks with
them in the strong shifting currents and thick weather of the eastern
end of the straits. The wind was ahead for several days, and the heavy
squalls coming off the land in quick succession made us fear the wind
would drop and leave us banging around in the fog that usually
accompanies a calm spell, so we kept close to harbors and dodged in on
the first provocation.
The season is three weeks late this year; the first mail boat has not
yet arrived, though last year at this time she was on her second trip.
The last report from the North--down the coast they call it--that went
to Newfoundland and St. John's was "that it was impassable ice this
side Hamilton Inlet." A vessel--a steam sealing bark--though, that was
here yesterday and has gone to Sidney, C.B.I., reports now that the
coast is clear to Hopedale. Beyond we know nothing about it.
On Henley and Castle Islands, at the mouth of Chateau Bay, are
basaltic table-lands about half a mile across, perfectly flat on top
and about two hundred feet high. We walked around one, went to its
top and secured specimens from the columns. The famous "natural
images" of men, are, to my eye, not nearly so good as the descriptions
lead one to expect. The history of the place could hardly be guessed
from its present barren, desolate, poverty-stricken appearance; but
the remains of quite a fort on Barrier Point show some signs of former
and now departed glory. It seems that it has been under the dominion
of England, France and the United States, all of whom took forceful
possession of it, and England and France have governed it. An American
privateer once sacked the place, carrying away, I believe, about 3,500
pounds worth of property. Now, a very small population eke out a
wretched existence by fishing, only a few remaining, living at the
heads of the bays, in the winter, and most of them going home to
Newfoundland.
The icebergs are in great plenty. I counted eighty from the basaltic
table-land at one time, and the professor saw even more at once. Belle
Isle is in plain sight from this place, looking like Monhegan from the
Georges Islands, though possibly somewhat longer.
[Battle Harbor] Finally, as the wind showed no signs of changing, the
captain, to our intense delight, decided to beat around to Battle
Harbor and we anchored here at about 5:50 P.M., July 17th. Many of the
icebergs we passed were glorious, and the scene was truly arctic. It
was bitterly cold, and heavy coats were the order of the day. We
passed Cape St. Charles, the proposed terminus of the Labrador
Railroad to reduce the time of crossing the Atlantic to four days, saw
the famous table-land, and soon opened Battle Harbor which we had to
beat up, way round to the northward, to enter. It was slow business
with a strong head current, but the fishermen say a vessel never came
around more quickly. We found the harbor very small, with rocks not
shown in chart or coast pilot, and had barely room to come to without
going ashore. We went in under bare poles, and then had too much way
on.
The agent for the Bayne, Johnston Co., which runs this place, keeping
nearly all its three hundred inhabitants in debt to it, is a Mr.
Smith, who has taken the professor and seven or eight of the boys on
his little steamer to the other side of the St. Lewis Sound. The
doctor has gone with them to look after some grip patients, and the
professor expects to measure some half-breed Eskimo living there. The
boys are expecting to get some fine trout. The grip was brought to
this region by the steamer bringing the first summer fishing colonies,
and has spread to all and killed a great many.
There is an Episcopal rector here, Mr. Bull, who says everybody had
it. I believe it is owing to his care and slight medical skill that
none have died here. It is hard for this people to have such a
sickness just as the fishing season is best. The doctor has
opportunity to use all and far more than the amount of medicine he
brought, much to Professor Lee's amusement. He is reaping a small
harvest of furs, grateful tokens of his services, that many of his
patients send him, and some of his presents have also improved our
menu.
This place is named Battle Harbor from the conflict that took place
here between the Indians and English settlers, aided by a man-of-war.
The remains of the fight are now in a swamp covered with fishflakes.
There are also some strange epitaphs in the village graveyard, with
its painted wooden head-boards, and high fence to keep the dogs out.
These latter are really dangerous, making it necessary to carry a
stick if walking alone. Men have been killed by them, but last year
the worst of the lot were exported across the bay, owing to a bold
steal of a child by them and its being nearly eaten up. They are a
mixture of Eskimo, Indian and wolf, with great white shaggy coats.
The steamer with mail and passengers from St. John's, Newfoundland, is
expected every day, and as our rivals for the honor of rediscovering
Grand Falls are probably on board, there is a race in store for us to
see who will get to Rigolette first, and which party will start ahead
on the perilous journey up the Grand River. As they have refused our
offer of co-operation, we now feel no sympathy with their task, and
will have but little for them till we see them, as we hope, starting
up the river several days behind our hardy crew.