_Monday, August 27th, 1888._--When I rose, our ship was being slowly
towed by her boats out of the bay in search of a fair breeze. About
eleven we had to put down the anchor, as wind and current forbade our
attempting to pass between "the Turnpikes," two rocks in the narrow
channel before us. Here we lay all the day among islands. Barth, to
our left, is so called in honour of Dr. Barth of Calw, the compiler of
a Bible history translated by our missionaries into Eskimo, as well as
into the languages of several other people evangelized by our church.
Rhodes, to our right, is named after James Rhodes, a native of
Gomersal, Yorkshire, who was a missionary here for twenty-six years,
1771-1797. Lister, the snowy hill beyond, perpetuates the memory of
Christian Lister, another Yorkshireman, who crowned seventeen years of
service in Labrador by thirteen in Jamaica. It is well to be thus
reminded that the British Province of four missionary Unitas Fratrum
had several representatives in this mission field a hundred years ago.
William Turner (twenty-two years' service, 1771-93) was a native of
Halifax; and James Bramagin (1775-94) of Lurgan in the north of
Ireland; Samuel Towle (1782-91) came from the neighbourhood of
Ockbrook, Derbyshire, and Henry Shaw (1806-13) was again a
Yorkshireman. Further, Mary Butterworth (1771-84), of Birstal in
Yorkshire, gave herself to this mission as the wife of Jens Haven, its
founder; and later Mary Waters (1812-31), of Dukinfield in Lancashire,
married George Kmoch for similar service.
Yonder fjord running far inland is the _Nunaingoak_ Bay, which,
conveniently for the natives, embodies the foreign name given to their
station. Nain itself is behind that neck of land, on which our friends
have lit a fire as a signal that they perceive our vessel has not as
yet been able to leave them very far behind.
What a study of colour this evening effect would make! The sun has
just set and the sky to the north and west is orange, shading off into
yellow along the horizon. Between these curiously bright hues and
their fainter reflection on the rippling water, the nearer islands are
black as ink and the further mountains indigo.
_Tuesday, August 28th._--Besides the missionary pair, who are
accompanying me all the way from Hopedale to Europe, my fellow
passengers are now the superintendent, who has acceded to my request
to go with us to Okak, and a young missionary, transferred from Nain
to Ramah.
When I went on deck this morning we had passed the Turnpikes and were
gliding very slowly seawards between islands. The one which faced us
all the morning is called Tappé, after a worthy missionary, still
living, who served some years in Labrador, before going to Jerusalem
in 1867, to be the first "house-father" of the Leper Home. About noon
a fresh breeze sent us northward swiftly and safely through several
narrow and awkward passages. We passed two or three Newfoundland
fishing schooners, whose crews were doubtless interested to see the
"Dutch Bark," or the "foreigner" as they called the "Harmony." Our
other vessel, the "Gleaner," calls at St. John's, so she is not a
foreigner in the estimation of Newfoundland mariners. About two
o'clock we were off the island memorable for the shipwreck in which
Brasen and Lehmann lost their lives. Later we passed the rocks on to
which Liebisch and Turner escaped as by a miracle, when a sudden storm
broke up the ice over which they had been travelling. The scene must
have been terrific. One moment the frightened dogs drawing their
sledges were being urged at utmost speed over the leagues of heaving,
cracking ice. The nest, the shore was reached, and the missionaries
were overwhelmed with astonishment as they turned and looked upon a
raging, foaming sea, whose wild waves had already shattered the frozen
surface as far as the eye could reach. Even the heathen Eskimoes with
them joined in praising God for the wonderful deliverance.
This part of the coast is rugged and grand. There is a good deal of
snow on the heights of Aulatsivik and the northern extremity of that
great island is a bold precipitous cliff. Port Mauvers, at the mouth
of the narrow strait, which separates Aulatsivik from the mainland,
figures so prominently as a name upon most maps of Labrador, that one
might suppose it to be at least the capital. But there are no
inhabitants there, nor indeed all along the coast between Nain and
Okak. Kiglapeit, to the north, is so splendid a mountain range that I
am quite sorry we shall pass it in the dark. We are getting more into
the open sea as evening advances, and there are icebergs to be seen
here and there.
Come into the captain's cabin and look at this little budget of
letters. They are notes from Eskimoes at our southern stations to
their relatives and friends in the north. Some are funny little
pencilled scraps folded and oddly directed, e.g. "Kitturamut-Lucasib,
Okak." That means "To Keturah (the wife) of Lucas or Luke, at Okak."
Our Eskimoes seem to have a talent for phonetic spelling;
"ilianuramut" is evidently "To Eleanor," and "Amaliamut-kuniliusip,
Okak," is meant for "Amalia (the wife) of Cornelius at Okak." Some are
very respectable epistles, and I doubt not the Christian tone of most
would please us could we read the Eskimo language, with its strange
long words. Here is a good-sized letter folded and directed in a bold
clear hand, "Sosanemut-Andoneb, Hibron" (To Susannah, the wife of
Antony at Hebron). It is not sealed, so, as we shall scarcely
understand a word of its contents, we will venture to open it and
glance at them. It is a well-written letter, covering three pages of
blue foolscap paper, so it must be conveying a good deal of news to
Antony and Susannah. The writer names himself at the commencement,
"Boas-Kedoralo." "Lo" is Eskimo for "and," and "Kedora" is another
phonetic version of Keturah. He closes his long epistle with "Amen."
The Eskimoes also write the names of their missionaries with
considerable variations as to spelling. "Pinsilamut" might be the
address of a letter to Mr. Bindschedler, and I have seen "Karizima"'
stand for Mr. Kretschmer. The natives have no idea of such titles as
Mr. or Mrs., and they still call the majority of their missionaries by
their Christian names.
[Illustration: ICE AGROUND.]
_Wednesday, August 29th._--5 A.M. The sun just rising. We are between
Lundberg Island and the Saddle, so named from its shape. Its
"stirrups," two little rocks, are supplemented by a great, white berg.
To the south-west Kiglapeit is still visible, and to the west are the
hills on Okak Island, including "Smith Hill," so called after Tiger
Schmitt[A] of South African fame. I did not know before that the good
man had also been a missionary in Labrador. How ready our forefathers
were to go anywhere, everywhere, if only they could "win one soul for
the Saviour!" The grandest mountain in the landscape is Cape Mugford.
Yes, it does look like Salisbury Crags on a large scale, as a
missionary remarked to me last year on the Calton Hill in Edinburgh.
In the course of the morning Okak came in sight, visible at a much
greater distance than any other station. Another hour and we had
entered the bay and were approaching our anchorage. A very numerous
company gathered on the pier and sang; how or what I could not hear
for the rattling of our iron cable. Then the "Kitty" came off to us,
bringing the missionaries Schneider, Stecker, and Schaaf, and
seventeen natives.
Soon after we got ashore to be welcomed also by the three sisters, the
mist, which we had seen gathering round the Saddle, came in from the
sea, first drawing a broad, white stripe straight across the entrance
of the bay, then gradually enveloping everything. Experience of
driving to and fro off this coast in such a fog makes one doubly
thankful to be safe ashore, with our good ship riding at anchor in the
bay.