Our dear missionaries who dwell in Labrador for the King's work have
certainly not much space in their small sitting-rooms and smaller
bedrooms, for each family is content with two apartments, easily
warmed in winter. They meet in the common dining room for meals, the
household worship or conference, and the sisters take it in turns, a
week at a time, to preside over the kitchen department, where they
have the aid of an Eskimo servant. Besides the ministry and the
pastoral care of their congregations, the brethren share between them
a vast variety of constantly recurring temporal duties, for in
Labrador there is no baker, greengrocer, and butcher round the corner,
and no mason, carpenter, plumber, painter or glazier to be called in
when repairs are needed. The missionaries must discharge all these
offices, as well as be their own gardener and smith, and on occasion
doctor, dentist, chemist, or anything else that may be necessary.
These general remarks hold good of mission life at every station, but
in many respects Okak is the most primitive of the six, and not least
in the appointments of the mission-house, like all the rest, built of
wood.
Glance round the two rooms kindly set apart for the English guest.
They are the same size as the simple domain of any one of the three
mission families resident here. The sitting-room is about fourteen
feet by twelve; its panelled walls are coloured a blue-green. The
floor is boarded, and over the middle a carpet is laid. In front of
the sofa, the seat of honour, stands a little table, and the high back
of my antique chair is within a foot of it as I write at the bureau
against the opposite wall. By the way, what convenient pieces of
furniture these bureaus are, especially to a visitor who has so much
writing to do! The other chair is of like pattern, with seat stuffed
and covered with sealskin. It stands between the door into the
bedroom and the high, white stove. Of course open fire-places are
unknown in Labrador, nor would they effectually warm the rooms. In the
corner by the door the Eskimo bench is the regular institution.
Sometimes my door opens, a native enters, sits down and smiles at me.
When we have exchanged the usual greetings, "Aksunai" (be strong) and
"Ahaila" (yes), my Eskimo vocabulary is nearly at an end, and I have
to fetch an interpreter. A cupboard and a stool complete the inventory
of my furniture. Do my readers wish to look into the bedroom about
fourteen feet by six? Two little bedsteads and another bureau scarcely
leave room to pass to the window. The prophet's table, chair, and
candlestick are there, also a washstand, a strip of carpet by the bed,
a little looking-glass, and some useful rows of hooks: I think that is
all; but in my endeavour to give a correct idea of the godly
simplicity of such a mission-house, I would not for anything
misrepresent the hospitable care, of which at every station I have the
most pleasant and grateful remembrance.
Now look out of my window. High hills close in the bay where the
"Harmony" lies at anchor some distance from the shore. Yesterday a
strong wind made her roll even in the harbour. The mission premises
stand within a few yards of the beach and the little pier runs out
into the water just in front of the gate. The tide is out now, and the
lighter which is bringing the stores from the ship has got aground.
The mate and some Eskimoes are trying to push it off, and among the
rest two women are standing in the water and pushing manfully. Their
position and occupation illustrate the utility of their national
female costume of trousers and boots. Skirts would be impracticable
when they go out boating and fishing with their husbands or trudge
through the deep snow, which lies on the ground more than half a year.
Nevertheless they look odd to an unaccustomed eye. The children are
comical miniatures of their fathers and mothers, and sometimes it is
difficult to tell whether they are boys or girls.
Do you see the station boat lying a little way from the end of the
pier? She is named the "Kitty," and has an interesting history. Many
years ago she brought to Okak the five survivors of the ship "Kitty"
lost in the ice of Hudson's Bay. The captain and ten men escaped in
the larger boat, but fell into the hands of heathen Eskimoes, who
treacherously murdered them all. Those in the smaller boat rounded
Cape Chudley and were driven by the wind among the islands near Okak.
Here they were seen by Eskimoes belonging to the station. Emaciated
and famished, they feared a cruel death, but to their astonishment the
natives helped them ashore, took them into their little hut of sods,
wrapped them in skins, and supplied them with food. Very beautiful to
those ship-wrecked mariners sounded the singing and very solemn the
prayers at the morning and evening devotions of their Eskimo
deliverers. As soon as the wind permitted, the natives brought them to
the station, where they were carried ashore to this mission-house and
received every attention. They were in a deplorable condition and the
missionaries had to perform some surgical operations on severely
frost-bitten limbs. When recovered, three of them went to the south,
and the other two worked their passage home in the "Harmony."
Here come a number of women and children running to the pier. Several
of the women have babies in their hoods. There must be something of
special interest. Yes, the fishermen from the schooner are coming
ashore in their boat, and I perceive their flag is flying half-mast
high, indicating a death aboard their vessel. They came into the bay
yesterday, piloted by some of our Eskimoes, and bringing a dying
comrade. Their request for medicine was at once granted, but the poor
man lay unconscious. His "mates" said he had not lacked spiritual
exhortation and comfort, adding simply and humbly, "several of us know
the way, sir." So they did, as was evident from further observation
of, and conversation with them. They were very grateful for Christian
literature.[B] Now they have come for boards to make a coffin for
their dead comrade, and the Eskimo women and children watch the
strangers with curiosity, but not rudely. On the whole, I think our
Eskimoes very well behaved. Their Christianity has certainly improved
their manners in everyday life, as well as made them remarkably devout
in church.
There is the church bell. Being the first Monday in the month, it is
the missionary prayer-meeting. Let us go. The interior of the church
is similar to that at Hopedale already described, and the congregation
is more numerous. Edification predominates, but one or two amusing
items may be noted. The babies are rather noisy. Should one or another
get too obstreperous, however, the mother slips it into her hood
behind, and marches to the door on the women's side. The worthy widow,
who acts as chapel servant, opens the door and then closes it upon the
little disturber of the peace. It is also amusing to a stranger to
watch the organ-blower, for this humble but important service to the
sanctuary has a prominent place here. The office is fulfilled by a
woman, clad in Eskimo fashion, and when the hymn is given out she
places one booted leg on the lever of the bellows and then, hymn book
in hand, treads wind into the instrument as vigorously as she sings.
During the concluding hymn a number of little heads and muffled up
little bodies appear above the four or five rows of women; they belong
to the babies who have already been heard and now are seen as their
mothers lift them up to slip them into the hoods of their sillapaks.
The babies being thus stowed away on their backs, the mothers are
ready to stand up and file out at the end of the service.
But, as I said before, edification predominates, and truly it is
edifying to hear the hearty singing and see the reverent demeanour of
all classes of this Eskimo congregation. I may here add that after
being present at between thirty or forty services at our six stations,
I do not remember seeing a single boy or girl talking or laughing with
a neighbour in church. Had one done so, no doubt he or she would have
received a timely rebuke from some native-helper. The Eskimoes at
Hopedale have been known to take the Newfoundland fishermen to task
for irreverence.