_Wednesday, September 5th._--About ten o'clock this morning a strong
breeze sprang up, and we speedily left behind us the friendly
red-roofed mission-house at Okak. When we entered the open sea and
turned northwards we passed near a grounded iceberg, curiously
hollowed out by the action of the waves. The seaward face of Cape
Mugford is even grander than its aspect from the heights around Okak.
It seems to be a perpendicular precipice of about 2000 feet, with
white base, and a middle strata of black rocks surmounted by
castellated cliffs. Presently the remarkably jagged peaks on the
island of Nennoktuk came out from behind the nearer headland. There's
a sail to the right of it! No, she is not another schooner; she is
two-masted and square rigged, and therefore the "Gleaner," the only
brigantine in these waters. So the two Moravian vessels pass one
another within a mile or two, the "Gleaner" on her way southward from
Hebron to Okak, whence she will take Mr. Bourquin home to Nain, the
"Harmony" pursuing her northward course past Hebron to Ramah. The
captains, who are consigns, exchange a salute by running up their
flags, but the sea is too rough to put down a boat.
_Thursday, September 6th._--We have had a rough night. This morning we
are off Hebron, but twenty-five miles out to sea. We have just passed
"the Watchman," an island which serves as a waymark for the entrance
to that station. I asked the mate, who once spent a winter there,
whether the missionaries or the Eskimoes could see us from the heights
near it. He replied that there was no doubt of it, but that he had
looked out in this direction from those hills, where no drop of water
was visible, nothing but an illimitable plain of ice stretching far
beyond where we are now sailing.
_Sunday, 9th._--Safe at Ramah, thank God, and not out in the fog,
which now envelopes sea and land. The last two days have been a trial
of patience. We have seen the entrance to this Nullatatok Bay all the
time, and longed to reach the desired haven, yet have not been able,
owing to calms and contrary currents. This Labrador coast becomes ever
bolder and grander as one sails northward. Here the snowy mountains
are quite Alpine in appearance. This morning the thick mist hides all
but the base of these magnificent hills, but the enormous rocky
masses, rising so quickly from the water's edge into the heights
veiled from us, give some idea of their grandeur. Our captain is,
indeed, well acquainted with their aspect or he would not have
ventured to enter this bay under such circumstances.
"RAMARSUK" (NEAT LITTLE RAMAH).
[Illustration]
Missionaries all over the world are perhaps too fond of multiplying
Scripture names of their stations. In our own fields we have already
three Bethanys and three Bethesdas. We should have had three Ramahs
too, had not the natives of Australia themselves greatly improved the
appellation of theirs by adding to it a syllable meaning "home" or
mother's place. It seemed so homelike to the Christian Aborigines, who
moved thither from Ebenezer, the older station, that they at once
called it Ramahyuck (Ramah, our home). Perhaps as the Ramah on the
Moskito Coast is also known as Ramah Key, the northern station in
Labrador, founded in 1871 to mark the cenutry of that mission, should
abide plain, simple "Ramah," otherwise the above combination would, I
understand, have suited the genius of the language, and its
significance. "Neat little Ramah" certainly expresses the character of
the lonely missionary settlement.
The village, if one may dignify this small group of human dwellings by
that name, stands on a little plain evidently won by degrees from the
sea for the successive beaches can be traced. The mission premises,
the old house, the new house, and the church with its little belfry,
are one continuous building facing the bay southward, and exactly one
hundred feet in length. Behind are the store buildings, and the low
turf huts of the natives stretch westward along the strand. They are
so like grassy mounds, that from any distance one would ask, "But
where do the Eskimoes live?"
The missionary dwelling is primitive enough, even as enlarged. During
our brief stay here, I have the honour of occupying the original
house, built about twenty years ago. It is but a room divided by a
curtain, but it served the first missionary couple here as
dwelling-room, bedroom, church, and everything else. What a grand view
there is from the window over the deep land-locked bay, in which the
"Harmony" is lying at the only available anchorage. No one would guess
that it would take more than half-an-hour to row across the smooth
water, or in winter to walk over its frozen surface to the opposite
shore, where, as on this side, precipitous bluffs rise almost from the
water's edge. All nature around is on a grand scale, and those
snow-clad mountains, which look over the shoulders of the nearer
cliffs, are quite Alpine in effect. Climb to the dizzy heights, which
tower threateningly six or seven hundred feet above the station and
you find you are not half way to the summit of the nearest hill. It
must, indeed, be a magnificent view from thence towards the great
mountains in the interior, whose everlasting snows cover long ridges
at least five or six thousand feet in height. Seawards, the Ramah
Hill, a remarkable perpendicular rock, surmounts the nearer cliffs. It
looks as if, standing on the crag, one could drop a stone into the
water at its base, 1000 feet below.
All this is grand, but grander still is the quiet, unconscious
devotion of the worthy missionary pair, who live in this lonely bay,
tending the little Christian congregation already gathered, and
seeking the salvation of the heathen Eskimoes to the north. Of these
there are perhaps sixty or seventy dwelling between Ramah and Cape
Chudley; the northern point of Labrador. I am heartily glad Mr. and
Mrs. Schulze have now a helper in Mr. Eckhardt, and trust the little
missionary band will have increasing joy in souls won for the Lord.
[Illustration: RAMAH.]
It will be remembered that the fourth morning after leaving Okak we
entered Nullatatok Bay through a thick mist. Beautiful days followed,
showing the Ramah scenery to advantage, but the weather was rather
wintry. Snow fell once or twice, though not in sufficient quantities
to lie, and one morning we had ice on the bay. Yet at midday the sun
was quite hot. The arrival of the "Harmony" at Ramah on Sunday
(September 9th, 1888), interfered with the usual morning worship. We
passengers came ashore for the afternoon service, Mr. Schulze read the
Litany and then Mr. Dam addressed the congregation in Eskimo,
centreing nearly all the black eyes in eager attention to the Word
preached. The chapel being small, the people were rather near to the
benches occupied by the missionary brethren and sisters, and this
proximity was evident to the organs of smell. Several being away at
their fishing places, there were only about a dozen men and boys and
rather more women and girls with an extra sprinkling of lively and
healthy-looking babies. Most were characterized by an air of
independence amusingly illustrated at the close by the oldest man,
who asked aloud when the visitor from London was going to speak to
them.
[Illustration: TENTS AT RAMAH.]
And what of the spiritual life of this little congregation? In reply I
will give neither my own impressions, nor the missionary's testimony
to his flock, apt sometimes to be influenced by his estimate of what
they should be. I will call in a casual witness. Last year Eugenia, a
Christian Eskimo from Hopedale, visited all the congregations,
travelling to and fro by dog-sledge with the post-sledges. She
remarked to her missionary: "The Ramah and Okak people, those are the
best in the country. At Ramah I was quite shamed by their desire after
truth. They said, 'You know these things; teach us, we are so
stupid.'"