but in vain; the men were unable to tow us in. We landed for a few
minutes, and shot a Hermit Thrush, but the appearance of a breeze
brought us back, and we attempted to put to sea. Our position now
became rather dangerous, as we were drawn by the current nearly upon
the rocks; but the wind rose at last, and we cleared for sea. At three
o'clock it became suddenly so foggy that we could not see the
bowsprit. The night was spent in direful apprehensions of ill luck; at
midnight a smart squall decided in our favor, and when day broke on
the morning of June 8 the wind was from the northeast, blowing fresh,
and we were dancing on the waters, all shockingly sea-sick, crossing
that worst of all dreadful bays, the Bay of Fundy. We passed between
the Seal Islands and the Mud Islands; in the latter _Procellaria
wilsonii_, the Stormy Petrel, breeds abundantly; their nests are dug
out of the sand in an oblique direction to the depth of two, or two
and a half feet. At the bottom of these holes, and on the sand, the
birds deposit their pure white eggs. The holes are perforated, not in
the banks like the Bank Swallow, but are like rat holes over the whole
of the islands. On Seal Islands _Larus argentatus_, the Herring Gull,
breeds as abundantly as on Grand Menan, but altogether _on trees_. As
we passed Cape Sable, so called on account of its being truly a
sand-point of some caved-in elevation, we saw a wrecked ship with many
small crafts about it. I saw there _Uria troile_, the Foolish
Guillemot, and some Gannets. The sea was dreadful, and scarcely one of
us was able to eat or drink this day. We came up with the schooner
"Caledonia," from Boston for Labrador; her captain wished to keep in
our company, and we were pretty much together all night and also on
Sunday.
_June 9._ We now had a splendid breeze, but a horrid sea, and were
scarce able to keep our feet, or sleep. The "Caledonia" was very near
to us for some time, but when the breeze increased to a gale, and both
vessels had to reef, we showed ourselves superior in point of sailing.
So good was our run that on the next morning, June 10, we found
ourselves not more than thirty miles from Cape Canseau, ordinarily
called Cape Cancer. The wind was so fair for proceeding directly to
Labrador that our captain spoke of doing so, provided it suited my
views; but, anxious as I am not to suffer any opportunity to escape of
doing all I can to fulfil my engagements, I desired that we should
pass through what is called "The Gut of Canseau," and we came into the
harbor of that name[173] at three of the afternoon. Here we found
twenty vessels, all bound to Labrador, and, of course, all fishermen.
We had been in view of the southeastern coast of Nova Scotia all day,
a dreary, poor, and inhospitable-looking country. As we dropped our
anchor we had a snowfall, and the sky had an appearance such as I
never before recollect having seen. Going on shore we found not a tree
in blossom, though the low plants near the ground were all in bloom; I
saw azaleas, white and blue violets, etc., and in some situations the
grass really looked well. The Robins were in full song; one nest of
that bird was found; the White-throated Sparrow and Savannah Finch
were also in full song. The _Fringilla nivalis_[174] was seen, and we
were told that _Tetrao canadensis_[175] was very abundant, but saw
none. About a dozen houses form this settlement; there was no Custom
House officer, and not an individual who could give an answer of any
value to our many questions. We returned on board and supped on a fine
codfish. The remainder of our day was spent in catching lobsters, of
which we procured forty. They were secured simply by striking them in
shallow water with a gaff-hook. It snowed and rained at intervals, and
to my surprise we did not observe a single seabird.
_June 11._ _Larus marinus_ (the Great Black-backed Gull) is so
superior both in strength and courage to Fulmars, _Lestris_, or even
Gannets, to say nothing of Gulls of all sorts, that at its approach
they all give way, and until it has quite satiated itself, none
venture to approach the precious morsel on which it is feeding. In
this respect, it is as the Eagle to the Vultures or Carrion Crows. I
omitted saying that last night, before we retired to rest, after much
cold, snow, rain, and hail, the frogs were piping in all the pools on
the shore, and we all could hear them clearly, from the deck of the
"Ripley." The weather to-day is beautiful, the wind fair, and when I
reached the deck at four A. M. we were under way in the wake of the
whole of the fleet which last evening graced the Harbor of Canseau,
but which now gave life to the grand bay across which all were gliding
under easy pressure of sail. The land locked us in, the water was
smooth, the sky pure, and the thermometer was only 46 deg., quite cold;
indeed, it was more grateful to see the sunshine whilst on deck this
morning, and to feel its warmth, than I can recollect before at this
season. After sailing for twenty-one miles, and passing one after
another every vessel of the fleet, we entered the Gut of Canseau, so
named by the Spanish on account of the innumerable Wild Geese which,
in years long past and forgotten, resorted to this famed passage. The
land rises on each side in the form of an amphitheatre, and on the
Nova Scotia side, to a considerable height. Many _appearances_ of
dwellings exist, but the country is too poor for comfort; the timber
is small, and the land, very stony. Here and there a small patch of
ploughed land, planted, or to be planted, with potatoes, was all we
could see evincing cultivation. Near one house we saw a few
apple-trees, yet without leaves. The general appearance of this
passage reminded me of some parts of the Hudson River, and accompanied
as we were by thirty smaller vessels, the time passed agreeably.
Vegetation about as forward as at Eastport; saw a Chimney Swallow,
heard some Blue Jays, saw some Indians in a bark canoe, passed Cape
Porcupine, a high, rounding hill, and Cape George, after which we
entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence. From this place, on the 20th of May
last year, the sea was a complete sheet of ice as far as a spy-glass
could inform. As we advanced, running parallel with the western coast
of Cape Breton Island, the country looked well, at the distance we
were from it; the large, undulating hills were scattered with many
hamlets, and here and there a bit of cultivated land was seen. It
being calm when we reached Jestico Island, distant from Cape Breton
about three miles, we left the vessel and made for it. On landing we
found it covered with well grown grass sprinkled everywhere with the
blossoms of the wild strawberry; the sun shone bright, and the weather
was quite pleasant. Robins, Savannah Finches, Song Sparrows, Tawny
Thrushes, and the American Redstart were found. The Spotted
Sand-piper, _Totanus macularius_, was breeding in the grass, and flew
slowly with the common tremor of their wings, uttering their
"wheet-wheet-wheet" note, to invite me to follow them. A Raven had a
nest and three young in it, one standing near it, the old birds not
seen. _Uria troile_[176] and _U. grylle_[177] were breeding in the
rocks, and John saw several _Ardea herodias_[178] flying in pairs,
also a pair of Red-breasted Mergansers that had glutted themselves
with fish so that they were obliged to disgorge before they could fly
off. Amongst the plants the wild gooseberry, nearly the size of a
green pea, was plentiful, and the black currant, I think of a
different species from the one found in Maine. The wind rose and we
returned on board. John and the sailors almost killed a Seal with
their oars.
_June 12._ At four this morning we were in sight of the Magdalene
Islands, or, as they are called on the chart, Amherst Islands; they
appeared to be distant about twenty miles. The weather was dull and
quite calm, and I thought the prospect of reaching these isles this
day very doubtful, and returned to my berth sadly disappointed. After
breakfast a thick fog covered the horizon on our bow, the islands
disappeared from sight, and the wind rose sluggishly, and dead ahead.
Several brigs and ships loaded with lumber out from Miramichi came
near us, beating their way towards the Atlantic. We are still in a
great degree land-locked by Cape Breton Island, the highlands of which
look dreary and forbidding; it is now nine A. M., and we are at anchor
in four fathoms of water, and within a quarter of a mile of an island,
one of the general group; for our pilot, who has been here for ten
successive years, informs us that all these islands are connected by
dry sand-bars, without any other ship channel between them than the
one which we have taken, and which is called Entree Bay, formed by
Entree Island and a long, sandy, projecting reef connected with the
main island. This latter measures forty-eight miles in length, by an
average of about three in breadth; Entree Island contains about
fifteen hundred acres of land, such as it is, of a red, rough, sandy
formation, the northwest side constantly falling into the sea, and
exhibiting a very interesting sight. Guillemots were seen seated
upright along the projecting shelvings in regular order, resembling so
many sentinels on the look-out. Many Gannets also were seen about the
extreme point of this island. On Amherst Island we saw many houses, a
small church, and on the highest land a large cross, indicating the
Catholic tendency of the inhabitants. Several small schooners lay in
the little harbor called Pleasant Bay, and we intend to pay them an
early visit to-morrow. The wind is so cold that it feels to us all
like the middle of December at Boston.
_Magdalene Islands, June 13._ This day week we were at Eastport, and I
am sure not one of our party thought of being here this day. At four
this morning we were seated at breakfast around our great
drawing-table; the thermometer was at 44 deg.; we blew our fingers and
drank our coffee, feeling as if in the very heart of winter, and when
we landed I felt so chilled that it would have been quite out of the
question to use my hands for any delicate work. We landed between two
great bluffs, that looked down upon us with apparent anger, the resort
of many a Black Guillemot and noble Raven, and following a tortuous
path, suddenly came plump upon one of God's best finished jewels, a
woman. She saw us first, for women are always keenest in sight and
sympathy, in perseverance and patience, in fortitude, and love, and
sorrow, and faith, and, for aught I know, much more. At the instant
that my eyes espied her, she was in full run towards her cottage,
holding to her bosom a fine babe, simply covered with a very short
shirt, the very appearance of which set me shivering. The woman was
dressed in coarse French homespun, a close white cotton cap which
entirely surrounded her face tied under her chin, and I thought her
the wildest-looking woman, both in form and face, I had seen for many
a day. At a venture, I addressed her in French, and it answered well,
for she responded in a wonderful jargon, about one third of which I
understood, and abandoned the rest to a better linguist, should one
ever come to the island. She was a plain, good woman, I doubt not, and
the wife of an industrious fisherman. We walked through the woods, and
followed the _road_ to the church. Who would have thought that on
these wild islands, among these impoverished people, we should have
found a church; that we should have been suddenly confronted with a
handsome, youthful, vigorous, black-haired, black-bearded fellow, in a
soutane as black as the Raven's wedding-dress, and with a heart as
light as a bird on the wing? Yet we met with both church and priest,
and our ears were saluted by the sound of a bell which measures one
foot by nine and a half inches in diameter, and weighs thirty pounds;
and this bell may be heard a full quarter of a mile. It is a festival
day, _La Petite Fete de Dieu_. The chapel was illuminated at six
o'clock, and the inhabitants, even from a distance, passed in; among
them were many old women, who, staff in hand, had trudged along the
country road. Their backs were bent by age and toil, their eyes dimmed
by time; they crossed their hands upon their breasts, and knelt before
the sacred images in the church with so much simplicity and apparent
truth of heart that I could not help exclaiming, "This is indeed
religion!" The priest, Pere Brunet, is originally from Quebec. These
islands belong, or are attached, to Lower Canada; he, however, is
under the orders of the Bishop of Halifax. He is a shrewd-looking
fellow, and, if I mistake not, has a dash of the devil in him. He told
me there were no reptiles on the island, but this was an error; for,
while rambling about, Tom Lincoln, Ingalls, and John saw a snake, and
I heard Frogs a-piping. He also told me that Black and Red Foxes, and
the changeable Hare, with Rats lately imported, were the only
quadrupeds to be found, except cows, horses, and mules, of which some
had been brought over many years ago, and which had multiplied, but to
no great extent. The land, he assured us, was poor in every
respect,--soil, woods, game; that the Seal fisheries had been less
productive these last years than formerly. On these islands, about a
dozen in number, live one hundred and sixty families, all of whom make
their livelihood by the Cod, Herring, and Mackerel fisheries. One or
two vessels from Quebec come yearly to collect this produce of the
ocean. Not a bird to be found larger than a Robin, but certainly
thousands of those. Pere Brunet said he lived the life of a recluse,
and invited us to accompany him to the house where he boarded, and
take a glass of good French wine. During our ramble on the island we
found the temperature quite agreeable; indeed, in some situations the
sun was pleasant and warm. Strawberry blossoms were under our feet at
every step, and here and there the grass looked well. I was surprised
to find the woods (by woods I mean land covered with any sort of
trees, from the noblest magnolia down to dwarf cedars) rich in
Warblers, Thrushes, Finches, Buntings, etc. The Fox-tailed Sparrow
breeds here, the Siskin also. The Hermit and Tawny Thrushes crossed
our path every few yards, the Black-capped Warbler flashed over the
pools, the Winter Wren abounded everywhere. Among the water-birds we
found the Great Tern (_Sterna hirundo_) very abundant, and shot four
of them on the sand-ridges. The Piping Plover breeds here--shot two
males and one female; so plaintive is the note of this interesting
species that I feel great aversion to killing them. These birds
certainly are the swiftest of foot of any water-birds which I know, of
their size. We found many land-snails, and collected some fine
specimens of gypsum. This afternoon, being informed that across the
bay where we are anchored we might, perhaps, purchase some Black Fox
skins, we went there, and found Messieurs Muncey keen fellows; they
asked L5 for Black Fox and $1.50 for Red. No purchase on our part.
Being told that Geese, Brents, Mergansers, etc., breed eighteen miles
from here, at the eastern extremity of these islands, we go off there
to-morrow in boats. Saw Bank Swallows and House Swallows. The woods
altogether small evergreens, extremely scrubby, almost impenetrable,
and swampy beneath. At seven this evening the thermometer is at 52 deg.
This morning it was 44 deg. After our return to the "Ripley," our
captain, John, Tom Lincoln, and Coolidge went off to the cliffs
opposite our anchorage, in search of Black Guillemots' eggs. This was
found to be quite an undertaking; these birds, instead of having to
_jump_ or _hop_ from one place to another on the rocks, to find a spot
suitable to deposit their spotted egg, as has been stated, are on the
contrary excellent walkers, at least upon the rocks, and they can fly
from the water to the very entrance of the holes in the fissures,
where the egg is laid. Sometimes this egg is deposited not more than
eight or ten feet above high-water mark, at other times the fissure in
the rock which has been chosen stands at an elevation of a hundred
feet or more. The egg is laid on the bare rock without any
preparation, but when the formation is sandy, a certain scoop is
indicated on the surface. In one instance, I found two feathers with
the egg; this egg is about the size of a hen's, and looks
extravagantly large, splashed with black or deep umber, apparently at
random, the markings larger and more frequent towards the great end.
At the barking of a dog from any place where these birds breed, they
immediately fly towards the animal, and will pass within a few feet of
the observer, as if in defiance. At other times they leave the nest
and fall in the water, diving to an extraordinary distance before they
rise again. John shot a Gannet on the wing; the flesh was black and
unpleasant. The Piping Plover, when missed by the shot, rises almost
perpendicularly, and passes sometimes out of sight; this is, I am
convinced by the many opportunities I have had to witness the
occurrence, a habit of the species. These islands are well watered by
large springs, and rivulets intersect the country in many directions.
We saw large flocks of Velvet Ducks feeding close to the shores; these
did not appear to be in pairs. The Gannet dives quite under the water
after its prey, and when empty of food rises easily off the water.