Transcriber’s Note
Page 23—the word ‘redpoles’ have been left as originally spelt.
Page 62—presbyterian changed to Presbyterian.
The Footnotes have been changed to a numeric order and placed at
the end of paragraphs they relate to.
The book cover is labelled - “Labrador and its people, Grenfell”,
whereas the book is officially entitled, “Vikings of to-day, or
life and medical work among the fishermen of Labrador.”
VIKINGS OF TO-DAY
[Illustration: S.S. PRINCESS MAY.]
VIKINGS OF TO-DAY
OR LIFE AND MEDICAL WORK
AMONG THE
FISHERMEN OF LABRADOR
BY
WILFRED T. GRENFELL, M.R.C.S.E., L.R.C.P.
_Holder of the Board of Trade Certificate of Competency
as Master Mariner_
ILLUSTRATED FROM
ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHS
[Illustration]
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO
_Publishers of Evangelical Literature_
Dedicated
BY KIND PERMISSION TO
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF YORK,
_whose practical and gracious interest in the welfare of
these far-off “Toilers of the Deep” has served in
no small way to assist this enterprise, and to
fire with loyal affections the hearts of
England’s sons across the sea_.
PREFACE
BY FREDERICK TREVES, F.R.C.S.,
_Surgeon to the London Hospital. Examiner in Surgery at the University
of Cambridge. Chairman of the Hospital Committee of the Mission to Deep
Sea Fishermen._
At the present time—near to the close of the nineteenth century—we
are being constantly reminded, with somewhat unpleasant persistence,
that the human race is degenerating and that the changes of decay are
most marked among the most civilised people. It is among the young
men especially that these unwelcome signs of the times are assumed to
be the more noticeable. It is claimed that the splendid physique and
the heroic courage of the British race are both deteriorating, and
that those who seek for the time of noble deeds and sturdy hearts must
turn back to the days of Elizabeth—to the stirring times of Drake and
Raleigh.
There is said to be no longer a field for that pluck and daring, or for
that determination and persistency, which at one period made the name
of the British famous throughout the world.
It would be idle, in this place, to inquire into the substance of these
moanings and regrets, and it would be reasonable perhaps to allow
that there may be some real or apparent element of truth in these
lamentations over the man of the present.
Be this as it may, it will be agreeable to those who are most concerned
in these forebodings to turn to the record contained in this volume,
while those who view with some disgust the fashionable youth of the
day, with his many effeminacies and affectations, will find in the
pages which follow some wholesome relief to their distaste.
Dr. Grenfell’s narrative will take the reader away from the heated,
unnatural and debilitating atmosphere of the modern city, from the
enervated crowd, from the pampered, self-indulgent colonies of men and
women who make up fashionable society, and will carry him to a lonely
land where all conventionalities vanish, and where man is brought into
contact with the simplest elements of life and with the rudimentary
problems of how to avoid starvation and ward off death from cold.
The present volume deals with a land of desolation, with a country
hard, relentless, unsympathetic and cruel, where, among fogs and
icebergs, a handful of determined men are trying to hold their own
against hostile surroundings and to earn a living in defiance of dreary
odds.
When the Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen resolved to send an expedition
to Labrador, it was evident that the man to go with it was Grenfell.
He was well known both at Oxford and in London as a hardy athlete; he
was a skilled and able surgeon; he was profoundly interested in Mission
work; and the sea had for him that magical attraction which a few
centuries ago emptied nearly every little cove and fishing hamlet in
Cornwall and Devon of its heartiest men, and carried them over the high
seas to the ends of the earth.
Grenfell went, and the good work of the Mission was established on the
Labrador. It was no little matter to bring into the hard and desperate
life of the Labrador fishermen a touch of kindly and practical sympathy
from the old country. It was no little matter to travel for many
hundreds of miles along a grim, inhospitable coast, where buoys and
beacons are unknown and where there is scarcely a bay or island which
has not been the scene of some lonely disaster.
It will be seen from this book that the race of Vikings is not
yet extinct, on the one hand, and that on the other the spirit of
enterprise and daring is not yet lost to the English people, and that
the modern rover of the sea differs from his predecessor in little save
the motive of his expedition.
Those who know how to value the comforts of an English home, and who
can appreciate the quiet content and the beauty of an English village,
will be induced by this book to feel no little sympathy for those whose
lives are cast among the dreary islands and deserted bays of Labrador.
FREDERICK TREVES.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
This book is intended to give a general account of the country and
people of Labrador, and to summarize the efforts made by the council
of the Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen, during the past three years,
to brighten the lives of the many brave toilers of the sea on that
desolate coast.
I have avoided the use of scientific terms, and have ventured to quote
from some of the few books on the subject without the permission of the
authors. Amongst these are Dr. Nansen’s _Eskimo Life_, Mr. Packard’s
_The Labrador Coast_, Dr. Harvey’s _Newfoundland, the Oldest British
Colony_, Crantz’s _Explorations in Greenland_, Hinde’s _Explorations in
Labrador_, Cartwright’s _Journals_, Rev. J. Moreton’s _Life and Work in
Newfoundland_.
The universal kindness and hospitality extended to the Mission Staff in
Labrador, Newfoundland and Canada, and the almost unlimited scope for
work, have made these three years, three of the most enjoyable in our
lives.
To his Excellency the Governor of Newfoundland Sir Terence O’Brien,
K.C.M.G., Chairman of the St. Johns Committee, among many others, our
warmest thanks are due.
The illustrations in this volume are from photographs taken on “Barnet
Plates” kindly presented to the Society by Messrs. Elliot & Fry.
WILFRED T. GRENFELL.
_March, 1893._
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
THE COUNTRY 1
CHAPTER II.
NATURAL FEATURES 10
CHAPTER III.
OF THE BIRDS AND LARGER FISHES 17
CHAPTER IV.
OF THE FUR-BEARING ANIMALS 28
CHAPTER V.
WE GO TO LABRADOR AND START WORK 40
CHAPTER VI.
DO PEOPLE LIVE IN LABRADOR? 50
CHAPTER VII.
JUST HOW FISH ARE CAUGHT 66
CHAPTER VIII.
THE TRUCK SYSTEM 76
CHAPTER IX.
RESULTS OF THE FIRST VISIT 85
CHAPTER X.
OUR SECOND SEASON 102
CHAPTER XI.
OUR VOYAGE CONTINUED 114
CHAPTER XII.
CONCLUSION OF SECOND VOYAGE 131
CHAPTER XIII.
ON DOGS AND DIFFICULTIES 143
CHAPTER XIV.
ON SEALS AND SEALERS 157
CHAPTER XV.
ON THE ESQUIMAUX 174
CHAPTER XVI.
THE DEEDS OF HEROES 194
CHAPTER XVII.
WE APPEAL FOR CANADIAN SYMPATHY 202
APPENDICES.
_A._ SOME MEDICAL STATISTICS 213
_B._ SPIRITUAL AGENCIES IN LABRADOR 218
_C._ TESTIMONIES TO THE WORK 221
_D._ POVERTY OF THE PEOPLE 235
_E._ THE FISHING SCHOONERS 238
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
S.S. _PRINCESS MAY_ _Frontispiece_
ENTRANCE TO ST. JOHNS HARBOUR 5
A SHOAL OF CAPLIN JUMPING OUT ON TO THE BEACH 10
ICEBERG IN AUGUST OFF TUB HARBOUR 17
MY FIRST CARIBOU AND GUIDE 21
ESKIMO BOYS 28
A BEAVER 33
THE ALBERT IN BATEAUX HARBOUR 45
HUDSON BAY COMPANY’S POST AT RIGOLETTE 50
FIELDS OF FISH DRYING IN THE HARBOUR 53
BOAT RETURNING FROM THE TRAP 66
SNUG HARBOUR 69
CARTWRIGHT STAFF 76
A VISIT FROM ESKIMO 85
MORAVIAN STATION, HOPEDALE 89
THE _PRINCESS MAY_ IN HAMILTON INLET 102
INTERIOR OF MALE WARD, INDIAN HARBOUR 105
A NEWFOUNDLANDER’S HUT, LABRADOR 114
INTERIOR OF INDIAN HARBOUR HOSPITAL 117
THE S.S. _PRINCESS MAY_ IN MERCHANTMAN HARBOUR 131
AN ESKIMO FAMILY, HOPEDALE 137
TEAM OF DOGS IN HARNESS 143
ESKIMO FAMILY 151
THE S.S. _SIR DONALD_ 157
ESKIMO ON AN ISLAND NEAR OKKAK 165
ESKIMO IN REINDEER TENT, OKKAK 174
TAKEN FROM AN ESKIMO GRAVE AT LONG ISLAND 181
ESKIMO BRASS BAND 205
VIKINGS OF TO-DAY
CHAPTER I
_THE COUNTRY_
[Illustration]
It is said that a recent trial, over a dispute about the fishery of
a small natural harbour in Labrador, called Tub Harbour, had reached
its third day, when his lordship, leaning over the desk, whispered to
counsel, “Where is Labrador”? Not to be caught, however, the counsel
whispered back, “In Tub Harbour, my lord.” Geography, it seems, is a
sadly neglected science.
Such being the case, I have ventured to describe the general features
of the country in the terse, accurate, graphic, and authoritative
words of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_.
“Labrador, properly so called,” says the _Encyclopædia_, “is the
peninsular portion of North America, bounded by the Gulf of St.
Lawrence, the North Atlantic, Hudson Straits, Hudson Bay, and vaguely
defined towards the S.W. by Rupert’s River, Mistassini River, and
Bersiamits River. Its greatest length is 1,100 miles, its greatest
breadth 700 miles. The area is approximately 420,000 square miles, that
is, as large as the British Isles, France, and Austria. The coast from
Blanc Sablon, a spot 85 miles up the Straits of Belle Isle, to Cape
Chidley at the entrance to Hudson Bay straits, and all the off-lying
islands, with the country inland about 70 miles, are under the
government of Newfoundland. The rest is part of the province of Quebec,
under Canadian rule.”
Sterile and forbidding it lies among fogs and icebergs, famous only
besides for dogs and cod. “God made this country last,” says an old
navigator. “He had no other view in end than to throw together here the
refuse of His materials as of no use to mankind.”
“As a permanent abode of civilized man,” says the _Encyclopædia
Britannica_, “Labrador is, on the whole, one of the most uninviting
spots on the face of the earth. A vast tableland occupies much of the
interior. This plateau, says Professor Hind, is pre-eminently sterile,
and where the country is not burned, caribou moss covers the rocks,
with stunted spruce, birch, and aspens in the hollows and deep ravines.
The whole is strewed with an infinite number of boulders often three
and four deep. Language fails to paint the awful desolation of the
tableland of the Labrador peninsula. The Atlantic coast is the edge of
a vast solitude of rocky hills, split and blasted by frosts, and beaten
by waves. Headlands, grim and naked, tower over the waters—often
fantastic and picturesque in shape—while miles and miles of rocky
precipices or tame monotonous slopes alternate with stony valleys,
winding away among the blue hills of the interior.”
The cliffs rise from the ocean to a height of from 500 to 1,000 feet.
The watershed of the interior plateau is on an average 150 miles from
the coast, and rises considerably over 5,000 feet. Near Cape Chidley
the hills are close to the sea, rising to the height of 6,000 feet,
and the view from the sea is magnificent. A powerful current coming
from Hudson Bay, combined with the great rise and fall of tide, renders
navigation here very dangerous. A high, bare peak of syenite, inland
from Cape Harrison, and known as Mount Misery, is visible seventy-five
miles.
We are accustomed to think of Columbus as discovering America, but it
seems certain that about the year 1000, while Northman and Saxon were
struggling for pre-eminence in this England of ours, bold Vikings from
Iceland visited Labrador. In the Sagas of Erik the Red and of Thorfinn
Karlsefne, we read of a strange land they visited and called Vinland[1]
or Wineland, which most probably was Labrador.
[Footnote 1: See Hon. L. G. Power’s paper on “Vinland,” read before the
Nova Scotia Historical Society in 1887.]
Now, it is needless to say grapes do not abound in Labrador, and we
southerners should not describe it now as the “Land of Wine.” But
we must remember that Erik came from Iceland, and was also possibly
addicted to the proverbial fault of travellers. Moreover, when Erik
returned from one of his voyages he called the land he had visited
“Greenland,” not with reference to its nature, because Biarni, a
contemporary voyager, describes it as a land of “mountains and high
ice hills,” but “he called it Greenland because, quoth he, people
will be attracted thither if the land has a good name.” An amusing
incident, which I quote from Mr. Power’s paper, arose out of this. When
Thorfinn Karlsefne and Snorri were making an endeavour to colonize the
“Vinland” they most inappropriately ran short of provisions. Now it
so happened they had with them Thorhall, the hunter. “He was a large
man and strong, black and like a giant, silent and foul-mouthed in his
speech, and always egged on Erik to the worst; he was a bad Christian;
he was well acquainted with uninhabited parts. Thorhall now suddenly
disappeared. They had previously made prayers to God for food, but
it did not come so quick as they thought their necessities required.
They searched after Thorhall three days, and found him on the top
of a rock; there he lay, and looked up in the sky and gaped with both
nose and mouth, and murmured something. They asked him why he had gone
there. He said it was no business of theirs. They bade him come home
with them, and he did so. Soon after, came there a whale, and they
went thither and cut it up, and no one knew what sort of whale it
was; and when the cook dressed it, they ate it, and all became ill in
consequence. Then said Thorhall: “The red bearded was more helpful than
your Christ; this have I got now for my verses that I sung to Thor, my
protector. Seldom has he deserted me. But when they came to know this
they cast the whole whale into the sea, and resigned their case to God.
Then the weather improved, and it was possible to row out fishing, and
they were not then in want of food, for wild beasts were caught on the
land, and fish in the sea, and eggs collected on the island.” Now, when
Thorhall bore water to the ship, and drank, then sang he this song:—
“People told me when I came
Hither, all would be so fine;
The good Wineland, known to fame,
Rich in fruits and choicest wine;
Now the water pail they send
To the fountain I must bend,
Nor from out this land divine
Have I quaffed _one drop_ of wine.”
[Illustration: Entrance to St. Johns Harbour.]
And when they were ready, and hoisted sail, then chanted Thorhall—
“Let our trusty band
Haste to Fatherland;
Let our vessel brave
Plough the angry wave;
While those few who love
Wineland, here may rove,
Or, with idle toil
Fetid whales may boil,
Here on Furderstrand
Far from Fatherland.”
So that Vinland, in the year 1000, to which this voyage had been made
because “the people of Brattahliel began to talk much about it,”
saying, “a voyage thither ought to be particularly profitable by
reason of the fertility of the soil,” appears to have turned out no
better than we found Labrador in 1891. The famous log-books of George
Cartwright,[2] written about 1790, give a more reliable account of
the country, and he appears at first to have found it profitable to
make voyages thither. The animals, and not the vegetables, engaged his
attention, and he would have made a remunerative business of it had
not first pirates and then privateers despoiled him of his ships, and
outfits, and wares.
[Footnote 2: _Journals of George Cartwright._]
In Labrador now, work as he may, one man cannot keep the wolf from the
door—the Eskimo and natives of the coast, the mountaineer and hunter
Indians of the interior, and the white settlers, are alike often face
to face with starvation. The two former are rapidly dying out, while
among the latter it is only where a settler has grown-up sons to work
with him, and a good supply of stock in boats, nets, traps and guns to
help him, that he can make anything approaching to what we in England
should consider a respectable living. Even with these helps, and with
steady, hard work, and with sound health, he seldom can hope to lay up
store against times of misfortune. True in England the poor often see
hard times, and have to face occasionally poverty and hunger. Moreover,
as Richard Whitbourne, that plucky British sea-dog, says,[3] “It hath
beene in some winters so hard frozen, aboue London bridge near the
court, that the tenderest faire ladies and gentlewomen that are in any
part of the world, who have beheld it, and great numbers of people,
have there sported on the ice many dayes, and have felt it colder
there, than men doe here, that live in Newfoundland.” Yet we must take
into consideration that here absolute want is the exception, there the
rule.
[Footnote 3: Richard Whitbourne.]