_THE TRUCK SYSTEM_
Cod alone is fish in Labrador diction. Cod is the coin of the realm.
Money is scarcely known, and no other medium of exchange is used by the
people, whose _raison d’être_ almost is cod. All live on goods advanced
on credit, to be paid for by their catch of cod. This truck system, is
the next of kin to the old feudal system, and has long been extinct in
most civilized countries. It seems the early treatment of Newfoundland
by England is partly responsible for the rise of this baneful system,
which it is now difficult to remove. The struggling fisherman knows it
is a state of bondage, but cannot get out of it; the merchant knows its
disadvantages outweigh its profits; while the colony must recognise
that it is alone the cause of so many of its younger and more energetic
men leaving the country as soon as they can see their way to do so—for
no race loves its country with more patriotic affection than do
Newfoundlanders.
Up to the end of the eighteenth century no one was allowed to remain
in Newfoundland after the fishing season, each captain of a fishing
vessel being held responsible, under heavy penalty, to bring back all
his crew to England; while if any one did desert and remain behind to
be near the fishing grounds, and to reap the harvest of the sea for his
own benefit, his stage, and even house and goods, might be appropriated
by the first fishing captain out next year. This made it only possible
for fishermen to go out when some merchant capitalist would finance the
voyage, who, in return, repaid himself out of the fish caught.
Now many vessels were sent out, and though the catch of fish by any
individual vessel was uncertain—for fish set into one place one
year and another the next—the whole catch would generally repay the
merchant amply. But as in some cases all vessels of one merchant might
do badly, a large price was charged on goods advanced as a further
security for the merchant, that in any case he might be quite sure
to recoup himself for his outlay. And lastly, though there might be
no immediate return in fish or cash, yet the fishermen at once began
to accumulate a large nominal debt; and though possibly, and even
probably, they would never be able to liquidate this, yet the fact of
their being indebted to any particular merchant insured their fishing
for him year after year. Thus, perhaps, the best issue for the merchant
at settling time seemed in every case to be a debt by each man, but
not large enough to make the fisherman despair and so fish badly. Thus
the successful fisherman had to pay for his unsuccessful brother’s
deficits. The fishermen soon found this out, and were not only soured
against their suppliers, but lost the incentive to make any effort
to discharge their whole debts. The merchant now found it difficult
to make ends meet through bad debts, and was led to buy in the fish
himself, insisting on the fishermen not paying in cash, but fish.
Each year the commercial body fixed its own price for fish, punished
those of their men who sold the fish for cash if they could do so, and
themselves resold the fish in foreign markets, gaining a second profit
when possible. Thus large nominal debts arose, which in hundreds of
cases the men could never hope to liquidate. The spirit of pauperism
was directly fostered, the men becoming absolutely dependent on the
charity of their merchants, and in many cases from year to year never
knowing how much they really owed.
This system persists to-day, as an evil heirloom, dragging down both
merchant and fisherman. To-morrow’s labour is ever mortgaged ahead for
food to-day. At last a time comes when no longer any hope of return
from certain men can be expected. The advances are suddenly cut off,
and these men, deprived of their usual source of supply, fall back on
government relief, till to-day over one-third and nearly half of the
whole revenue of the country is spent in pauper relief. The recipients
are frequently able-bodied men, and yet they have no shame in accepting
it, looking on the government as an independent source of wealth,
and calling their annual six to twenty-four dollars “a government
appointment.”
Thus the system has played into the hands of idleness and dishonesty
also; for though all a man’s catch is nominally his merchant’s, he
is tempted to keep some part back and sell it elsewhere, that he may
have some ready money to spend when he returns. Thus one man who has
already more fish than would pay his own debt, will accept fish from
another heavily in debt, and turn it in to his merchant as his own,
handing over afterwards the money or goods he obtained in return to
his friend, and perhaps deducting a shilling a quintal for the risk
involved. A far more common way is to take and sell your fish right
away to another firm. All are generally glad to get fish anyhow; for
not only is it a loss to send away a ship without a full freight, but
also there is a great race to get vessels away first each year, as
the first in the market will realize a higher price for their cargo
throughout. To prevent this the various firms agreed at one time not
to buy fish from another merchant’s planters. But this fell through,
and now only a careful watch is kept on how much fish each man has as
the season progresses, and the amount compared with what he delivers
to his merchant. Any man caught alienating much fish would not receive
any advance in future, though most firms are anxious to get all the men
they can.
The advances are made in May or early June. When the fish has been put
on board the vessels for market in October, notes of credit are sent to
the merchants thus:—
Received from......., .... qlts. ... qrs. ... lbs. of Labrador fish.
To Messrs. ........., qlts. ... qrs. ... lbs. of Merchantable fish.
Per Agent.......
Then, as soon as the total catch can be roughly estimated, the Chamber
of Commerce meet in St. Johns and decide what price they will give for
fish. The credit notes are at once cashable at that price, cargoes
being all insured. Each firm then credits its planters and men with
their catch at that price, and a balance is struck between the total
and the amount of each one’s advance in May. If a surplus remains, it
goes to provide the fisherman with his winter’s diet. Now a good catch
for a fisherman is 100 quintals of dry fish, or 300 quintals of green.
On an average 100 fish go to the quintal, that is, each man must
catch 30,000 fish. Each quintal is worth in St. Johns from 2-1/2 to 3
dollars, so that 275 dollars is a good season, less 30 dollars for salt
245 dollars, or about £50. It must be remembered many will only average
20 quintals some years, or 50 dollars, not £50. The average catch per
head for “bank” fishermen last year was 47-1/2 quintals. How often a
man will be dependent, therefore, on charity for a supply of food for
himself and his family during the winter becomes apparent.
Often the winter’s diet that can be laid in is all too small for
the needs of the family; and before the breaking up of the ice once
more allows cod-fishing to commence, and the planters to return
from Newfoundland, the poor Livyeres are reduced to living on “the
landwash.” “A short feast and a long famine” is a coast epigram.
Clothing is perhaps most difficult to find money for, and is apt to
become so scanty that the settler, for lack of proper protection from
the weather, cannot prosecute his fishing or hunting, especially where
the temperature falls to 50°, or even more, below zero. I met one
poor fellow who years before had missed his way home at night and had
had to sleep out in the open. He had lost both feet from frost-bite.
One can realize the need for woollen clothing. When near Winnipeg, in
North Manitoba, I saw a young Englishman, who had been caught out in
a blizzard, and had lost both hands and both feet at the wrists and
ankles from frost-bite. But a still more vicious circle is established
when, to procure food for this winter, a settler has to part with his
means of “killing a voyage” next summer. The following is a case in
point as related to me on the spot:—
Some three years ago, at Big Bight, a Mr. Olliver, with his wife and
five children, had fallen into great poverty. At last in spring, when
all his food was exhausted, he set out, taking his last possessions,
an old Jack plane and a trout net, with him. Having no dogs, he had
to travel afoot over the ice and snow. At last he came to the house
of the best-off settler about, Mr. Tosten Anderson, a Norwegian, and
a splendid fellow. When asked for food, Mr. Anderson, showing all the
flour he had, said, “To part with any more than I have done, means we
must all starve together.” This was thirty to forty miles from his own
home. He then went on twelve miles to a Mr. James Thomas, whose reply
was just the same. Two days later he reached Richard Blomfield’s house
on his way back. Here he met the same reply again. No more was heard
till three days later, when Blomfield was summoned to the Ollivers’
house. On the middle of the floor, his coat off and his gun by his
side, lay Mr. Olliver, shot through the head. In a heap in one corner
lay the three youngest children, scarcely dead from blows from an
axe lying near them. Apparently determined to spare those who might
provide for themselves, he had sent out first his wife and eldest
daughter to search for food, and his eldest boy to search for birds.
Mr. Blomfield told me he supposed that the cries of the hungry children
proved too much for the poor father. Truly Virginius of old acted in
much the same way.
This, of course, is an extreme case, and in order to arrive at
a fair conclusion, we took, as far as possible, a census of the
Livyeres—noting the numbers and ages of children—the proportion that
could read and write, and the number each had of gallons of molasses,
barrels of flour or pork, pounds of tea, and tobacco, which, alas,
nearly all use, however poor and unable to afford luxuries. That
a very large proportion had a quite insufficient quantity of food
became beyond question. It must be remembered it is not a question of
how much they can buy, but how much a supplier is willing to give to
people already heavily indebted to him, only a few being independent
enough to pay down for what they take. Government aid, sea birds,
seals, trout, willow grouse, and rabbits, _i.e._ arctic hares, are the
supplemental sources available. The Newfoundlanders are too often only
little better off than Labradormen, and I have many piteous accounts
of parents themselves suffering chronic starvation in order to supply
their little ones with the necessities of life. Soon, it is sincerely
to be hoped, the interior of Newfoundland will be opened up. All look
to the new railway to turn the attention of many to the cultivation of
the land, which will at least help to render existence more easy. It
is reasonable to hope also that the new sealing laws, the new fishery
restrictions, and Mr. Adolph Neilsen’s magnificent work at the fish
hatchery and lobster incubation, are the presages of happier times. But
the people can never be free, industrious, and contented, until the
truck system is dead and buried.[14]
[Footnote 14: December, 1894. And now the long impending crash has
come—both the banks of Newfoundland have failed, and ten out of twelve
merchants’ firms have had to suspend payment, while the masses of the
population are face to face with absolute starvation. The Truck System
has entailed ruin on all concerned in it, and has brought the country
to the verge of bankruptcy. There are not few, however, who see in
these terrible events the promise of better things. A better system
of trade must arise, a better relation between labour and capital, a
better era for this oldest of England’s colonies. “Whom the Lord loveth
He chasteneth.” God grant it may be so in this case.]
[Illustration: A visit from Eskimo.]