The Audubon Reader (65 page)

My evening has been enlivened by the two Italians from the
Wizard
who have been singing many songs to the accompaniment of John’s violin.

August 11. At sea, Gulf of St. Lawrence
. We are now, seven of the evening, fully fifty miles from the coast of
Labrador. We left our harbor at eleven o’clock with a fair breeze; the storm of last night had died away and everything looked promising. The boats were sent ashore for a supply of fresh water; John and Coolidge went after Curlews; the rest of the crew, assisted by that of the
Wizard
, raised the anchors, and all was soon in readiness. The bottom of our vessel had been previously scraped and cleaned from the
thousands of barnacles which, with a growth of seaweeds, seemed to feed upon her as they do on the throat of a whale. The two Italians and
Captain Wilcomb came on board to bid us adieu; we hoisted sail and came out of the
Labrador harbor. Seldom in my life have I left a country with as little regret as I do this; the next nearest to this was East Florida, after my excursions up the St. John’s River. As we sailed away and I saw, probably for the last time, the high, rugged hills partly immersed in masses of the thick fog that usually hovers over them, and knew that now the bow of our truly fine vessel was turned towards the place where thou, my Lucy, art waiting for me, I felt rejoiced, although yet far away.

Now we are sailing in full sight of the northwestern coast of
Newfoundland, the mountains of which are high, with drifted snow banks dotted over them and cut horizontally with floating strata of fogs reaching along the land as far as the eye can see. The sea is quite smooth; at least I think so, or have become a better seaman through habit. John and Lincoln are playing airs on the violin and flute; the other young men are on deck. It is worth saying that during the two months we have been on the coast of Labrador, moving from one harbor to another or from one rocky isle to another, only three nights have we spent at sea. Twenty-three drawings have been executed, or commenced and nearly completed. Whether this voyage will prove a fruitful one remains to be proved; but I am content, and hope the Creator will permit us to reach our country and find our friends well and happy.

August 13. Harbor of St. George, St. George’s Bay, Newfoundland
. We have been running, as the sailors say, till five this evening, when we anchored here. Our way here was all in sight of land along the northwest shores of Newfoundland, the highest land we have yet seen; in some places the scenery was highly picturesque and agreeable to the eye, though little more vegetation appeared than in Labrador. Last night was a boisterous one and we were all uncomfortable. This morning we entered the mouth of St. George’s Bay, about thirteen leagues broad and fully eighteen deep. A more beautiful and ample basin cannot easily be found; not an obstruction is within it. The northeast shores are high and rocky, but the southern ones are sandy, low and flat. It took us till five o’clock to ascend it and come to our present anchorage in sight of a small
village, the only one we have seen these two months, and on a harbor wherein more than fifty line-of-battle ships could safely ride, the bottom being of clay. The village is built on an elongated point of sand or natural seawall under which we now are, and is perfectly secure from every wind but the northeast. The country as we ascended the bay became more woody and less rough. The temperature changed quite suddenly and this afternoon the weather was so mild that it was agreeable on deck and congenial even to a southerner like myself.

We find here several small vessels engaged in the fisheries and an old hulk from Hull, England, called
Charles Tennison
; she was lost near this on her way from Quebec to Hull some years ago. As we came up the bay a small boat with two men approached and boarded us, assisting as pilots. They had a barrel of fine
salmon which I bought for ten dollars. As soon as our anchors touched bottom our young men went on shore to try to purchase some fresh provisions but returned with nothing but two bottles of milk, though the village is said to contain two hundred inhabitants.
Mackerel are caught all round us, and
sharks of the man-eating kind are said to be abundant just now and are extremely troublesome to the fishers’ nets. Some signs of cultivation are to be seen across the harbor and many huts of Mic-Mac
Indians adorn the shores. We learn the winter here is not nearly as severe as at Quebec; the latitude of this place and the low, well-guarded situation of the little village at once account for this; yet not far off I see patches of snow remaining from last winter. Some tell us birds are abundant, others that there are none; but we shall soon ascertain which report is true. I have not slept a minute since we left Labrador. The ice here did not break up so that the bay could be navigated till the 17th of May, and I feel confident no one could enter the harbors of Labrador before the 10th of June or possibly even later.

August 14
. All ashore in search of birds, plants, shells and all the usual
et ceteras
attached to our vocations; but we all were driven on board soon by a severe storm of wind and rain, showing that Newfoundland has its share of bad weather. Whilst on shore we found the country quite rich compared with Labrador, all the vegetable productions being much larger, more abundant and finer.
We saw a flock of
House Swallows that had bred about the little village now on their passage southwest and all gay and singing. I forgot to say that two days since, when about forty miles out at sea, we saw a flock of the Republican Swallow. I saw here the
Blue yellow-eyed Warbler, the
Fish Hawk, several species of Sparrows, among them the
Lincoln’s Finch, the
Canada Titmouse,
Black-headed ditto,
White-winged Crossbill,
Pine Grosbeak, Maryland Yellow-throat,
Pigeon Hawk,
Hairy Woodpecker,
Bank Swallow, Tell-tale Godwit,
Golden-eyed Duck,
Red-breasted Merganser, three Loons—of which two were young and almost able to fly; the
Spotted
Sandpiper, and a flock of Sandpipers, the species of which could not be ascertained. We spoke to some of the native
Indians to try to engage them to show us the way to the interior, where we are told the Small or True Ptarmigan abounds, but they were too lazy even to earn money. Among the plants we found two varieties of
rose and the narrow-leaved
kalmia. Few supplies can be obtained and a couple of small clearings are all the cultivated land we have seen since we left the Magdalene Islands. On returning to our vessel, I was rowed on the roughest sea I have ever before encountered in an open boat, but our captain was at the helm and we reached the deck safely but drenched to the skin. The wind has now abated and I hope to draw plants all day. This evening a flock of
Terns, twenty or thirty with their young, traveled due south; they were very clamorous and beat against the gale most beautifully. Several Indians came on board and promised to go tomorrow after
hares.

August 15
. We have had a beautiful day; this morning some Indians came alongside; they had half a
reindeer or
caribou and a hare which I had never seen before. We took the forty-four pounds of fresh meat and gave in exchange twenty-one of pork and thirty-three of ship biscuit, and paid a quarter of a dollar for the hare, which plainly shows that these Indians know full well the value of the game which they procure. I spent a portion of the day in adding a plant to my drawing of the
Red-necked Diver, after which we all went on shore to the Indians’ camp across the bay. We found them as I expected all lying down pell-mell in their wigwams. A strong mixture of blood was apparent in their skins, shape and deportment; some indeed were nearly white, and sorry I am to say
that the nearer to our own noble selves, the filthier and lazier they are; the women and children were particularly disgusting. Some of the former from whom I purchased some rough baskets were frightfully so. Other women had been out collecting the fruit called here “baked apple.” When a little roasted it tastes exactly like baked apple. The children were engaged in catching
lobsters and
eels, of which there are numbers in all the bays here; at
Labrador lobsters are rare. The young Indians simply waded out up to their knees, turned the eel grass over and secured their prey. After much parley, we engaged two hunters to go as guides into the interior to procure
caribou and hares, for which they were to receive a dollar a day each. Our men caught ninety-nine lobsters, all of good size; the shores truly abound in this valuable shellfish. The Indians roast them in a fire of brushwood and devour them without salt or any other
et ceteras
. The caribous are now “in velvet” and their skins light gray, the flesh tender but the animal poor. The average weight when in good condition, four hundred pounds. In the early part of March the caribou leave the hills and come to the seashore to feed on kelp and sea-grasses cut off by the ice and cast on the shore. Groups of many hundreds may be seen thus feeding. The flesh here is held in low estimation; it tastes like poor venison.

I saw today several pairs of Cayenne Terns on their way south; they flew high and were very noisy. The
Great Terns passed also in vast multitudes. When the weather is stormy they skim close over the water; if fair, they rise very high and fly more at leisure. The Tell-tale Godwit is now extremely fat, extremely juicy, extremely tender and extremely good. The Boreal Chickadee is very abundant; so is the
Pine Grosbeak, but in a shocking state of molt. The
sheep laurel, the natives say, is an antidote for cramp and rheumatism. I was on the point of bidding thee good-night when we all were invited to a ball on shore. I am going with the rest out of curiosity.

August 16
. The people seemed to enjoy themselves well at the ball and John played the violin for them till half-past two. I returned on board before eleven and slept soundly till the young men hailed for a boat. This morning has been spent drawing a laurel to a bird. The young men went off with the Indians this morning but returned this evening, driven back by flies and
mosquitoes. Lincoln
is really in
great pain. They brought a pair of
Willow Grouse, old and young; the latter had no hairy feathers yet on the legs. They saw
Canada Jays,
Crossbills,
Pine Grosbeaks,
Robins, one
Golden-winged Woodpecker, many Canadian Titmice, a
Martin Swallow, a
Kingfisher (none in Labrador) and heard a
squirrel which sounded like the red squirrel. The country was described as being “up and down the whole way.” The moss almost as deep as in Labrador, the morasses quite as much so; no tall wood and no hard wood. The lads were all so fatigued that they are now sound asleep.

August 17
. We would now be “ploughing the deep” had the wind been fair; but as it was not, here we still are
in statu quo
. I have drawn a curious species of
alder to my
White-winged Crossbill and finished it. I had a visit from an old Frenchman who has resided on this famous island for fifty years; he assured me that no Red
Indians were now to be found: the last he heard of were seen twenty-two years ago. These native Indians give no quarter to anybody; usually, after killing their foes, they cut the heads off the latter and leave the body to the wild beasts of the country. Several flocks of Golden Plovers passed over the bay this forenoon; two
Pomarine Jagers came in this evening.
Ravens abound here but no
Crows have been seen. The Great Tern is passing south by thousands and a small flock of Canada Geese was seen. A young of the Golden-crested Wren was shot, full grown and fledged, but not a sign of yellow on the head. A
Flycatcher was killed which probably is new; tomorrow will tell. I bought seven
Newfoundland dogs for seventeen dollars; now I shall be able to fulfill my promises to friends. The
American Bittern breeds here and leaves in about two weeks hence.

August 18
. At daylight the wind was fair, and though cloudy, we broke our anchorage and at five were underway. We coasted Newfoundland till evening, when the wind blew a gale from the southwest and a regular tempest set in. Our vessel was brought to at dusk, and we danced and kicked over the waves all evening and will do so all night.

August 19
. The storm still continues without any sign of abating; we are still at anchor, tossed hither and thither and withal seasick.

August 21
. Today the storm ceased but the wind is still so adverse that we could make no port of Newfoundland; towards this island
we steered, for none of us wished to return to Labrador. We tried to enter the
Strait of Canseau but the wind failed us; while the vessel lay becalmed we decided to try to reach
Pictou in Nova Scotia and travel by land. We are now beating about towards that port and hope to reach it early tomorrow morning. The great desire we all have to see Pictou, Halifax, and the country between them and Eastport is our inducement.

August 22
. After in vain attempting to reach Pictou, we concluded after dinner that myself and party should be put ashore anywhere, and the
Ripley
should sail back towards the Strait of Canseau, the wind and tide being favorable. We drank a glass of wine to our wives and our friends and our excellent little captain took us to the shore while the vessel stood still with all sails up awaiting his return. We happened to land on an island called
Ruy’s Island where, fortunately for us, we found some men making hay. Two of these we engaged to carry our trunks and two of the party to this place, Pictou, for two dollars—truly cheap. Our effects, or rather those we needed, were soon put up, we all shook hands most heartily with the captain—to whom we now feel really attached—said farewell to the crew and parted, giving three hearty cheers.

We were now, thanks to God, positively on the mainland of our native country, and after four days’ confinement in our berths, and sick of seasickness, the sea and all its appurtenances, we felt so refreshed that the thought of walking nine miles seemed like nothing more than dancing a quadrille. The air felt deliciously warm, the country, compared with those we have so lately left, appeared perfectly beautiful and the smell of the new-mown grass was the sweetest that ever existed. Even the music of the
crickets was delightful to mine ears, for no such insect does either Labrador or Newfoundland afford. The voice of a
Blue Jay was melody to me, and the sight of a
Hummingbird quite filled my heart with delight. We were conveyed a short distance from the island to the main; Ingalls and Coolidge remained in the boat and the rest of us took the road, along which we moved as lightly as if boys just out of school. The roads were good or seemed to be so; the woods were all of tall timber, and the air that circulated freely was filled with perfume. Almost every plant we saw brought to mind some portion of the United States; in a word, all of us felt quite happy. Now and
then as we crossed a hill and looked back over the sea we saw our beautiful vessel sailing freely before the wind, and as she gradually neared the horizon she looked like a white speck or an Eagle high in air. We wished our captain a most safe voyage to Quoddy.