Presented by the
Newfoundland's Grand Banks Site
to assist you in researching your Family History

Click on the graphic below to return to the NGB Home Page
Newfoundland's Grand Banks

To contribute to this site, see above menu item "About".

How to report a possible transcription error

These transcriptions may contain human errors.
As always, confirm these, as you would any other source material.




Leave St. John's for the Westward-Lamaline-St. Pierre- Langlade-Bay of Islands-Excursion up the Humber River- Calm in the Gulf of St. Lawrence-Catch of Codfish

Not having succeeded in finding coal or other valuable mineral matters in this part of the island, the governor thought it would be advisable for me to go round to the western side to examine the coal which was creditably reported to exist there, and then work my way home along the south shore of the island, and examine the other side of Avalon in the fall of the year. We accordingly attempted to replace one of our men who was dis-missed for drunkenness by some one who had a knowledge of the coast we were going to visit, and who could act as a pilot: we were, however, unsuccessful in this, but engaged an active young fellow to serve as a common sailor, and determined to trust for guidance to our charts and our own skill or good fortune.

July 30th.-After the usual trouble in getting all our things on board which attends the departure of both large and small vessels, we sailed today at twelve o'clock with a fine breeze from N.W., and passed Cape Broyle about six in the evening, with the wind lull-ing.

July 31st.-Having had a light wind all night, we only doubled Cape Race early this morning, and about eight found ourselves off Trepassey, among a fleet of fishing-boats, all at anchor, and all catching fish with great expedition, and sailed with a light easterly wind for the island of St. Pierre. The practice I had already had did not prevent my feel-ing very sea-sick, which compelled me to take refuge in my berth the greater part of the time.

August 1st.-Dense fog, so that we could not see twenty yards in any direction. About eleven o'clock it cleared off a little and we saw land ahead, which turned out to be Lawn Islands, the current having drifted us inshore more than we expected. The fog closed in again, and the wind freshened, with a short jerking sea, and about six in the evening we found ourselves close in under some high barren shore, round which the fog was whirling in white eddies, utterly obscuring its features. We concluded this to be St. Pierre, but as none of us had ever been there before, we did not venture to try for the harbour, which is narrow and rocky, and so stood off again. Another attempt just before dark was equally unsuccessful, so we stood off for the night on a SSE course, with a fresh breeze from southwest and a rough sea. At midnight, when we calculated we had made fifteen or twenty miles offing, we hove to.

August 2nd. -Stood in for the land again, the fog being as dense as ever. We very shortly came upon a fishing-boat at anchor, and found that the strong current setting into Fortune Bay, between St. Pierre and the main, had drifted us close inshore upon a highly danger-ous coast, whence reefs of rock extend in some places three miles out to sea. Luckily we had hit a spot where we had the little harbour of Lamaline under our lee, and by follow-ing the directions of the fishermen, and leaving one rock on the starboard, another on our larboard hand, and then hauling up to windward, we found ourselves in smooth water, where we anchored. Still the fog was as dense as ever, and what kind of a place we were in we had no notion. We heard, however, frequent voices, and presently, as it began to clear a little, we observed on one side of us a forest of masts looming through the fog, apparently large vessels, but which turned out to be a fleet of fishing boats waiting to put to sea. Then the dim form of land was seen, and when the fog dissipated we found our-selves in a snug berth enough, behind two islands, with a flat marshy shore on the other side, rising into low barren rocky hills in the interior. We were detained here till the af-ternoon of August 4th by strong westerly winds, when, growing impatient, I put to sea to try to beat up to St. Pierre. There were a considerable number of houses in Lamaline, but, from the neighbouring country being destitute of wood, most of the inhabitants shift their quarters, when winter comes on, to the shores of Fortune Bay. Two men living here, however, had about fifty head of cattle apiece, which they kept on the adjacent marshes, where a rank grass grew. There was a shallow salt lake at the back of the harbour that filled at the rise of the tide, and was called by the people a Barrasway. This is a very common term for a shallow marshy inlet or salt lake along the South coast of Newfound-land. It is spelt in the French charts Barachois, and is, I conclude, a Norman word. A Nova Scotian schooner came in while we were at Lamaline, The Betsy of Halifax She was loaded with pork, molasses, rum, and shop-goods, the latter designation including all kinds of printed calicoes, cloths, ribbons, gloves, shoes, &c. &c. She traded along the coast, receiving dry fish in exchange, and the owner of her, while talking with me, pointed out a common-looking fisherman, who, he said, owed him £100, and whom he immediately proceeded to dun accordingly. I was surprised to find them dealing in so large a way, and trusting any of the tenants of the miserable-looking wooden huts around us to such an amount. The resident merchants complain dreadfully of these floating shop-keepers, whom they consider as interlopers, and who often, by sudden temptation of rum or finery, succeed in getting off a whole cargo of fish that was justly due from the fisher-man to his merchant for goods received. The ultimate result of the practice, however, may be good for both parties, as I shall have occasion to observe when speaking of the trade of the country. Meanwhile, the owner of the Betsy gave the people of the neighbourhood by no means the best of characters in one respect, as he said one winter he was utterly wrecked on Point au Gaul, a few miles to the eastward, and while walking nearly naked on the snow, to try and recover a few articles of clothing which were washed ashore from the wreck, two or three men came down, and made no scruple to pil-fer the things before his eyes, and would hardly give them up when demanded.

August 5th.-After buffeting about for nearly thirty hours, we managed to get into St. Pi-erre outer harbour just before dark. A subordinate officer came on board from the guard-ship (which was only a schooner of four guns) as we stood in, and pointed us out a berth to anchor, and requested to know our business. I gave him my card, and in a short time he returned with the commander of the guard-ship, who was also captain of the port. He spoke a little English, which I answered in as little French. He behaved very civilly, and promised to report my arrival to the commandant, and demand permission for me to wait upon him. Next morning, before I was up, a midshipman came on board with the com-mandant's desire to see me at twelve o'clock, when I accordingly called upon him, and found him a fine intelligent old man, who had formerly been and aide-de-camp to Mar-shal Ney. He was very civil, and invited me to dinner. I learnt here that the Cleopatra, Captain Lushington, the frigate on the Newfoundland station this summer, had sailed the day before we came in, which was a disappointment, as I had hoped to have met with her, and formed an acquaintance with her commander and officers. The islands of St. Pierre, Miquelon, and Langlade are the only territorial possessions left to the French in this part of the world. The harbour of St. Pierre consists of an outer road, which is protected by several small islands and rocks from most winds; and an inner harbour, which is smaller, and has a rocky bar that does not allow of the entrance of anything larger than a brig of about 200 tons. On one side of this inner harbour is the town, consisting of a small nar-row street of wooden houses, few of which are two stories high, and several lanes of still smaller dimensions. The house of the commandant is tolerably sized, built of wood, with several comfortable apartments, having a small esplanade, and a couple of guns, and a sentry or two before it. By treaty the French are not allowed to erect fortifications, nor to have more than fifty soldiers on the island at one time. There were two or three large brigs and a ship in the outer roads, and several smaller vessels, brigs and schooners, in the inner harbour, besides many large boats. They have very strict regulations in the port. No English boats or vessels are allowed to come in having fish on board, on penalty of being seized; and no Englishman is allowed to bring English goods and manufactures, or to set up a shop in the town. There is, however, an American warehouse belonging to Atherton and Thorne, which seemed to be doing a large business. The island of St. Pierre consists principally of sienite, and is barren in the extreme. It is a mass of rocky hum-mocks, the hills rising to a height of 400 or 500 feet directly from the water. The hollows and flatter parts consist of marshes and ponds; and there is not a tree in the island six feet high, a few scrubby fir-bushes alone contriving to exist. It is with the greatest difficulty that they have scraped together near the town sufficient soil to grow a few cabbages. They are entirely dependent on Langlade and Miquelon, or the English settlements in Placentia and Fortune Bay, for firewood. Vegetables they get from Boston or Prince Ed-ward's Island.

August 7th. -Set out early this morning in the boat for Langlade, where the commandant told me he had a summer residence of a much pleasanter character than the one at St. Pi-erre, the country about being finer and more fertile. Just north of St. Pierre, and separated from it by a narrow channel is a small lofty island called Colombier. Its resemblance to a dovecote arises from the multitudes of puffins, which breed there, and are always flying about it in great flocks. From this we had a hard pull of three miles in the teeth of the wind to the cliffs of "Langley", as the Little Miquelon of the French is called by the Eng-lish. We then rowed round Cape Percee, which derives its name from a singular arched rock, and entered a wide bay that lies between Langlade and the greater Miquelon. The scenery here was very striking and picturesque, as the high land of Langlade sloped down towards the west, covered with rich green moss and skirts of wood, into a dense mass of wood of a finer appearance than usual, and covering some flat land that swept round to-wards the north, exposing a fine sand beach, and connecting the two islands of Great and Little Miquelon. These islands, not more than sixty or seventy ears ago, were quite dis-tinct, and are marked so on all old charts; a considerable channel of two fathoms' depth running between them. This, however, is now entirely filled up, and a long narrow line of sand-hills with a beach on each side occupies its place. Instances have been known, even of late years, of vessels in stress of weather making for this channel, and being wrecked on the sands. On walking out along the western side of this neck of land, we found the remains of three wrecks there then, as the place with a southwest wind is very dangerous, more especially in foggy weather. I quite rejoiced in a walk on this sand beach, the only one I had yet seen about Newfoundland, and indeed the only place I had yet found (ex-cept the roads about St. John's) where is was possible to walk at all, as one is accustomed to do, with the head up and the eyes off the ground, and without the constant fear of com-ing down on the nose. It was quite refreshing to be able to step out, with a fair "toe and heel" step, instead of scrambling among bushes, or floundering in wet marsh. The imme-diate neighbour of this strip of sand, however, was a large marsh, in which I shot half a dozen snipe as a compensation for its toilsomeness; and some part of it had been drained and was converted into meadows, on which were sheep and cattle. There are still more extensive meadows, I believe, farther north, on the Miquelon side, where enough sheep and cows are fed to supply St. Pierre and the neighbouring population.

The commandant's house is on a gentle elevation on the south side of the bay near a rocky brook, and prettily situated. Close by was a smaller house occupied by two gen-darmes, who had care of the premises. One of the gendarmes, named Ducroix, was mar-ried to a pretty young Irishwoman, whose history was rather remarkable. She had left Ire-land with her father and uncle when the cholera was raging in it, and had gone with them to Quebec. On arriving at Quebec they found the cholera was very prevalent there also, and they went on to Montreal, where it was worse. At Montreal both her father and his brother were attacked and died of cholera, and she was left alone in a strange land. She managed to get back to Quebec, and there procured a passage in a vessel going to Ireland, intending to return to her friends; but the vessel was totally wrecked on the beach of Langlade one night, and the crew and passengers with great difficulty saved. Here, being very young and quite destitute, she was persuaded to stop and marry The gendarme, who happened to be present, and to have assisted - rescuing her. This was six years ago, and she had now four children. His period of service was nearly out, and he expected to be ordered home the next autumn, when she hoped to be able to visit her friends. They be-haved very hospitably to us, and gave us a loaf of bread and a lot of lettuces, no con-temptible present to a sea-voyager.

August 8th.-Having profited by our visit to a French port by taking in a sea stock of wine and brandy, we sailed from St. Pierre in the middle of the day with a southeast wind and thick and rainy , weather. We could just make out the dim form of Cape Miquelon as we rounded the north end of the island, and then steered away on a west-northwest course into the fog.

August 9th.-Dense fog, with occasional squalls of wind and rain. I experienced a pe-culiar feeling of loneliness today, in looking out from the deck of our little vessel into the heavy fog resting on the dark boiling waves, as we slowly toiled over their crests, or sunk into their hollows, that I do not recollect to have felt before. We seemed so utterly shut out from all the world, so sudden by the dense curtain about us, and our vessel to be such a mere nutshell on the wide waste of waters, which, as its boundaries were no longer visible, appeared to the imagination more vast than when defined by a sensible horizon; and we passed so many hours and traversed so many miles without change of any sort, in the same damp fog, over the same dreary water, that the fancy became affected with a kind of awe, very different from the usual excitement of a mere coasting voyage. I do not known whether the rough minds of my companions were affected in the same way, but they were all silent also.

August 10th.-About six this morning, through a slight opening n the fog, we saw the dim outline of land a mile or two on our starboard hand, and accordingly hauled off to the west-southwest. About noon the fog suddenly cleared off, or rather we ran out of it, and found ourselves fairly in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with Cape Ray about ten miles east-northeast of us, and a bright sun overhead. We then steered north for the Bay of Islands, and at night were off the mouth of St. George's Bay. It was a beautiful evening, with a fine aurora in the northern sky, consisting of a diffused yellow light with brilliant stream-ers rising in the northwest, the whole dabbled with small black clouds.

August 11th.-Fine morning, with fresh breeze from the south. Kept close in to Cape St. George, and between it and Red Island. Red Island is composed of horizontal beds of red sandstone, while the cliffs of Cape St. George are a light yellow limestone, chiefly mag-nesian. We then passed along a low and level shore, being a neck of land running on one side of a large bay, called Port au Port. This was covered with wood. North of the en-trance of Port au Port the coast is very bold and lofty for a considerable distance, as far north as Cape St. Gregory at least, the high lands of which were visible as we came to the entrance of the Bay of Islands. We were here entirely in a new country, but the chart showed us two small harbours on the south side of the bay, called York and Lark Har-bours, in the former of which we anchored about dusk. We had some difficulty in getting in, as under the high lands round the harbour we were every now and then totally be-calmed; then a squall, rushing down some narrow ravine, would suddenly strike us, and hurry us along, "scuppers under," straining the masts and "making everything crack again."

August 12th.-At sailing this morning we kept under the southern shore, passing by sev-eral low flat islands on our larboard hand, in order to enter the most southern of the three branches into which the bay divides, and which is called Humber Sound. I had been in-formed that at the head of this was the mouth of the largest and most navigable river in the island: this I was desirous to ascend as far as possible, in order to get some notion of the interior of the country. In entering the sound a lofty ridge of high land rose immedi-ately to the south of us, called the Blow-me-down Hills. Its general elevation must, I think, have been upwards of 800 feet. It was bare at top; and in some hollows, just under the top and sheltered from the south and the rays of the sun, some patches of snow twenty or thirty yards across still remained, although the summer hitherto had been very hot. The slope of these hills, and the flat land at their foot, was covered with dense wood. Where we lay last night there was no sign of habitation; accordingly we were yet igno-rant whether we should find any people in the neighbourhood, or, if we did, what nation they would belong to. Just at the mouth of the sound, however, we saw a small hut, and made towards it, and presently a human figure presented itself in a tattered dress, but it was not till we heard him speak that we knew whether he was an Indian or a European. We found him to be an Englishman, who, with his wife and two children, had just settled there, and that this hut was his summer residence, his winter house being back in the woods. He was in a poor state at present, but expected to be more comfortable in a few years. He informed us that there were four other small settlements in the sound; accord-ingly in sailing up we saw on each side a patch or two of garden-ground, with a house attached, forming a green opening among the black woods. The sound is about a mile wide and seventeen long, and the scenery, as might be expected from the rocky and woody character of its shores, is of a pleasing kind. We anchored at the head of the sound in not more than eight feet of water, with a muddy bottom. We found here an old man residing with his family in a small wooden house, with a garden attached. He had lived in this spot for sixty years, and had seven sons; one of these, a cripple, was with him; the other six he said were away in the woods hunting either for deer, or beavers, ot-ters, martens, and other fur-bearing animals.

Our first object was to visit the river, which we rowed up about a mile. It had a width of fifty or sixty yards, and a depth of several feet, with a tolerably gentle current. A little farther up, however, the men at the neighbouring hut assured us there was a long rapid, and that our only means of ascent would be hauling the boat by a long line. On returning to the vessel we set to work to prepare, packed up four or five days' provisions, got ready the lines, got out the square sail for a tent, &c.

August 13th.-At seven this morning we set off. After rowing about a mile between wooded Bankss we came to a part where the river made several short turns through rocky precipices of white limestone and quartz, frequently eating its way into their bases, and leaving deep overhanging shelves. At about three miles we arrived at the foot of the rap-ids, where the scenery was highly striking and picturesque, lofty cliffs of pure white limestone rising abruptly out of the woods to a height of 300 or 400 feet, and being them-selves clothed with thick wood round their sides and over their summits. Three men now took a long towing-line, while the skipper and another man stood at the bow and stern of the boat to guide her in the eddies and among the rocks and boulders. There was but little strand for the men to walk, and they had occasionally to wade through the water, or clamber along the edge of the woods, passing the rope from one to the other round the trees. However, after some hard work, we at length reached the head of the rapid, which is nearly a mile long, and stopped to rest and refresh on a Banks of sand above it. Several seals rose in the still water above the rapids, but took care to keep out of gun-shot. One or two passed close by us in the rapids, but we were then too busily employed to think of shooting them. Above the rapids the river has a more straight course, and the hills recede from it without losing their height, enclosing a valley about two miles wide. This valley is filled with groves of birch, and several small brooks fall into the river. The river itself widens to 100 or 150 yards, with a shallower bed, sandy shoals existing in places, with only narrow channels sufficient for our boat between them. One straight reach, however, is two or three miles long and five or six feet deep. Above this, and about six miles above the lower rapids. we came upon some others. The upper part of these rapids, for about a quarter of a mile in length, is much more difficult and dangerous than any part of the lower rapid. The principal mass of water rushes with the greatest force and rapidity over large boulders, and sweeps against a steep rocky Banks. The Banks affords no footing, and the force of the water would not admit not any boat being towed up it. We accordingly tried the other side of the river, but here there was no continuous channel of sufficient depth. We were therefore obliged to unload the boat, carry the things above the rapids, and afterwards fairly lift the boat over the rocks from one little pool to another, and drag her in the best manner we could. With much labour we got her at last into deep water, and again proceeded with the oars. About half a mile above these upper rapids we suddenly came out upon a lake. This was a very beautiful sheet of water, two or three miles across, and with no land visible at its farther extremity, which bore from us about northeast. Some strips of sand formed its Bankss just at the entrance from the river, on which were several fresh deer-tracks. The sand, however, soon gave place to boulders, upon which it was scarcely possible to walk, from their round, smooth, and slippery surfaces. This bor-der of boulders was about three or four yards across, with a steep slope, and above it was the usual bush of fir trees growing out of piles of soft moss. As the evening was now closing in, and it began to rain, we hauled our boat up on the southern shore of the lake, and selected the smoothest place we could find among the wood-covered rocks for our bivouac. We cleared a small space by cutting down a tree or two, rigged one of these across the branches of two that were left standing, threw the sail over it, stretching which out towards the ground we pegged it down, and thus made a very sufficient tent, which. though it rained hard during the night, kept us tolerably dry. The dampness of the ground we partly avoided by lying on the fir boughs, the trimmings of the trees we cut down for firewood.

August 14th.-I was awoke at daybreak this morning by the cry of the "Loo," or great northern diver, a very handsome dark bird with white spots, and almost as large as a goose. Its cry is a wild unearthly yell, with a rather musical cadence, and sometimes a sharp termination. It might be imitated by sounding with a shrill and prolonged note the words "ya hoo," and ending by a short "chuck." From the loudness and closeness of the sound this morning, I concluded one to be close alongshore, and stole quietly down with my gun, but could only see two at the distance of at least half a mile. The water was per-fectly still, and under such circumstances it is astonishing to what a distance their cry will be heard along its surface. It was a dark heavy morning, but as soon as we had break-fasted we proceeded along the shore of the lake, shooting a young gull by the way, to a small brook coming out of a narrow valley at the southeast corner of the lake. Here I shot a couple of beautiful grey-spotted kingfishers, which were new to my eyes, but are, I be-lieve, common in North America. A little breeze soon after sprang up, and the clouds dis-persed, and we sailed with a fair wind up the lake. The high ground around the southwest end of the lake gradually slopes down into a flat country at its northeast extremity, the hills being close to the lake on its southeast side, but on its northwest side gradually re-ceding from it and running off in a connected chain of rugged hills as far to the north as the eye could follow them. When we had sailed about half way up the lake we could just discern the tops of the low woods in the flat land round its northern extremity, from which circumstance, and from the time we took to traverse it, I Judged it to be about fif-teen miles long.

At its northwest corner we found the river again, coming in, in two branches, each about fifty yards across and several feet deep; these branches joined in about 200 yards, enclos-ing thus a delta whose base was about 200 or 300 yards in length. The Bankss of the lake hereabouts were flat and sandy, with occasional small marshes. Proceeding up the river, we found its Bankss, rarely rising more than ten or twenty feet, everywhere covered with dense wood, consisting of fir, larch, spruce, birch, and pine, many trees being of good size, and capable of affording good timber. The river was frequently 100 yards broad, but got more shallow as we proceeded, and at one or two places we had some difficulty in finding water enough for our boat. After proceeding about five miles against a tolerably rapid stream, we encamped on the north side of the river among a grove of birches. We had seen but little game, consisting only of two geese and a few divers, and had lost much time in attempts to procure these, having only succeeded in adding two or three di-vers and the young gull to our stock of provisions. These, with the addition of a lump of salt pork, we boiled all together in our boat's kettle, and, thickening the broth with a little flour, we generally cleared off all its contents, both fluid and solid. To the bouilleé of the kettle we added some molasses-tea and a couple of common sea-biscuits both morning and evening, taking a biscuit or so during the day as we had leisure or appetite.

August 16th.-There was heavy rain last night, but our tent was waterproof. Today we pulled down the lake against a brisk wind, and dined on a little island at the bottom of it, on which were many bilberries, or whortleberries, which the men called "hirts." We then went to the rapids, and with some difficulty "eased" the boat down by a line in the best channel we could find. On arriving at the lower rapids, however, we determined on shooting them, which we did safely, and, after again admiring the "riking scenery of the cliffs and woods around them, we reached our vessel at sunset.

August 17th.-I had been too eager to set off, at starting, to extract information from the old man living here, while he by no means seemed inclined to communicate it regarding the surrounding country. He now told us, however, that the branch of the river we last visited came out of a large pond on the east, which had a half-moon shape, stretching away to the south farther then ever he or his sons had ever penetrated, and that in a southwest gale there was a heavier sea or swell on this lake than was safe for a small boat. He said also that this pond stretched towards St. George's Bay, at which place I hoped to hear further intelligence of it. On the opposite side of the sound to the old man's house we found an Indian wigwam, with an old Indian woman and her two daughters, one of the latter of whom has a daughter married to one of the old man's sons opposite. The old woman had a kind of moustache tattooed on each cheek, and spoke nothing but Indian, but one of the daughters could speak English. They were busy making baskets and moccasins, and were very neat, tidy, civil people. I bought a pair of very pretty moc-casins for half a dollar, made of dressed deer-skin (like Woodstock gloves), and ornamented in front with bits of coloured cloth. The wigwam was composed of a frame of poles like that before mentioned, and covered with large strips of birch bark, kept in their places by other poles resting upon them. The top of the cone was left uncovered to let out the smoke, and the door was closed by a curtain of deer-skin. There was a small fire on the ground in the centre, around which was arranged a layer of small boughs and twigs of fir in a circular fan shape, forming a mat to sit down on. They sat something like Turks, with their legs doubled under them. An Indian man, the husband of one of the daughters, was living with them, but was now away in the woods.

August 18th, 19th, and 20th.-Calms and contrary winds detained us in various parts of Humber Sound, and we only reached Lark Harbour on the evening of the 20th. We vis-ited one family about half way down the sound that were much more civil and intelligent people than the old fellow's family at the head of it. Their name was Blanchard, and the old man had lived here about sixty years, having settled there before the breaking out of the American war. He had several sons that were getting married and beginning to settle about him. His house, though small, was neat and comfortable, and he had two or three small fields under cultivation. They were just getting in the hay from one small meadow, and it appeared of good quality. They had very good currants, raspberries, and gooseber-ries in the garden hedges. These three kinds of fruit we also found at various places wild in the woods. At one part of Lark Harbour, where there had been one or two temporary huts and cleared spots, the raspberries were in the utmost profusion, and were equal both in size and flavour to the best garden raspberries of England. Currants were found pretty plentifully also, chiefly on the cliffs, or wherever there was a broken Banks with rocky ledges. They were both red and black, and of a different species from our English currant, being covered all over with small spines like the rough red gooseberry: the branches, too, had occasionally a soft thorn. Their flavour was rather harsh, but still very agreeable, es-pecially when made into puddings. The gooseberries were more rare, but occasionally we found a small bush, the fruit being small and very sweet, precisely like the small rough red gooseberry of England.

August 21st.-Set sail, and tried to beat up for St. George's Bay against a southwest breeze, which, when we had made about fifteen miles, failed us, and for two days it was stark calm. There we lay rolling idly on the long smooth swell, with a burning sun and not a breath of air, and with the land in sight at a distance of ten miles, through a hazy atmosphere. On the 24th, finding ourselves in soundings, having drifted some distance with the tide, we tied a hook to each end of the log-line, baited it with a piece of pork, and in about an hour and a half we had the deck covered with great codfish. There were fifty-five of them, weighing from five pounds to thirty pounds apiece, and the men split them and packed them into the beef tubs with some brine. Having once caught one, we were at no loss of bait, as there was always something in the stomach of one sufficiently attractive for another; or, if his stomach was empty, a piece of that itself generally tempted one of his fellows. The most killing bait was a bivalve shell, with its enclosed animal, which we found in several of them.


Page contributed by: Bill Crant, February 22nd, 2000
Page revised: Sept 2002 (Terry Piercey)

Recent Updates Contact Us

Search through the whole site
Hosted by
Chebucto Community Net

Your Community, Online!
JavaScript DHTML Menu Powered by Milonic
Newfoundland's Grand Banks is a non-profit endeavor.
No part of this project may be reproduced in any form for any purpose other than personal use.

© Newfoundland's Grand Banks (1999-2016)