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September 25th.-A beautiful morning. Examined the rocks in the neighbourhood of the harbour, which were nothing but gneiss and mica slate, the cliffs glittering with crys-tals and the bright flakes of mica. In the middle of the day a light wind sprang up from the west; so, against Gaden's inclination, we sailed. About three PM the weather looked suspicious, and a long sea began to roll in from the south. The shore was so rocky and dangerous, that it was necessary to look out for a harbour for the night; and seeing a punt, with a man fishing, near the Dead Islands,* we stood in for him, and he piloted us through a cluster of small, low, rocky islets, into a long narrow channel, between a larger island and the main. This was a comfortable and secure harbour, but having shores wild, bare, and rocky, consisting of gneiss and granitic veins. Evening rainy and unpleasant; but just before sunset it cleared off, and we took the boat up a small river that came in at the back of the islands. For about half a mile it was several feet deep, with shallow per-pendicular Bankss of bare rock crowned with moss. We then came to a small fall, above which the brook was a mere rapid, winding through a bed full of boulders of all sizes and shapes. It traversed a wild and desolate-looking little valley, with rocky precipices here and there on each side of it, and the whole face of the country was broken into rugged little hillocks and ravines. Occasionally, at the foot of some higher precipice than usual, two or three fir trees might be seen trying to struggle into existence. All the rest was bare rock or lumps of moss and scrubby straggling bushes. The view seaward was equally re-markable: numberless islets ran along the coast, the chief one of which was half a mile long, steep and woody, but the majority were mere bare rocks, frequently in the shape of a low dome, with just one tuft of bushes growing on their tops.
September 26th.-Fine morning, but the wind blowing from the southeast right against us. There are three or four families scattered on these islets, whom we visited. They seem tolerably comfortable, and very simple and open-hearted, but rather afraid of strangers. Near the eastern entrance of the channel, in a house rather better than the others, lived George Harvey, who had been born and bred on this coast. He was about sixty years of age, and had a large family of sons and daughters, mostly grown up. He had been instru-mental in the course of his life in saving some hundreds of people from wrecks. A few years ago the brig Despatch, full of emigrants, struck, in a heavy gale, on a rock about three miles from his house. He and one of his daughters, then aged seventeen, and a son of twelve, went off in his punt through a heavy sea, and by great exertions brought off the whole of the crew and passengers, consisting of 163 people. He established the people about his house, and shared the whole of his provisions with them, until word could be sent to La Poile, and a vessel sent down to carry them away. They stayed with him a fort-night or three weeks, and his stores were so completely exhausted, that himself and his family were compelled to live chiefly on salt fish, with neither bread, flour, butter, nor tea, during the whole of that winter.
On information of his conduct reaching St. John's, the then Governor, Sir T. Cochrane, sent him £100 and a gold medal, with directions to wear the latter on holidays, such as the King's birthday, &c. This medal, as well as the Governor's letter, the old gentleman took great pride in showing us. On the 14th September, 1838, he again saved twenty-five men, the crew of the ship Rankin, 650 tons, Alexander Mitchell, master, belonging to the house of Rankin and Gillmore, of Glasgow. She struck on a rock and went to pieces, the crew hanging on to an iron bar or rail that went round the poop. He fetched them off by six or eight at a time in his punt through a heavy surf, and kept them till they could get on to La Poile. He showed me some documents left him by the master of the vessel, but complained that he had as yet received no recompense either from the master or the house she belonged to. He and some more men, he said, were once employed five days in burying dead bodies cast ashore from a wreck, from which circumstance, I believe, arose the name of "The Dead Islands," or, as the French call them, "Iles aux Morts." In short, the whole coast between La Poile and Cape Ray seems to have been at one time or other strewed with wrecks. Every house is surrounded with old rigging, spars, masts, sails, ships' bells, rudders, wheels, and other matters. A ship's galley lay at Port aux Basques. The houses too contain telescopes, compasses, and portions of ship's furniture. I heard of several chain cables along the coast, which the people had purchased from wrecks, on the chance of raising them; and I believe they drive a regular trade in old rope and other mat-ters, which are bought by the little schooners that run during the summer alongshore. Mr. Anthoine afterwards told me, at La Poile, that there was scarcely a season (meaning an autumn) but he had four or five shipwrecked crews thrown on his hands to maintain and send away, he being an agent of Lloyd's, as well as the only merchant in the neighbour-hood.
I should be unwilling to obtrude my opinion on matters of which I have no profes-sional, and but little practical, knowledge;-but surely it seems reasonable that a great commercial nation such as England should not suffer the borders of the great high-road to Canada and her North American possessions to be thus strewed with the property and bodies of her subjects. A lighthouse on Cape Ray, with a large bell or gun to be used in fogs, together with a smaller lighthouse, and a pilot or two, either at Port aux Basques, the Dead Islands, or La Poile, as a harbour of refuge, would be the means of great good. There is no want of good harbours along the coast, but their entrances are generally narrow, and only to be found by those thoroughly acquainted with the channels between the rocks and islands.
Old Harvey told us that the gale which occurred while we were in Codroy Harbour was the heaviest he had known for at least twenty years, and that several small vessels had been lost along the coast. In the afternoon he came on board to see me, and have a glass of grog; and then nothing would do but we must all go back, and have a dance at his house along with his daughters. Accordingly, we left his punt alongside our vessel, and took him with us in our own. One of my men played the flute, and we got up a rude kind of country dance, while he regaled us with grog and tobacco. He had written a song, which, at his request, one of his daughters sang to an old "Down, derry-down" sort of a tune. It was a description of the wreck of the Despatch, embodying most of the remark-able incidents that occurred while he was fetching off the crew and passengers. The verse, as may be supposed, was rude enough; but it gave great satisfaction. Then one of my men, Bill, the flute-player, sang a song, likewise of his own composition, and descrip-tive of an adventure of his own, in which it appeared that he, with the rest of the crew, had abandoned a waterlogged vessel off Ferryland; but, after rowing about all night, were very happy to get on board of her again the next morning. This was likewise received with considerable applause. Old George Harvey then told us of his once having seen a horse, in some settlement in Fortune Bay, and described to his family the size and appearance of this remarkable animal. The people wished, he said, to seduce him into mounting on its back; but "He knew better than that," although one fellow did ride it up and down several times. Then, turning to me, "We have some large beasts, Sir, sometimes, in this part of the country. I don't know whether you ever heard of them;-we call them bears, Sir." On which I assured him that I had not only heard of, but had actually seen several bears in my lifetime, although not at large in the woods: with all which he seemed espe-cially interested. I fear the reader will, at first, hardly feel disposed to believe that there are British-born subjects, speaking the English language, in the oldest of our colonial possessions, to whom the horse is a strange animal. Such, however, is the fact. It was not eleven o'clock; and for some time there had been a storm of thunder and lightning, and heavy rain and wind, raging outside. Taking advantage of a temporary lull, we set off to return to our vessel. The wind, which had previously blown from the south, shifted into south-southwest, and began to blow very hard. We accordingly hauled our little vessel close under the lee of the island, and made fast by a line on shore. About two in the morning the wind shifted into the west, blowing a furious gale right down the channel; we were then obliged to haul off from the shore, and let go the other anchor.
September 27th.-The morning broke dark and stormy, with a fierce gale blowing from the west, driving clouds of spray along the water, and heaving up a tremendous sea on the rocks and islands at the western entrance of the channel. The boats alongside were full of water, from the mere "spoon-drift," or spray caught by the wind from the surface of the sea. Luckily, no swell could reach us where we were, and our anchors held on well. About twelve the sun broke through the clouds, but pale and distempered; and it was not till the afternoon that the wind moderated sufficiently to enable a boat to pull against it, even in smooth water. Old Harvey then came off to us, and said that, when he got up in the morning, he ran down to the beach, fully expecting to see us ashore. He was very anx-ious about two of his sons, whom he was expecting back from St. George's Bay, where one of them was gone to get married. He fears they may have been caught in the gale of last night.
September 28th.-The wind has shifted into the southeast again, not permitting us to stir, especially in such a heavy sea as was now rolling outside. A thin, short-haired, black dog, belonging to George Harvey, came off to us today. This animal was of a breed very dif-ferent from what we understand by the term "Newfoundland dog," in England. He had a thin tapering snout, a long thin tail, and rather thin but powerful legs, with a lank body, the hair short and smooth. These are the most abundant dogs of the country, the long-haired curly dogs being comparatively rare. They are by no means handsome, but are generally more intelligent and useful than the others. This one caught his own fish. He sat on a projecting rock beneath a fish flake, or stage, where the fish are laid to dry, watching the water, which had a depth of six or eight feet, and the bottom of which was white with fish bones. On throwing a piece of codfish into the water, three or four heavy clumsy-looking fish, called in Newfoundland "sculpins," with great heads and mouths, and many spines about them, and generally about a foot long, would swim in to catch it. These he would "set" attentively, and the moment one turned his broadside to him, he darted down like a fish-hawk, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth. As he caught them, he carried them regularly to a place a few yards off, where he laid them down; and they told us that in the summer he would sometimes make a pile of fifty or sixty a day, just at that place. He never attempted to eat them, but seemed to be fishing purely for his own amusement. I watched him for about two hours; and when the fish did not come, I ob-served he once or twice put his right foot in the water, and paddled it about. This foot was white; and Harvey said he did it to "toll" or entice the fish; but whether it was for that specific reason, or merely a motion of impatience, I could not exactly decide. The whole proceeding struck me as remarkable, more especially as they said he had never been taught anything of the kind.
September 29th.-Sailed today with a light wind from the west. The land east of the Dead Islands preserves the same bleak and rocky character, but gradually rises higher to-wards the east. About Garia Bay a ridge runs into the country with three high bluffs on it, the high range of Cape Ray being still visible over the intermediate country. We entered La Poile Bay in the afternoon, and anchored in the first cove on the larboard hand, where there is a small settlement, and a considerable mercantile establishment belonging to Mr. Anthoine, a native of Jersey. Mr. Anthoine was in England, and his son very busy; but the latter came on board with Mr. Reid, the custom-house officer, and invited me ashore. There were two brigs and several schooners at anchor. September 30th and October 1st.-Very unwell with a severe cold and sore throat. Took the boat to the head of the bay, and went nearly round it. It is composed of a coarse-grained granite, of porphyry and quartz, and of chlorite and other slates. The head of the bay is rather more wooded and fertile-looking than the surrounding country, but the eastern shores are craggy and broken, and form a mass of the most irregular, rough, bristling hillocks I ever saw, rising from a table-land of some 200 or 300 feet in height. I saw here three St. John's newspapers, being the first news I had had of the rest of the world for these two months. We heard also news from the Cape. In the last gale, that of the 27th, all the vessels lying in Codroy harbour, consisting of a sloop and two French schooners, were driven ashore and wrecked, being beaten entirely to pieces in about two hours. A large brig was lost, with all hands, about half a mile above the spot where we saw the Onondago. She was seen in the morning to have anchored about a mile from shore, and inside a shoal on which the water broke; her crew were clinging to the yards and rigging. As the wind was dead on shore, all assis-tance was, I suppose, out of the question. At last a sea struck her, and she fell on her beam ends, but righted again. Another sea struck her, and she fell over, but not so far. The next heavy sea, however, turned her clean over, and she lay bottom upwards. Then the windlass appears to have been torn from her deck, and she drifted inshore, righted as she approached the land, and was cast into a sandy cove, where, had the crew run her ashore at first, they might have been saved. The next day six dead bodies were picked up on the beach, and one was found hanging out of the stern windows of the cabin. Such was the account brought to La Poile; but as nobody who could read had yet seen the wreck, her name was unknown. We were peculiarly lucky in being on the right side of the Cape in each of these gales, and each time in a tolerable harbour. No news had been heard of Harvey's boat, but a boat had been seen coming out of St. George's Bay the evening be-fore the gale, which was thought to be the one in question; and unless they had taken warning in time, and run back up the bay, it was feared they were lost, and that the bridal party had perished in the week of their wedding.
The little settlement of La Poile seemed very comfortable, and the people happy, kind-hearted, and hospitable, although I was too unwell to participate in their enjoyments. Mr. Anthoine's is the chief mercantile establishment between Cape La Hune and Cape Ray. Twenty or thirty years ago there were not more than three or four families within that space. Now, however, there are several inhabitants in almost every cove, and Mr. Antho-ine told me that since he came to La Poile he has been obliged to double his stock almost every year in order to supply the increasing population.
October 2nd. Sailed at daybreak this morning in company with a schooner belong-ing to Mr. Bagg of La Poile. A lovely day, with a cool breeze. There has been a sharp frost every night for the last few nights. The character of the country continues much the same, but becomes bolder as we proceed to the west. The hills gradually rise higher, but are still bare, craggy, and precipitous; and the country, for the most part, is the very pic-ture of desolation. Mr. Bagg, in his schooner, led the way, and when off the Burgeo Is-lands he suddenly rounded-to, and proposed to run into harbour. The wind had veered to the south, and the sky began to look dirty. We followed him, therefore, through a narrow channel, among many small islands and low sunken rocks, and anchored in a small cove called Grandy's Cove. As we meant, if possible, to sail early the next morning, I landed just at sunset, to get some specimens of the rock, when a man came down, and, after looking at me with evident wonder for some time, at last asked me if wanted ballast.
October 3rd and 4th.-Detained by contrary winds blowing fresh from the south-east. Called on Mr. Cox, who has a small "store" here, and had married Mr. Bagg's daughter. He gave us a good dinner of pork, and several kinds of vegetables, with milk and wine. A regular dinner was becoming rather an event in my existence, as I had now for some time lived on dry ham and rather musty biscuit, my potatoes being all gone, and no supplies to be got on this barren coast. Near Mr. Cox's house was a schooner ashore, half buried in sand: she was laden with coal from Sydney to St. John's, and was driven on land in the first gale. There is a considerable population, inhabiting forty or fifty houses, which are scattered about the central portion of the Burgeo Islands.
October 5th. Sailed at four in the morning, with the wind from the north. I had in-tended to have visited Fortune Bay on my return, and also Placentia and St. Mary's. We had, however, lost so much time, from contrary winds and other accidents, and it was get-ting so late in the season, that I determined on passing
Fortune Bay and going direct to St. Peter's, and thence to Placentia. The wind blew fresh from the north-northeast, very cold, and knocked up a troubling sea, that upset my cabin stove, and so deprived me of a fire. We did not anchor in the outer roads of St. Pe-ter until half past eight.
October 11th.-After several shifts and changes, the wind this afternoon settled into a pleasant breeze from the west. We accordingly set sail, having Mr. R. Thorne, who lived at St. Lawrence, as a passenger. At ten o'clock PM we were off Cape Chapeau Rouge, immediately to the east of which are two small inlets called Great and Little St. Law-rence. We accordingly stood in, but it was so dark we could not make out the entrance at first, and at last got into Great St. Lawrence, instead of the other inlet, in which was Mr. Thorne's residence.
October 12th to 16th.-We were again detained at St. Lawrence during this time by a suc-cession of contrary winds, during which I was hospitably entertained by Mr. J. T-and his lady, who reside at Little St. Lawrence together with two younger brothers. They gave me a very snugly-furnished bedroom. It was the first time I had slept in a bed since July. Their house is very prettily situated on a small peninsula jutting into the inlet, and con-nected with the main by a pebble beach. This beach is evidently of recent formation, be-ing thrown up by the indraught of the tide during the southwest gales, and the peninsula was once an island. The country around is wild, but picturesque, having the rocky heights of Cape Chapeau Rouge in view on one side, and those of St. Margaret and St. Anne on the other: these are round-topped craggy hills, each rising about 800 feet above the level of the sea. The rest of the country is broken, rocky, and undulated, varied with the usual proportion of marshes, barrens, and stunted woods, and ornamented with a few fine lakes or ponds, of which there is one about a mile long near the northeastern extremity of the harbour. The lake empties itself by a stream running between rocky Bankss, and terminat-ing by a picturesque little waterfall. This waterfall has cut back about 150 yards in the course of time through a hard slate rock, forming a ravine with perpendicular walls, up which the tide now flows to the foot of the falls. One day one of the men came across to me from Great St. Lawrence with intelligence that a lead vein had been discovered. On going over I found quite an excitement, and at least twenty people hammering and dig-ging at the rock. The rock itself was a kind of sienite, consisting principally of red feld-spar with interspersed crystals of quartz. A vein two or three inches wide was in one part filled with small crystals of fluate of lime, and among these were some little cubical crys-tals of galena, and a coating of a greenish hue that might be green carbonate of copper. To satisfy the people, I had a good deal of the rock pulled down, and the whole affair shortly ended, the vein closing and losing all its crystalline contents. It is just possible that more mineral veins and of better quality might be found in the neighbourhood, but no other indications existed, and none appeared in the cliffs, while the interior of the country was covered with moss and wood.
October 17th.-Morning fine, calm, and hazy, but towards noon a light breeze sprang up from the west, and we left St. Lawrence for Mortier Bay, where I heard of limestone and marl having been found. The shore is bold, with rocky cliffs and many indentations. We passed close by Burin, in which, from the number of houses, there seems to be a con-siderable population, and anchored in Mortier harbour. Mr. H-, the stipendiary magistrate of Burin, had a house here, and came to invite me ashore. The next morning he took me in his whale-boat into Mortier Inlet, a short distance farther up the coast. We passed through a narrow passage between a small inaccessible island, called Crony Island, and the main. It was scarcely wide enough for our oars, but a schooner is said once to have darted through it when chased by an American privateer, and not able to fetch the princi-pal entrance of the inlet. There were several families residing in various parts of this inlet, in pretty and picturesque situations, and some spots showed a considerable degree offer-tility. The different rocks occurring even in this little space were very numerous, as may be seen by referring to the report. There were one or two thin beds of impure limestone and some red indurated marls, and "cornstones" in red sandstones, more like the bottom parts of the coal formation in St. George's Bay, than anything I had seen on the eastern side of the island.
October 19th.-Sailed for Placentia, but about noon the wind headed us, and we made for the island of Oderin. The western side of Placentia Bay is full of islands, many of which are low, and surrounded by sunken rocks and reefs. We had a group of these on each side of us, as we made Cape Jude; and shortly after, passing through a narrow en-trance between two small steep islands, we ran into a harbour in another small island, and, narrowly escaping a sunken rock about its centre, we anchored in a snug berth in an inner cove. This was Oderin, and we had scarcely anchored before a northeast wind sprang up, that, had we been outside, would probably have sent us back to Mortier or Burin. On the north side of the little harbour of Oderin is a tolerable house and very ex-tensive warehouses and stores: these are now only half occupied by a young man who was trying in some measure to re-establish the very extensive trade that must once have existed there. One or two brigs were at the wharf, and several small houses were scattered about. We were detained here a day by a northeast wind, and I was hospitably entertained by Mr. H-on shore.
October 21st.-Sailed with a northwest wind and a most lovely morning for Placentia. The air was very sharp and the sky clear, and as we sailed along I was amused by watching the rapid changes of form assumed by the various islands on each side of us as they came upon the horizon. I concluded-though, having broken my thermometer, I had no means of testing it-that the sea was of a higher temperature than the air, and that therefore there was a stratum of air just above the surface of the sea (which was quite smooth) that con-tinually varied in temperature, and consequently in density and the quantity of moisture it contained. Such a state of things would, I should suppose, produce the optical phenomena alluded to. Although perfectly clear round about us, the sea near the horizon seemed to be covered with a dense white fog, smooth and bright as water, in which the distant islands were both reflected and distorted. Two or three headlands were transformed into a row of narrow pillars, constantly shifting their proportions, and some of the rocky islands as-sumed all kinds of queer shapes just before they disappeared. It seemed almost like a nar-row stripe of a phantasmagoria. About three PM we ran into the harbour of Great Placen-tia. This is a small bight, with very bold and lofty headlands on the north side, and a low point on the south side. The highest part of the north side is covered by the ruins of a fort, called the Castle, and several old guns are lying about, one or two having fallen halfway down the precipitous cliffs. From underneath these lofty cliffs at the head of the bay, a pebble beach sweeps out, and is separated by a channel, not more than 150 yards across, from another similar pebble beach coming from the opposite side of the bight. On the point of each of these beaches are the ruins of a strong fort. The channel leads into the inner harbour, which divides into two arms: one, called the northeast arm, about ten miles long, and nearly straight, and the other the southeast, with a very winding course of about five miles. The southeast arm nearly surrounds a steep rocky piece of ground which was once an island, but is now connected by a long pebble beach with the mainland on the south side of the harbour blocking up what about sixty years ago was the entrance of the southeast arm. There is another pebble beach stretching from into the mouth of the chan-nel, on which the town, if it can be called such, is built. It was once a very considerable place, being the French capital when they held possessions on the island, and eve, under the English was formerly much more important than it is now. It consists of a number of small houses huddled together and one or two of a better class: it has a Roman Catholic chapel, well attended, and a church, but neither minister nor congregation belonging to it. Mr. B-, the surgeon and magistrate, called on me, and invited me ashore.
October 22nd.-Mr. B-breakfasted with me, and we then set out to walk to Little Pla-centia, a distance of about five miles. It was a fine morning with a sharp frost, and to my great delight I found a regular road made. Actually a road! with bridges across the brooks, fifteen feet wide, and mostly covered with gravel. It was rough enough, to be sure, and in some places boggy, and if it had not been for the frost, would have been suf-ficiently muddy; but I saw none of its inconveniences. I could again step out with a free stride, could raise my eyes from the ground while I walked, and had the free use of my limbs. I never appreciated the advantage of a road before: it was really like liberty after imprisonment, and at the best parts of it I felt very much inclined, like the Irishman, to walk backwards and forwards in order to make the most of it. Little Placentia, as well as Great Placentia, stands on what was once an island, being connected to the main by a beach of large pebbles. It is a straggling place on the low side of an inlet, with bold rocky hills on the opposite side. We borrowed a punt and examined some of the rocks, which consist principally of slate, and after being caught in a snow squall, we dined with a gen-tleman residing in the town as a merchant, and returned to Great Placentia in the evening. The snow had turned to rain, and it was blowing hard from the west.
October 23rd, 24th, 25th.-Detained by westerly winds with heavy rain and miserable weather. The entrance of the inner harbour being so narrow, and the arms so extensive, it may easily be imagined that the tide, even with a rise of only six feet, causes very rapid currents at the ebb and flow. When near low water, indeed, it is almost impossible to stem the current of either the ebb tide or the flood with any strength of wind. The ebb tide is of course the strongest, and also the longest, and the ebb from the southeast arm, in consequence of its many windings, is three quarters of an hour later than that from the northeast arm: there is consequently a dangerous eddy, and for a short time contrary cur-rents on each Banks of the channel. Even with a fair wind, therefore, a vessel is obliged to wait for the tide; and, from the embayed position of the place, one wind is required to take her out of the harbour, and another when she arrives at Cape St. Mary, to take her round to St. John's. At twelve o'clock on the night of the 25th the wind shifted into the northeast, and the tide turning at the same time, we sailed.
October 26th.-It blew very hard last night; and on looking out on my cabin at daylight this morning, I found a pretty scene of confusion. The stove and all its pipes had cap-sized; my chair, clothes, and books had got adrift, and together with two or three cups, plates, and other articles, were piled in confusion on the cabin floor. We were now, how-ever, round Cape St. Mary, with a light wind at north-northwest. The day turned out fine, and at noon we were close in with the east side of St. Mary's Bay, passing near St. Shotts. This place, a small rocky cove or bay, is the terror of mariners on this coast. The currents are very variable and deceitful, and frequently set with deadly strength right upon this shore, sweeping up the east side of St. Mary's Bay. Not a season passes but, at some time of the year, there is a succession of wrecks just at this spot. Now, however, it was calm and quiet enough; and we sailed past under the steep cliffs of Cape Freels and Cape Pine, and then ran up into the harbour of Trepassey. This is a pleasant-looking place, the land having a gentle slope on all sides toward the harbour, and being comparatively bare of wood. There is a considerable number of houses, and among them one or two of a good size and appearance. The best belongs to Mr. S-, who, I regretted to find, was from home. He is clerk of the court to the southern circuit, and was now absent with the judge, who was on circuit, and whose vessel we saw pass the mouth of the harbour in the evening. They had left Placentia shortly before we arrived there, had since been to St. Mary's, and were now gone on to Ferryland.
October 27th.-Rainy and disagreeable, with variable winds from the southward. As the crew had been on deck all the night before, and it was Sunday, I gave them holiday today, instead of continuing our route, but had reason most grievously to repent it. If the wind were but fair, I might have been in St. John's, lolling on a sofa reading letters, or going to dine with the governor. A most humiliating condition of humanity to be depend-ent on the direction of a puff of wind. Waiting for a coach is bad enough; but only fancy waiting four days at one time, without even room to walk about in-getting out of your berth to sit down on a chair, getting off the chair to lie down in the berth, or occasionally going two steps up the companion ladder to look at the rain, and be satisfied that it is go-ing to last.
From October 27th to November 9th.-A weary period of thirteen days, the wind blowing from the northeast without intermission. The weather was mostly wet, with fogs, and oc-casional storms of snow and heavy rain. Even in the fine intervals, I dared not stir far from the harbour, lest a favourable change of wind should occur. I once or twice deter-mined to set out on foot, but the people whom I consulted said the brooks between Tre-passey and Renews would not be fordable, except after a day or two of fine weather, and this we never had. I had, moreover, no fancy for wading through several brooks, up to my middle in ice-cold water, if it could be reasonably avoided. Mr. G. S-'s absence deprived me of all companionship to relieve the tedium of the time, although Mrs. S-exercised all the hospitality she could in the absence of her husband. Indeed, without her kind assis-tance, in supplying me with books, and allowing me to join her tea-table in the evening, I know not how I should have survived this period of dreary inaction. Of the rest of the in-habitants, not one came near us.
Mrs. S- is likewise waiting for a wind to go to St. John's. What would an English lady think of being obliged to go a hundred miles in a small boat, with a little cabin on deck, in the stormy month of November, along a rugged and dangerous coast-taking a baby too-in order to buy provisions for the winter? She has gone twice a year since she was married-sometimes with her husband, sometimes without. She was wrecked once with a baby and a maid-servant, and out in an open boat all night.
On November the 2nd the wind had been blowing very hard all night, and in the morning increased to such a gale as caused our vessel to drag her anchors, and slowly and deliberately drift ashore. Luckily, she settled on a small beach of pebbles, in the only place where it was possible to avoid having her bottom knocked in by sharp-pointed rocks. Here, after a few thumps and heaves, she quietly settled down among the pebbles; but as the harbour was two miles long, there was a sufficient swell in the direction of the wind to dash over her sides, and pour bucketsful of water into the cabin and hold. Even in this uncomfortable position, no one from the adjacent houses came to our assistance; and I was told, I know not how truly, that there were those on shore who, having made money by wrecking, cared not how soon we went to pieces, provided it gave them an opportu-nity of making anything by us. Luckily no ultimate harm was done, and the next day we got the vessel upright, heaved the ballast out of her, and, taking advantage of a high tide on the night of the 5th, floated her off. On the 7th and 8th the harbour gradually got full of vessels, brigs and schooners, waiting for a fair wind for St. John's.
November 9th.-At length the wind came up from the southwest, and we all beat out of the harbour and sailed alongshore with a beautiful day and a fair wind. The land about Cape Race is comparatively low and bare of wood, with a steep cliff of about fifty feet in height, and deep water close inshore. From Cape Ballard to the northward the land gradu-ally becomes higher to Cape Broyle, a fine bold headland, 400 or 500 feet high. As it got dark the wind became lighter, and off Ferryland it sank to a calm. We accordingly towed into Ferryland harbour, and anchored for the night.
November 10th.-Perfectly calm this morning. Ferryland is a pleasant place, with a good road along the cliff, and several large and good houses. The road is continued each way from the harbour, and towards Aquaforte is sound and in good condition. The scen-ery around is varied and picturesque, the bold headlands, cliffs, and rocky inlets of the sea-view harmonising well with the dark woods and hills of the land. At noon, when we were expecting a breeze to enable us to proceed, the everlasting northeaster again sprang up right in our teeth. To avoid a repetition of our Trepassey adventure, with perhaps a worse result, we got into a sheltered little cove, on the south side of the harbour, called the "Pool."
November 10th to 15th.-Again did the wind, during these five days, blow furiously and pertinaciously from the northeast, bringing snow and frost, rendering it impossible to stir by sea, and almost impracticable to move about on shore. I was, however, very kindly and hospitably treated by several resident families; and though becoming very impatient, and being extremely anxious to receive letters and intelligence, the tedious and weari-some delay was at length terminated.
Page contributed by: Bill Crant, February 22nd, 2000
Page revised: Sept 2002 (Terry Piercey)
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