EX LI6RIS ROBERT GIBSON. Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2009 witii funding from Ontario Council of University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/newfoundlanditsOOmill _ - KjpKf-j 'fy'- BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE WILD-FOWLER IN SCOTLAND. With a Frontispiece in Photogravure after a Drawing by Sir J. E. MlI.l.Ais, Bart., P.R.A. S Photogravure Plates, 2 Coloured Plates, and 50 Illustrations from the Author's Drawings and from Photographs. Royal 4to, gilt top, 30s. net. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BRITISH SURFACE-FEEDING DUCKS. With 6 Photogravures and 66 Plates (41 in Colours) from Drawings by the Author, Archi- bald TnORBURN, and from Photographs. Royal 4to, gilt top, ^6, 6s. net. THE MAMMALS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. With 62 Coloured Plates by the Author, Archihald Thorburn, &c. ; 62 Photogravures and 140 Uncoloured Plates. 3 vols., 4to, gilt top, ;^i8, i8s. net. LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA Jtl^i* ^/^^^^f^ Y'/v //if' J/^/'//^/f> /'/'/<■// /.J NEWFOUNDLAND AND ITS UNTRODDEN WAYS J. G. MILLAIS, F.Z.S. AUTHOR OF "A BREATH FROM THE VELDT," "BRITISH DEER AND THEIR HORNS" "THE WILD-FOWLER IN SCOTLAND," "THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BRITISH SURFACE-FEEDING DUCKS," "THE MAMMALS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND," ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA 1907 All rights reserved DEDICA TED TO HIS EXCELLENCY Sir WILLIAM MacGREGOR K.C.M.G. GOVERNOR OF NEWFOUNDLAND CONTENTS CHAPTER I INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY PAGES Newfoundland and its attractions— Caribou and their migrations— St. John's — Daily papers — Terra-Nova— Guides — Little Mike and his pets — Start up Terra-Nova River — A bad river — Lake MoUygojack — St. John's Lake — The Beothicks — Their early history, habits, and treatment by white races — Captain Whitbourne's account — Lieutenant Cartwright and Captain Buchan's expeditions — Cormack's expedition — Mary March — Indian methods of killing deer 1-30 CHAPTER II CARIBOU HUNTING NEAR LAKE ST. JOHN No luck — Move to a new country — First success — Continuous drought — Capture of another stag — Saunders and his seal-hunting days — A dangerous calling — Story of Matilda Barworth — Jack's dreams — They come true — Discovery of a new lake — Female caribou and their horns — Stephe the Indian — -Stories of Stephe and the men he did not like 3I-S6 CHAPTER III BEGINNING OF THE MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE The French shore question from the Newfoundlander's point of view — Lobsters — Hunting in timber — A fine stag — A long shot — A poor chance at a good head — Deer begin to migrate — -Baxter Stroud and Noah Dimot — Equinoctial gales — A thirty-five pointer — Journey towards civilisation — Conclusion of first trip ..... 57-7'* CHAPTER IV EXPEDITION INTO NEW GROUND UP THE GANDER RIVER Projected visit to Labrador — Boat sails before its time — Decide to try fresh ground in Newfoundland and be my own guide— The Gander and its difficulties — Unknown country — ^Judge Prowse — He tells of the inception of the railway — Glenwood — Sandy Butt— Timber resources of Newfoundland — The " superior " Canadian — The Gander Lake — Frank de la Barre — Start up river — A shallow stream — The greater yellowshank — The first meat — Rolling Falls — Flies — Wound a bear — Black bears and their habits — Bear stories — Wrecking — Close of an unlucky day . 75-102 viii CONTENTS CHAPTER V A hunter's paradise PACES A great game country — Kill a thirty-five pointer — The uncertainty of" river-hunting" — Reach open country and kill two fine stags — Love-sick stags .... 103-112 CHAPTER VI HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER AND RETURN TO GLENWOOD Beautiful country — Successful still-hunting — The river becomes difficult — Drought pre- vents journey across Newfoundland — A hunter's paradise — Hunting incidents — A great stag at last — Stormy weather — Decide to return — Vagaries of wind — Death of the forty-nine pointer — The bear and the carcase — Bears wreck the cache — Difficulties with the boats — Reach Glenwood — The hotel — The "accommodation" train . i '3-137 CHAPTER Vn A VISIT TO THE OUTPORTS OF THE SOUTH COAST The fascination of Newfoundland — Sport and geography — Modern fin-whaling — The beauty of Placentia — St. Lawrence — Doggerel names — Flowers — Dogs — Sheep— The curse of ownerless dogs — Butterflies — The natives — Their conservatism — Habits — Insanitary surroundings — Modes of life — Cod-fishing — Methods of taking cod — Dangers of the fishing — The Naval Reserve — Its importance in the future . 13S-159 CHAPTER Vni MODERN FIN-WHALING AND THE GREAT WHALES History of Newfoundland whaling — The far-seeing Lord Bacon — The Spanish Basques — The inventions of .Svend Foyn — New methods — Immediate success in Europe and Newfoundland — Description of the great whales — The blue whale — Adventure of the Ihima — The common rorqual — Chase of the finback — Rudolphi's rorqual — The humpback — Incidents of humpback hunting — A dangerous whale— Occasional visitors .............. 160-1S3 CHAPTER IX THE CHASE OF THE BLUE WHALE The St. Lawrence whale factory — The whaling steamer — I go for a cruise — A rough ex- perience— Bad weather and no whales — Hunting finbacks — Sight blue whales — Details of the chase — A successful shot — The death flurry — Methods of raising — Sharks — Dr. RismuUer 184-193 CHAPTER X ACROSS NEWFOUNDLAND Intend to cross Newfoundland by canoe — ^John McGaw — Voyage along the south coast — Bale d'Espoir — Mr. Leslie — W. E. Cormack^The first crossing of Newfoundland — Pack over the mountains to Long Pond — Trees — A dangerous Lake — Soulis Ann, Brazil, and Little Burnt Lakes — The skilfulness of the Indian— Sunset on Little Burnt Lake 194-204 CONTENTS CHAPTER XI THE MOUNT CORMACK REGION AND HISTORY OF THE NEWFOUNDLAND Round Lake — The first stag — Petroleum springs— Shoal Pond — Decide to visit Mount Cormack — Dead Man's Rapids — Lake Pipestone — Schoolboys again — Abundance of deer — Stags are scarce — A great rarity — Indian "calls" — Cormack incorrectly mapped — Bad weather — Return to Shoal Pond — Differences of temperament — Unscientific doctoring — Joe's melancholia — An excellent hunter — Start into the unknown country — The Matthews boys — The Micmac Indians — Their numbers — Religion — Modes of life— Hunting areas — Deer killed by them — List of the Indian hunters — The chief — The curse of drink — The difficulties of obtaining just laws — Jealousy of the Indians about their trapping-grounds — Joe's anger — Dog Lake — We kill some meat 205-227 CHAPTER XII DISCOVERY OF THE SOURCE OF THE GANDER AND INCIDENTS OF STILL-HUNTING IN THE TIMBER The attraction of the unknown — The difficulties of Newfoundland exploration — Start packing towards the east — The source of the Gander discovered — Ascend Partridge- berry Hill — New lakes — Martin's appetite — I kill a stag on the summit of Burnt Hill — Beavers — McGaw's first kill — Beaver dams — Habits — A shot at dawn — Journey down the Gander — We camp for a week — Female caribou with large horns — A long shot — Hunting on the Gander — McGaw gets a good head — My friend leaves for the coast — A poor season for heads — Still-hunting in the timber — The caribou an alert animal in woods — Kill a fine thirty-four pointer — We get " bogged " — Calling a stag — A curious head 228-24 CHAPTER XIII WORK AND SPORT IN THE UPPER REACHES OF THE GANDER AND GULL RIVERS The lynx in Newfoundland — Abundance of stags — Fine horns — Serpentine Hill — Successful hunting — Tramping the country — The source of the Great and Little Gull Rivers — Nearly drowned — Bad weather — Good-bye to Joe — Difficulties on the line . 249-261 CHAPTER XIV TO MOUNT SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMAC INDIANS Theories about the caribou migration — Decide to survey the Long Harbor River and Mount Sylvester country— Sir Robert Bond — Introduction of capercailzie and black grouse to the island — The GUncoe — Belleoram — Philip Ryan — Indians — Steve Bernard — Matty Burke — His adventure in St. Pierre — ^Johnny Benoit — The Long Harbor River — John Hinx — ^John's story of his youth — Willow grouse — Ptarmigan — Wild grasses — Ponies — A difficult river — New lakes — Matty Burke and Johnny Benoit leave for their trapping-grounds — End of canoe journey . . . 262-277 X CONTENTS CHAPTER XV OPEN-GROUND HUNTING ON THE SHOE HILL AND KESOQUIT RIDGES PAGES An open country— " Tufts " — The Kesoquit Hills — Louis John's tilt — Micky John — Herd cnribou — Shoe Hill — ^John spies a fine stag — A massive head— The caribou a great fighter — Go to Mount Sylvester — Heavy packs — A thirty-nine pointer — Stalking with the camera — Some successes and many failures — Great deer roads — Mount Sylvester — A splendid view — Abundance of deer — A large hummel — Find a grand stag — Death of the forty-five pointer — A long stalk ends an eventful day — The joys of hunting 278-295 CHAPTER XVI WANDERINGS ABOUT LAKE MAELPEG AND MOUNT SYLVESTER Close of the rutting season — Kill two stags — Indian bootmaking — Steve's story of the lost man — Foxes — Abundance of deer — The migration commences — A lucky shot — Packing and canoeing homewards — Discomforts of winter travel — Appreciation of Newfoundland 296-308 CHAPTER XVn THE NEWFOUNDLAND CARIBOU The caribou — Local races — Their similarity — The Newfoundland variety — Indian names — The "toler" — Horns — Indian superstition — Large heads — Author's specimens, with measurements — Female horns — Food — A great " trek " — Winter habitat — • Migrations — Game laws — Deer not decreasing^Autumnal habits — Fighting — A reckless animal — Fears — Voice — Glands — Plagued by flies — Introduction of reindeer to Labrador — Introduction of moose to Newfoundland ..... 309-336 APPENDIX Outfit — Indian names — Colloquialisms — Game laws 337-340 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PHOTOGRAVURE PLATES Drifting by the Gander Birches MiLLAis's Lake from the East Happiness !...... "He was jes like that old Rip" Returning to Camp after a Good Day A Great Stag ..... Frontispiece Facing p. 50 58 66 252 1) 296 COLOURED PLATES Newfoundland Caribou ...... " Man'll goa fer Swoile where gold won't drag 'un " Rolling Falls ........ In the Place where no Man Comes .... Dog Lake The Newfoundland Willow Grouse .... Facing p. 26 42 88 94 234 266 LINE AND HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS " Newfoundland and its Untrodden Ways " "Shadows we are, and Shadows we Pursue Entrance to St. John's Harbour 1 The Harbour from the South J Robert Saunders .... Little Mike "> Jack Wells / " " ' Rough Places on the Terra-Nova \ Hauling Over the Shallows . J A Fine Old Pine, St. John's Lake A Micmac Wigwam Mary March ^ Beothick Canoe J iE| Title-page Facing p. I S 7 i6 xu LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS The First Stag's Head (in Velvet)^ A Good Stag I ' Harp Seals Assembling on the Ice . Saunders' Waterfall, Terra-Nova River Where a Stag has Cleaned his Horns Caribou Swimming .... After a Long Shot .... Canada Geese Yellowshanks What you can do if there is a Big Stone, &c. L'Allegro 1 II Penseroso ) Hk Surveys you with a Look of Intense Disapproval Jack Steering his Canoe down a Shallow ^ Results of the First Trip . i ' Sandy Butt and Forty-nine Point Head . A Man's Track — They find it ^ A Man's Track — About to go j ' A Man's Track — Off . ^ A Man's Track — Settling Down j • • • Six Heads Killed on the Gander, September 1903 Preparing Heads ....■) Beaver Dam on the Upper Gander j Eley Brass Cartridges Chewed by Black Bears Sandy Butt at Work .... A Dream of Howley .... Diamond Cut Diamond .... Side View of Forty-four Point Headi The Forty-nine Pointer as he Fell / Forty-nine Point Head Shot near Little Gui.l Rn 1 Stagings on the Cliff . . . "> A Typical Village of the Outports I Fresh Cod •> Drying Fish j ■ ■ ■ • Newfoundland Dogs of the Present Day ^ The Fowls are Furnished, &c. . . -I Old Sweethearts ^ The Captain about to Fire at a Finback J The Captain of the Whaler "> Dusky Mallard or Black Duck / Facing p. RS ■» 28 33 48 S3 60 65 69 71 74 76 80 81 96 loi 108 113 119 135 138 ■47 158 161 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xin Various Whalks Spouting Facing p. A Shot at a Finback . A Fighting Humpback . Humpbacks at Play The Dying Flurry of the Blue Whale Harbingers of Winter . Joe Jeddore .... McGaw Fishing ■) Portaging a Canoe J Hauling over a Bad Pl.\ce on the Baie d'Est -^ Working up the Baie d'Est River . . .J ' "There Goes Four Hundred Dollars!" ■) No Dinner To-day . ... J Mount Cormack, the Centre of Newfoundland ) Mount Cormack from Pipestone Lake . . J Reuben Lewis, Head Chief of the Newfoundland Micmacs Net Otter Trap . 'i Deadfall for Otter J Trap for Lynx -j Trap for Fox or Marten / Sunlight in the Forest . "> Joe making an Otter Trap J The Source of the Gander "^ Joe Testing the Wind . .J Four Photographs showing Various Methods of Spying A Simple Snare for the Varying Hare .... Longhorned Stag Shot by the Author, September 1905 . Gralloching .....") Camp Scene on the Upper Gander J ' ' Stag's Head with Fine Brow Shovel Shot near Mig- well's Brook, September 1905 Thirty-four Pointer with Irregular Horns Shot near Little Gull River, September 1905 Belleoram ......... I Belleoram Breakw.\ter and View of the Iron Skull i Newfoundland Micmacs . "> How to Carry a Head to Camp j • ■ • • MicMAc Indians Packing with a Load of 120 lbs. The Midday Sleep on the Lake Edge . -i During the Rut the Herd St.'vg remains, &c. / 165 172 176 193 '95 199 202 206 209 211 213 220 222 224 225 227 240 243 247 250 259 270 275 279 XIV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS John Hinx and a large Thirty-five Pointer . . . Facingp. I called this Stag to within ten yards of the Camera^ The Love Chase / " Asleep . . „ Dawn . . ^ A Good Head J ' ' ' Great Deer Road near Mount Sylvester-) The Summit of Mount Sylvester . / ' Massive Thirty-five Pointer Shot near Jubilee Lake, -i October 1906 . . . . . • " • >> Mount Sylvester ........ J Thirty-nine Pointer Shot near Lake Tamnapegawi, \ October 1906 > . „ Side View of the Same ...... i Side View of the Forty-five Pointer Steve Bernard and the Forty-five Pointer Example of the Light-coloured Variety of Newfound- land Caribou ........ Rough Water on the Long Harbor River Forty-eight Point Head in the Possession of Sir R. G.-j Reid [ Forty-nine Point Horns picked up by Hesketh PRicHARoi Skulls and Horns of Female Caribou ... 1 Forty-eight Pointer Shot near the Bungalow, Grand \ Lake, 1906 1 Lichen Eaten by Caribou \ Maldow or Bearded Moss, a Favourite Winter Food - OF Caribou 1 The End of the Season, &c. \ Fox Playing with a Stag j ' Interlocked Antlers picked up by T. P. Miller near ^ Millais's Lake, September 1905 . . . . i The Forty-five Pointer . . . . \ Portaging Heads on the Long Harbor River J 282 286 289 291 293 29s 300 302 304 307 311 314 318 32s 327 33° MAPS Gander River and Country between Despair Bay and Glenwood ......... Newfoundland : Compass Sketch of Long Harbor River and Country between Middle Ridge and Fortune Bay 196 254 INTRODUCTION This volume is a hunter's book dealing mainly with the natural history and the chase of the wild animals and birds of Newfoundland ; but in addition to this I have endeavoured to set forth all that goes to make up the daily life of the people of that island and the Micmac Indians, purposely refraining from saying much on social life or of the various phases of Newfoundland politics. Rather have I tried to enter into the life of the true New- foundlander— the man of the outports — who throughout the year follows a variety of dangerous callings which build up characters of remarkable strength. Of the Micmacs I have made a special study, for their numbers, distribution, mode of life, trapping areas, and characteristics seem to be as little known as when Cormack wrote in 1822. The stories and conversations in this book are genuine, and not worked into the narrative for the sake of padding. I have only added such words and local phrases as served to make the tales consecutive and easily understood. In no country have I experienced such enjoyable hunting as in Newfoundland. Game I have always found abundant when once the distant hunting-grounds were reached. The men I have employed were one and all the best of com- panions and good fellows. To have been able to make an exhaustive study of the wild animals of the country, I am deeply grateful to the Bond Government, who, with a broad- mindedness one seldom encounters, have granted me the xvi INTRODUCTION special privilege of a natural history licence. This has allowed me to make extensive journeys which could not otherwise have been undertaken. My thanks are due to Sir Robert Bond, Mr. W. D. Reid, the Hon. John Harvey, the Hon. Edgar Bowring, and Mr. Henry Blair, and especially to Judge Prowse, who has at all times done everything in his power to further the success of my journeys with maps and information. I am also indebted to Mr. Alfred Gathorne Hardy and Mr. John McGaw for the use of photographs, and to the latter for his able collaboration in the map of Central Newfoundland. The centuries roll by, but our primal passions to chase and overcome the beasts of the field are just the same as when Fingal cried, "The desert is enough for me with all its woods and deer." In his mythological creed the Gael believed that the Spirits of the Dead found delight in pur- suing aerial deer over the mountains of the silent land, as well as those of the earth. The poet Ossian, too, says : " The departed children of earth pursue deer formed of clouds, and bend their airy bow. They still love the sport of their youth, and mount the wind with joy." Spiritualists tell us that in the future state we shall continue to lead the lives we have lived here, but with greater joy and wider scope. If this is so, the pleasure of chasing herds of giant megaceros on the astral plane will be no little consolation in the Great Unknown. J. G. MILLAIS. Horsham, 1907. „-.f«'A. "Shadows we are, and Shadows we Pursue" NEWFOUNDLAND AND ITS UNTRODDEN WAYS CHAPTER I INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY The Indians say that when Manitou, the Great Spirit, was making the Continent of the New World, he found that he had much material left over in the shape of rocks, swamps, and useless trees. So he formed a big rubbish heap by casting it all into the sea to the north-east, and called it Wee-soc-kadao. Several years after, Cabot discovered and claimed the island for Great Britain, when it was called Newfoundland. The world in general knows little of Newfoundland, and the average Englishman imagines it to be a little bit of a place somewhere near the North Pole, which, with two or three other colonies, could be safely stowed away behind the village pump. If he has been to school, he will have learnt that it is our oldest colonial possession, famous for codfish, caribou, and national debts. To him the island is inseparably connected with fogs, dogs, and bogs, just as he imagines Africa to be a "mass of lions mixed with sand." Should he wish to be still further enlightened as to its size, he will find that one cannot watch seals in the Straits of Belle Isle and walk down to tea at St. John's on the same day ; in fact, it is one-sixth larger than Ireland, and has an area of 42,000 square miles. Moreover, it may be of interest to know that A 2 NEWFOUNDLAND the Newfoundlanders are not black or red, but are of a good old English stock, and that they wash themselves twice a day. In reality Newfoundland is a most attractive place, with its thousands of lakes and pools ; picturesque streams teeming with salmon, trout, and ouananiche ; great open moors and marshes dotted with the ever restless herds of caribou. A wild sea-coast inhabited by thousands of sea-birds ; dense forests of varied and beautiful trees, all contribute to make the island one of the most delightful of all wild countries to the sportsman and the lover of Nature. There is more than a little fascination, too, in knowing that here is land, within seven days of England,^ a great part of whose interior has never been trodden by the white man, even by Government surveyors, and that you can plunge into this beautiful wilderness and feel all the delights of wandering at will through the recesses of an untrodden waste, where deer-stalking — and such deer too ! — may be pursued. It is perfect, because you can do it all by yourself, and not trust to your guides for this part of the hunt, as the New- foundlanders, though excellent fellows, are not well versed in the finer points of the art of venery. Here in these forests and barrens with their natural sanctuaries the caribou are holding their own — one of the few instances where the purely wild game of Europe and America are not decreasing. With the exception of some of the large animals, New- foundland contains much the same fauna as Canada. The ' It is hoped that in two years we shall have a fast route from Ireland to Green Bay in three days. Messrs. Ochs have entered into a contract with the Newfoundland Government to build seventeen-knot steamers which are to run every week. The credit of inventing and the carrying through of this important scheme is entirely due to Mr. H. C. Thomson. After many difficulties and much hard work it is satisfaction to his many friends that .Mr. Thomson may see his dreams of a quick-transit route realised. INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 3 black bear is still to be found there ; wolves are very rare, and lynxes increasing. The principal animal, however, which is of interest to the hunter and naturalist is the woodland caribou [Rangi/er tarandus ierrcs-nova), which is still ex- ceedingly abundant in spite of the persecution to which it is subjected. For its size, Newfoundland to-day contains more of these animals than any other part of the world ; and, owing to the nutritive qualities of its super-excellent caribou moss, the deer grow to a great size and in some respects throw out finer horns than any other form of the reindeer in existence, if we except only those of British Columbia, Alaska, and Labrador. In the autumn of 1900, my friend, Mr. F. C. Selous, the well-known hunter, being disappointed of what he saw of the annual Howley bombardment,^ made an expedition into the centre of the island, more as a sort of preliminary canter for a future visit than in the hope of catching up the migrating caribou, for which he had arrived too late. He was told that no one could get any distance into the interior owing to the difficulty of carrying food, and that he would most certainly get "bogged" before he had gone far. But difficulties of this kind presented no obstacles to a man who has spent his life in overcoming them ; so getting three men who were willing to follow him, he started off from Terra Nova in the middle of November. The tramp was assuredly a hard one, but it was not undertaken in vain. He killed one nice stag, and found certain signs in the interior near St. John's Lake that convinced him of the ' When the September migration sets in, hundreds of camps are set up near the railway to intercept the deer. The sport, if it may so be called, is dangerous alike to man and beast, but there are many brave men in the island. At least four hundred face death annually at Howley, Patrick's Marsh, and the Gaff Top- sails, and numerous accidents occur. 4 NEWFOUNDLAND existence of a southern herd, whose presence was unsuspected by either sportsman or naturalist, and which never journeyed north in the spring. On this expedition went one Robert Saunders as packer, a thoroughly reliable man, whom he engaged to visit this ground the following autumn, if it were possible to ascend the Terra-Nova River with canoes. So in the September following, Mr. Selous again went to Newfoundland, and after some trouble reached St. John's Lake, where he had excellent sport, killing all his five stags (one of them a splendid forty-two pointer) in one week. He saw but few deer, as the migration out of these east-central forests had only just commenced, but told me he believed that if I could get farther into the country to the west, which was quite unknown, I should probably strike the main trails of a big southern herd. All of this reasoning proved to be quite correct. Mr. Selous kindly engaged Robert Saunders and Jack Wells for me, the two men who had travelled with him, and he spoke of them in the highest terms. Only those who have been a journey or two to distant lands know how important it is to have the very best men in an expedition of this sort ; for there are a hundred occasions where just a little extra determination and just a little hard work are necessary to insure success. I arrived at St. John's on August 23. Mr. Reid, of the Newfoundland Railways, came to meet me, and offered me every assistance in his power. Next day Mr. Withers, a friend I had met in the boat coming out, introduced me to Mr. T. Murphy, the President of the Marine and Fisheries Department, and from him I received a permit to collect for scientific purposes such specimens as I required — an un- usual concession on the part of the Government, for which I was most erateful. ENTRANXE TCJ St. JciHX's llAKliOUk 'J'HK IlARliOUR FROM VHF. SuUTH INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 5 St. John's is a quiet old-world place, something between a Canadian town and a Norwegian fishing village. On one side of the beautiful harbour are endless cod-flakes and a few sealing vessels, and on the other is the main town, built on the side of a steep hill, where electric trams and lights add the one jarring note ; but the whole atmosphere of the place is charming and without noise. They discourage the American spirit there, and the man who wants to hustle soon breaks his heart. Business men stroll down to their ofifices at ten o'clock, and have always time for a cigar and chat. Life is very much as it was fifty years ago, with the addition of a few innovations which the people have been powerless to prevent. At the summit of the hill are splendid churches, which seem to give a certain tone of distinction to the place, and at the back of these are the houses of the more affluent. Beyond this we find agricultural scenery amidst rolling hills, and still farther, but not too far for a walk, are dense fir woods of peace and beauty. St. John's is really a charming city viewed from a distant spot such as the verandah of Judge Prowse's house, and after several visits I was never tired of this landscape. But to return to the city. The main thoroughfare is Water Street, where the traveller can obtain anything within reason. The shops are excellent and up-to-date, and the people extremely kind to strangers, especially when they come from the Old Country. The cabs are a feature of the place, and are drawn by wiry little Canadian horses. When you go up the steep hills you feel you ought to be prosecuted for cruelty to animals, and when you come down you wish you had never been born. You drop from the Cathedral to Water Street in one horrible swoop, scarcely reassured by the optimism of the Placentia Irishman who drives you, 6 NEWFOUNDLAND and who always makes a point of conversing at the most hair-raising corners. " Och ! slip is it?" he says; "sure if she was goin' down the sides of hell itself, she'd never put a fut wrong at all, at all. Kim up." In proof of which confi- dence in his steed, Bucephalus is urged to greater exertions. If you ask a policeman a simple question, he will not kill you with his club ; and even the tramcars are not run for the express purpose of murdering absent-minded strangers as they are in New York. Life, in fact, is quite safe as long as you keep clear of the accommodation train and " hert pie." I have mentioned " hert pie " as a danger to the traveller, because at every meal you get " hert pie," and it is so horribly good that many helpings are sure to follow in rapid succession, to the ultimate ruin of one's digestion. The daily papers are very funny, especially their items of local news, and — it need hardly be mentioned — a deadly enmity exists between the rival editors. Nevertheless they have several men in St. John's who have done and are still doing excellent press and magazine work on subjects relating to the people of Newfoundland, notably Mr. P. T. M'Grath, of the Herald, and Judge Prowse. The articles of these writers are always well-informed and accurate, and abound in the pathos and humour that go to make up the life of the men of the sea. The following items from the St. John's Howler are some specimens of another class of literature that daily meets the eye : — LOCAL HAPPENINGS Deer were plentiful at Topsail and Quidi-Vidi last week. Ananias P. Slechter of Providence, N.Y., shot a fine 72-pointer. Last night the white steam car belonging to Mr. W. D. Speed ran into a New York drummer on Water Street. The car will have to go to Boston for repairs. Robert Saunders INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 7 In future rotten potatoes will not be taken in lieu of monthly subscrip- tions. Cape Spear farmers please note. Happiness and woe are ever joined together in this Vale of Tears. With the announcement of his election to the constituency of Dirty Bay comes news of the bankruptcy (for the second time) of our esteemed townsman, Mr. Charles Sculpin. Sculpin has had a chequered career, but now that he has drifted into the harbour of peaceful affluence we trust that he will not forget his many long-suffering creditors. The life of Charles Sculpin may serve as a beacon light to the youth of this island, for, without education or the possession of those advantages which are supposed to conduce to success in life, he has reached a high pinnacle of fame, and now his foot is on the ladder he will not look back. There is some talk of making him Minister of Public Instruction. Another example of low thieving from our news column of last night occurs in the pages of the Terra-Nova Express this morning. The incompetent ass who sits in the editorial chair of that dull rag will leap with joy when he learns that the item in question relating to the death of the Czar of Russia was quite untrue, and purposely inserted to expose his infamous pilferings. News comes from the Labrador of the safety of the Painter-Glacier expedition which left St. John's on the lOth of this month. After a two days' stay in Battle Harbour, during which time they borrowed several boats and provisions from the missionaries of that place, the gallant explorers are returning in the Virginia Lake, and hope to arrive this evening. Forty-two new lakes, five rivers, and six new mountain ranges were noted and charted, and the members of the expedition speak in high terms of the admirable work achieved by Colonel Painter and Major- General Glacier. Arrangements for a lecture tour in the States are already in progress. Miss Clementina Codflakes, who has been visiting friends in town this week, returned to her home at Pushthrough yesterday. Despite the universal impressions to the contrary, the editor of this paper is always prepared to accept cash on subscriptions. Owing to an unfortunate error, we referred in a recent issue to that admirable vocalist, Miss Birdie St. Hilaire, commonly known as "Sure- 8 NEWFOUNDLAND death Birdie," and now on a visit to the island, as a "bony" warbler, when it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that we meant "bonny." Miss Birdie weighs somewhere about seventeen stone, so she arrived at our office a bit flustered yesterday, and demanded an explanation of our ungallant remarks. We need hardly say that Miss Birdie is far from being " bony," and is a perfect lady in every respect. My canoes, bed, boxes of stores, and waterproof sheet were all in readiness, so, leaving St. John's by the "accom- modation " train at four in the evening, I was turned out at Terra-Nova Station in the darkness at five the next morning. Close to the line was a wooden building, where a small boy of about eleven met me, rubbing his eyes. He said his name was " Mike," and that he was the stationmaster, his adopted father, one " Tim," being section man of this part of the line. Mike I found was a bit of a character, and I much enjoyed his chatter, and his views on the subject of Newfoundland in particular and life in general. " You'd like to see my friends ? " he said. " Yes, certainly," I replied, wondering who his friends could be in such an out-of-the-world corner. "Well, I'll bring them all ter breakfast with you," he remarked drowsily, folding his arms under the telegraphic instrument and composing himself for a few hours' sleep. Poor child, he wanted it ; up six nights a week, and with a heavy weight of responsibility on his little shoulders, no wonder he was tired. We snatched forty winks when a cheery voice from the door, saying, " Glad ye've come," woke me to see for the first time Bob Saunders and the handsome face of Jack Wells looking over his shoulder. It was nearly daylight by the time we had got all our kit down to the river bank, and started the kettle for break- INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 9 fast. Then the boxes were broken open, and we soon had an excellent meal in preparation, whilst Jack Wells littered the whole stock of supplies on the bank preparatory to sorting it all carefully in bags for disposition in the two canoes. It is necessary, perhaps, to say a word or two about my guides. Robert Saunders is a sturdy little man of about 5 feet 6 inches ; his face lined and beard grey, but there was also the unmistakable appearance that showed the man of vigour and energy in spite of its fifty-five years, which were all he would acknowledge. His manner was straightforward and his eyes possessed the honest and sincere look of absolute truth which is always found in the best men accustomed to hardship and the constant struggle with the forces of Nature. " Little Bob" had led a hard life if any man ever had in Newfoundland. In a country where toil in all weathers is the common lot, his life had been one of exceptional self-sacrifice, and what he had passed through was certainly beginning to tell on him. He had never spared himself, nor considered that he was more than some old pack-horse. Twenty years at the "ice fishing" (seal hunting), and packing and hunting in the woods in winter on wretched food, will try the strongest man when we consider that they are constantly wet through and allow their wet clothes to dry on their bodies. Yet he had survived it all while many of his fellows had fallen on one side, and thanked God daily that He was so good to him in giving him food to eat and a little croft with a good wife down at Alexander Bay. I liked Saunders very much at once, and still more so when I got to know him and his single-hearted efforts to do everything in his power to insure a pleasant time. Of a truth he looked a bit shy at me one evening when I got out my note-book to snatch one of his entertaining stories for future digestion, and I hoped he wouldn't notice it. But after a bit 10 NEWFOUNDLAND he evidently considered this no bar to our conversation round the fire, and rattled away when in the mood. Jack Wells, too, was also a good fellow. He had a hand- some, rather melancholy face, with a low, quiet way of talking that was very nice to listen to, and was both amiable and good-natured. I make a special point of this, because four days straight on end barking your shins and slipping off the greasy stones into the Terra-Nova would try the temper of an angel, and not once during those four days did I hear Saunders or Wells swear or complain that the work was beyond their powers, but took the discomfort to be the common lot of man. There is a saying that, to be uncomfortable without being unhappy, you must be either a philosopher or a woman with tight shoes. Yet neither Bob nor Jack were of this category. After the detestable fog of St. John's it was a great delight to sit and sip one's tea in the pellucid clearness of an autumn morning, waking to the sun's warmth, " Incalescente sole aperuisset diem," as old Caesar poetically describes the dawn of day. The grey mists were drifting off the river- lake, and showing up the green woods in the distance, when a splendid herring gull came sailing up along the shore and pitched within twenty yards of us. His arrival was the signal for the appearance of the "stationmaster," who with sundry outcries to his various friends was approaching our temporary camp. His "friends," I noticed, were all either four-footed or web-footed, for hurrying at his heels were two dingy-looking mongrels of undeterminable species, a billy and two nanny goats, a sheep, another gull, and far in the rear, endeavouring to keep pace over the logs of an abandoned saw-mill, three adipose ducks. Occasionally "Mike" would stop and call to his strange family in various ways, and they '4 y^ n^ ^^ fti. 0 Fl 1 Hjt- J^^F^ "fc *^ ^ ^■•iiH^^^ V^, \ .V H ^Hv^^heIS m Sk^ INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 11 hurried along according to the peculiar progression of each. It was a strange and pretty sight, and still more so when the herring gull, uttering his familiar " Waw-waw-waw " of his species, rose, flew up to the boy, and, with outstretched wings, ran before him to our fireside. " Well. I hope you've brought the entire menagerie, Mike," I said, as we offered to each some acceptable dainty. "Oh yes," replied the boy, with a sigh, as he poured him- self out a cup of tea. " They alius go with me everywhere, 'cept of course to trains. Trains is bad for birds. Goats and sheep can look after theirselves, but birds get kind of silly when ye pets 'em. Thar was Dan, a big gull like Jack thar (pointing to the grey bird), I had 'im fer three year, and he'd 'most come to bed wi' me, but his wing was cut, as I feared he'd go away altogether. But one day that blamed fool of a no account engine-man, Bill Straw, what can't drive for nuts, run over 'im 'ere in Turnover Station and cut his head off. I wudn't 'a' lost that bird fer ten dollars, an' Bill said he'd get me 'nother gull, but he never done it. Damn him," and little Mike sighed and expectorated reflectively. " How do you get the gulls, Mike ? " I inquired. " Oh, there's plenty come to nest here, summer time, but they're hard to rear. ' Jack ' thar, now, I took when he warn't no bigger than a chicken, and though he goes away winter for a few weeks, he alius comes back in the spring with the old grey and white fellers. I've had 'im three years now, and he's a splendid catch. Here, Jack, catch ! " said the little fellow, flinging a piece of bacon rind high into the air. The sharp-eyed gull instantly floated aloft, and caught the piece dexterously as it fell. " Tom now thar," continued my visitor, "he can't fly, as he's kind o' crippled in one wing, but he's a great runner ; " and to show his skill a piece of 12 NEWFOUNDLAND biscuit was hurled twenty yards away, to be instantly raced for, but Thomas, half running, half flying, proved an easy victor. "They're great friends to a feller," said the little man reflectively, adding as an afterthought — " when he ain't at work." Poor boy, they were about the only friends he had to talk to in all the comings and goings of the seasons, except when a passing hunter or fisherman came to beg an ounce of tobacco of the old section man. Mike helped us to stow the last of our packages aboard, and, wishing us good luck, we left behind the last trace of civilisation in his lonely little figure meditatively "chucking" rocks for the happy family to retrieve. The morning was beautifully fine, with no wind, so we made good time with the canoes pushing along the river- lake for some miles before we emerged into the large Terra- Nova Lake, a fine sheet of water about five miles long and one and a half across. We landed on a shingly beach to readjust some of the stores that were not riding well, and here I saw the fresh track of a small bear, the first sign of the wild game, always an inspiriting sign to every hunter. At the west end of the lake, where the river comes in, we stopped and had dinner, and then on again up a dead stream for another ten miles or so until sunset. In some places I had to land whilst the men dragged the canoes, and here I always found some fairly fresh sign of caribou. By sunset we halted, and the men made a comfortable camp in a " droke " (belt) of spruce close to the water ; and though wet to the waist they did not change their clothes, but lay down soaking as they were, and allowed the fire to steam the water out. Next day it was a case of walking up along the stones of the river bed, while Saunders and Jack dragged the canoes Rough PLACK^i ox thi-. Ti i:kA-Ni)V\ 1 Bin i H ^^^M^^^*^ ^^^^^^^^ M .><»f.,nl iP I^Si?'-^^r" ' -_:^_v4(t . ■■'T^ A^?^ --\». ^ f| \iSS»=* "'"2 ■Em.»''*^ w j^^^n)4*)^P ■ ~~ '^ a^M pt^lsSifeli^V 1. . - ^MMB^ ^^^^^^H J^BHin- :_'-': 'M ^ atP"sn IB w^wUk y^*m^ ^^psflHls^~~~ - ' ->l ^er-^ M*^ ■'■^ Ah V -^"3B''i^ msiir^ M!^m ^ s^-z: -^^.>>ai HuftnJ Ij ■ ^^MM^xM^ii^ ^^L^B^^^k^^^lQ^Bvpi^^^^^^^^^^^^EH^^ ■j 1 pBj^^^^^W ■^ E '^^^^Snt. J Haulixc. Over the Shallows INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 13 through almost continuous rapids the whole day. To prevent the canoes and their contents from being upset the men were constantly in the water hauling and easing the boats, whilst on the slippery rocks they kept frequently slittering and falling up to their middle the whole day. It was coarse work, and of a kind that none save those inured to hardship could stand. " Jest dog's work," was Saunders' definition of the business. About midday I sat down by the side of the river to await the coming of the boats. They were close at hand when I heard Saunders shout, and looking up stream saw a fair-sized caribou stag rushing through the shallows about 150 yards away. My rifle lay resting against a bush, and by the time I had seized it the chance was gone. After dinner the river bed became worse and worse, and the men had to spend all their time amongst very bad rocks, whilst in one part I had to take to the forest to get along. Newfoundland forest is not like that of any other country ; it is principally composed of spruce and white pine, with a few larch, var, birch, dogwood, and maple scattered amongst them ; and the trees, though not large, are placed so close together, and interspersed with so many fallen ones, that progress is excessively arduous. I was getting along pretty well when, chancing to stand on the top of a large fallen white pine, the bark suddenly gave way and I was precipitated over a high rock on to the ground. Natural instinct compels one to save one's face with the arm and whatever it holds. Unfortunately in this case the Mann- licher rifle was the interposing object, with the result that the stock snapped clean off close to the action. This was disgusting, to say the least of it, before one had fired a shot. I had no other rifle, and for the moment I doubted my capacity to mend the weapon. Saunders, however, was nothing 14 NEWFOUNDLAND if not a man of resource, and after a protracted search in his voluminous pockets he produced a screw nail about one inch long, and, with the aid of a tailor's needle straightened in the fire, we drilled a hole in the brittle walnut stock and made a very fair mend of the broken weapon. This was lashed with string until we killed a caribou stag, when a piece of raw hide sewn tightly round the narrow part of the stock made things as firm as ever. However, it gave me a lesson, and I shall not travel again without a spare ritle. In the evening we reached the beautiful waterfall of the Terra-Nova, where, after a stiff portage straight up the hill and through the forest, we made camp again near the upper river. The early part of the next day was especially hard on the men. The stream was so swift and rocky that the canoes had to be dragged every inch of the way for the two miles that intervened before Ollygo Lake was reached. I, too, had no little difficulty in making way through the forest, for the deep water on the forest edge often forced me to take to the hillside. Along this part of the stream I saw many fritillary butter- flies, and at the entrance of Mollygojack Lake there was a fair number of birds. Belted kingfishers, goosanders, red-breast mergansers, Canada geese, and yellow-shank sandpipers were occasionally moved on the river ; whilst on the lakes of Mollygojack and St. John's I noticed a good many dusky ducks {Anas obsacrus), the northern form of our mallard. Grebes, probably Sclavonians, interested me also, great northern divers, buzzards, peregrine falcon, merlin, and for the first time the magnificent bald-headed eagle, or bird of Washington, made its appearance. In the woods we heard the rattle of and occasionally saw the beautiful golden-winged and three-toed woodpeckers, whilst in camp at night the horned eagle-owl INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 15 serenaded us with his melancholy hoots. Twice I flushed these big birds in the daytime, and they flopped slowly away as if disturbed out of a siesta. Sometimes as I crept through the wood at dawn something would impel me to look up, and meet a pair of great golden eyes that surveyed the intruder with intense disapproval. The hawk-owl, too, was some- times seen perched on a withered tree, from which point of vantage he searched the ground for voles. As yet we had not met that delightfully cheeky fellow, the Canadian wood jay, moose-bird, or whisky jack, as he is variously named ; but of him more anon. Mollygojack Lake is a fine large sheet of water, roughly speaking about twenty miles round, and the surrounding forests are a great summer house of the woodland caribou. It has one or two pretty little islands, where the great northern divers evidently breed (I saw two females with young ones close to them), and it took us till evening to reach the western end where we camped for the night. Here was plenty of fresh sign of caribou, but not too fresh, so we decided not to hunt but to move on next day to St. John's Lake, on which our hopes were centred, at the camp where Selous had killed his deer. We made an early start the next day, August 28, up the eight or ten miles of lake-river which separates Mollygojack from St. John's Lake, and which was only difficult for short distances. Our midday dinner was taken on the river about half-way, when shortly after re-starting I saw something move behind a large rock on the left bank about 300 yards up stream. In another moment the head of a doe caribou appeared and again disappeared, so we rushed the canoe under the shelter of a projecting headland, and I landed. After leaving Saunders and signalling to Jack to keep out of sight, 16 NEWFOUNDLAND I crawled up along the stones, and immediately saw the doe standing in nearly the same spot. She was still 250 yards away, so to make sure of our meat I took advantage of another miniature headland, and crawled on to make a closer acquaintance. There was little cover, but the caribou took no precautions for her safety, and allowed me to come within 80 yards without once raising her head for observation. A nice rock to shoot from presented itself at this corner, so, pressing the trigger, I had the satisfaction of seeing the deer drop dead in her tracks. On a fresh trip, with new men, it is always a satisfactory thing to kill the first animal at which you fire, as it gives confidence to your followers and creates a favourable impression, so I took as much care over the easy shot at that wretched doe as if I was firing at a fifty- pointer. We had some fresh meat now, and after photographing the animal we cut it up, and then paddled away in high spirits for St. John's Lake, which we reached about five o'clock. We had made good progress, but desired to complete the whole distance to the end of the lake before nightfall, so pressed on. On the way up the lake we passed four more doe caribou gazing into the water, like some others of their sex, apparently lost in admiration of their loveliness as reflected by Nature's mirror. One old lady allowed us to go by within 15 yards, and seemed in nowise upset at our presence, as she had not got our wind. At last our temporary Ultima Thule hove in sight, the river mouth at the west end, and I immediately recognised the Indians' observation tree, which Selous had told me to look out for — a gnarled and bent old white pine, standing out in picturesque solitude from the forest of spruce. As we moved up to the landing-place a caribou doe was wading in the shallows about 300 yards away. She swam slowly across A FiNh OLD Pine, .Sr. John's Lake A MiCMAC Wigwam INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 17 the glassy river, and, after shaking herself like a great dog, wandered up into the timber right past the very spot where we were to make our home for a week. There is little doubt that a family party of Micmacs came annually to this corner of the lake, and trapped during the winter. Next morning Saunders and I, poking about in the forest close at hand, came on their house, which had been used during the past season. It was a carefully constructed "tepee" of spruce poles, beautifully lined inside with birch bark and quite impervious to rain or snow. We saw here, too, a large hollowed pine which had been cut out for a trough, in which tanning had been made for curing caribou skins. Those skins had been then sewn together, and used as a covering for a canoe. Saunders assumed that these were some of the regular hunting Indians, which come all the way from the south coast in the late fall. Later on in this work I give an account of the Micmacs, but a word or two about their predecessors may not be out of place. Recorded history enables us to go back as far only as the first appearance of European explorers, who visited the island about four hundred years ago. The " Red Indians," or Beothicks, were then the occupants of the soil, and they were said to resemble in every respect the indigenous tribes of North America, and were probably of the same stock as the Algonquins. The Beothicks had straight black hair, high cheek bones, small black eyes, and a copper-coloured skin. In hunting and fishing modes they also resembled the natives of the neighbouring continent, and their weapons, wigwams, and domestic utensils were also similar. Ethnologists are not quite agreed as to the nature of their language, but it is generally accepted that they were probably a small branch 18 NEWFOUNDLAND of the warlike Algonquins, who at that time were the masters of the north-eastern continent of Canada. Cabot landed on Newfoundland in 1497, and found the Beothicks a numerous and powerful race. Having practically no enemies, and being naturally ingenious and gentle mannered, he found them extremely friendly and anxious to show the white voyagers any hospitality. The rivers and seas of the country at that time swarmed with fish, and through the forests and barrens the countless herds of caribou roamed in comparative security. Consequently the Indians practised no agriculture, but lived a life of, to an Indian, great luxury, without the necessity of any form of toil. But after a short few years of peace the same old story was repeated here, as everywhere in the world, where the white man comes and wishes to make the country all his own. Quarrels arose between the whites and the reds, followed by the usual deeds of violence, and a bitter enmity that could only end in the ultimate extermination of one race or the other. As usual, too, the white man, with his superior brains and superior weapons of destruction, had the best of it. Yet the Beothicks held out through some three hundred years, during which time they were often treated with the greatest brutality, which was as frequently returned with equal savagery. When the white men had at length exterminated two- thirds of the Indians, they became filled with a commendable spirit of conciliation, and from 1760 to 1S23 many attempts were made to live on friendly terms with the men of the woods. But it was too late. Experience had taught them to hate the white man with a deadly hatred, and they now, after centuries of war, found it impossible to accept any advances of kindness. Broken and in despair the last of the Beothicks retreated to the shores of Red Indian Lake, INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 19 where they perished slowly one by one till not a single member was left. It is necessary to say a few words concerning the first writer upon the Beothicks. Captain Richard Whitbourne, of Exmouth, after having served as captain of his own ship against the Spanish Armada in 1588, made many voyages to Newfoundland for the purpose of fishing and establishing colonies there. He made his first voyage to that country in 1582, with the intention of trading with "the savage people" and killing whales. He says of it: "But this our intended Voyage was overthrown by the indiscretion of our captaine, and faint-heartedness of some Gentlemen of our Company. Whereupon we set sail from thence and bare into Trinity Harbour in Newfoundland : where we killed great store of Fish, Deere, Beares, Beavers, Seales, Otters, and such like, with abundance of sea-fowle : and so returning for England, we arrived safe at Southampton."^ On his second voyage in 1586 the gallant Captain had the command of a " worthy shipp, set forth by one Master Crooke of Southampton." He witnessed the taking posses- sion of Newfoundland by Sir Humphrey Gilbert in the name of Queen Elizabeth. After this he made many interesting voyages to Newfoundland. One of the most striking passages in his book relates to his meeting and detention by the famous arch-pirate, Peter Easton, " whom I did persuade much to desist from his evil course." It is interesting to note that in 1608 one of Captain Whitbourne's ships was intercepted ' " A Discourse and Discovery of Newfoundland, with many reasons to prove how worthy and beneficiall a Plantation may be there made, after a far better manner than now it is — together with the laying open of certaine enormities and abuses committed by some that trade to that countrey, and the means laid down for reformation thereof." By Capt. Richard Whitbourne of Exmouth in the county of Devon. London, 1622. Republished in 1870 at Guildford by Mr. Thomas Whitbourne under the title of "Westward Hoe for the New-found-land." 20 NEWFOUNDLAND by an " English erring Captaine (that went forth with Sir Walter Rawleigh)." The distinction between " an arch- pirate" and "an English erring Captaine" does not seem to be very clear. Another point in this quaint book which he wrote upon his travels is of great interest to naturalists, for it refers to the Great Auk {Alee impennis), now, alas, extinct, but which formerly existed in great numbers on Funk Island, off the north-east coast of Newfoundland. These birds were always known as "Penguins" by the inhabitants, and I once met an old fisherman whose father possessed a stuffed specimen. He himself used to ride on the back of the bird as a little boy, little knowing that within his lifetime such things would be worth four and five hundred pounds. "These penguins," says Captain Whitbourne, "are as bigge as geese, and flye not, for they have but a little short wing, and they multiply so infinitely upon a certaine flat island, that men drive them from thence upon a boord, into their boats by hundreds at a time : as if God had made the innocency of so poore a creature to become such an admirable instrument for the sustenation of man." He thus describes the Beothicks and their habits : — " For it is well knowne, that they are a very ingenious and subtill kinde of people so likewise are they tractable as hath beene well approved, when they have beene gently and politically dealt withal : also they are a people that will seek to revenge any wrongs done unto them or their woolves, as hath often appeared. For they marke their woolves in the eares with several markes, as is used here in England on sheepe, and other beasts, which hath been likewise approved : for the woolves in those parts are not so violent and devouring as woolves are in other countries. For no man that I ever Makv March Beothick Caxoe (From the A/oi/e/ in the Edinburgh Museum) INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 21 heard of, could say that any woolfe, leopard,^ beare or any other beasts did ever set upon any man or boy in the New- found-land, although divers times some men have been by themselves in the woods, when they have suddenly come near unto them and those Beasts have presently upon sight of any Christian speedily run from them." This close association of a friendly character between dogs and wolves has long been known in Newfoundland, where amongst early writers it seems to have been a matter of surprise. Writing in 1622, Captain Whitbourne says that the wolves frequently came down to the seashore when his men were labouring amongst the fish, and that on each occasion his mastiff dog ran to them. " The one began to fawne and play with the other, and so went together into the Woods, and continued with them, every of these times, nine or ten dayes and did return unto us without any hurt. Hereof I am in no way superstitious, yet is something strange to me that the wild beasts, being followed by a sterne Mastiff-dogge, should grow to familiaritie with him, seeing their natures are repugnant : surely much rather the people by our discreet and gentle usage, may bee brought to society being already naturally inclined thereunto." Later he gives some particulars of utensils, weapons, canoes, &c., used by the Indians : — " For it is well Knowne, that the Natives of those parts have great store of red Okar, wherewith they use to colour their bodies, Bowes, Arrowes and Cannowes, in a painting manner : which cannowes are their Boats, that they use to go to Sea in, which are built in shape like the Wherries on the River of Thames, with small timbers, no thicker nor ' This plainly refers to the existence of the Canada lynx {Lynx Canadensis) in the island at this date. 22 NEWFOUNDLAND broader than hoopes : and instead boords, they use the barkes of Birch trees, which they sew very artificially and close to- gether, and then overlay the seams with Turpentine, as Pitch is used on the Seams of Ships and Boats. And in like manner they use to sew the barkes of Spruise and Firre trees, round and deepe in proportion like a Brasse kettle, to boyle their meat in, as it hath been well approved by divers men : but most especially to my certaine knowledge, by three Mariners of a Ship of Tapson, in the county of Devon : which Ship riding there at anchor neere by mee, at the Harbour called Heartsease, on the North side of Trinity Bay, and being robbed in the night, by the Savages, of their apparell, and divers other provisions, did the next day seeke after them, and happen to come suddenly where they had set up three Tents, and were feasting, having three such Cannowes by them, and three pots made of such rinds of trees, standing each of them on three stones boyling, with twelve Fowles in each of them, every Fowl as big as a widgeon, and some so big as a Ducke : they had also many such pots, so sewed and fashioned like leather Buckets, that are used for quenching of fire, and those were full of the yolkes of Egges, that they had taken and boyled hard, and so dryed small as it had been powder Sugar, which the Savages used in their Broth, as sugar is often used in some meates. They had great store of the skins of Deers, Beavers, Beares, Scales, Otters, and divers other fine skins, which were excellent well dressed : as also great store of several sorts of flesh dryed, and by shooting off a Musket towards them, they all ran away naked, without any apparell, but onely some of them had their hats on their heads which were made of seale skinnes, in fashion like our hats, sewed handsomely, with narrow bands about them set round with INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 23 fine white shells. All their three Cannowes, their flesh, skins, yolkes of Egges, Targets, Bowes and Arrowes, and much fine Okar, and divers other things they tooke and brought away and shared it amongst those that tooke it, and they brought to me the best Cannowe. . . ." Captain Whitbourne tells us that in 1622 the distribution of the Beothicks was over the north-west parts of the island, and on the east side as far south as Trinity Bay. Two hundred years later when Cormack wrote, the Indians had retired altogether from White Bay, Green Bay, and the east coast, but were still in the north and central parts. Whitbourne states that in his time the ships did not fish in Trinity Bay, partly on account of the rocky ledges, but chiefly because "the savage people of that Countrey doe there inhabit : many of them secretly every year, come into Trinity Bay and Harbour, in the night-time, purposely to steal Sailes, Lines, Hatchets, Hooks, Knives and suchlike." On page 2 Whitbourne says: "The naturall Inhabitants of the Countrey, as they are but few in number : so are they something rude and savage people : having neither knowledge of God, nor living under any kinde of civill government. In their habits customes and manners they resemble the Indians of the Continent, from whence (I suppose) they come : they live altogether in the North and West part of the Country, which is seldome frequented by the English : but the French and Biscaines (who resort thither yearly for the Whale fishing, and also for the cod fish) report them to be an ingenious and tractable people (being well used) they are ready to assist them with great labour and patience, in the killing, cutting and boyling of Whales and making the traine oyle, without expectation of other reward, than a little bread, or some such small hire." 24 NEWFOUNDLAND Later Lieutenant John Cartwright, a brother of the famous Captain Cartwright of Labrador, was sent on an expedition up the Exploits River in 1768, and obtained a little infor- mation of the habits of the Red Indians.' Soon after this Captain Buchan went twice up the Exploits to Red Indian Lake, and on the first occasion had two of his marines killed. In the winter of 18 10 Captain Buchan forced an interview with the Beothicks on Red Indian Lake. Hostages were exchanged, but on the Captain retiring to bring up some presents which he had left at a depot, the Indians became suspicious, fearing he had gone to obtain reinforcements with which to surround and capture them. In consequence they murdered the two white men that had remained in their hands and retired into the interior. Captain Buchan was mystified to find that the Indians had departed on his return, and the whole story was not made clear until 1828, when the particulars were explained by Shawnawdithit. In the year 1828 there was a society in St. John's known as the Beothick Institution, whose business it was to com- municate with and if possible civilise the Red Indians, as well as to ascertain the habits and history of that "unhappy race of people." The President was W. E. Cormack, who took a kindly interest in the fate of the Indians, and who became so interested in them that he undertook a journey to Red Indian Lake for the purpose of establishing com- munication with the Red men. On October 31, 1828, he entered the country at the north of the Exploits in company with three Indians — an Abenakie from Canada, a mountaineer from Labrador, and a Micmac from the south coast of New- foundland. He took a north-westerly route to Hall's Bay, ' Report of the Beothicks, MS. by Lieutenant J. Cartwright, 1768. INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 25 which he reached in eight days, passing the country interior from New Bay, Badger Bay, and Seal Bay, a district well known as the summer resort of the Indians. On the fourth day he found traces of the savages in the shape of canoe- rests, spear-shafts, and rinded " vars," — " This people using the inner part of the bark of that kind of tree for food." On the lakes near New Bay were the remains of winter mamaieeks or wigwams, each intended to hold from six to twenty people. Close to these were oblong pits about four feet deep, designed to preserve stores, &c., some of them being lined with birch rind. In his report^ Cormack mentions the peculiar vapour baths of which he also found traces at this place, and whose use was afterwards explained to him by Shawnawdithit. " The method used by the Beothicks to raise the steam, was by pouring water on large stones made very hot for the purpose, in the open air, by burning a quantity of wood around them ; after this process, the ashes were removed, and a hemispherical framework, closely covered with skins to exclude the external air, was fixed over the stones. The patient then crept in under the skins, taking with him a birch-rind bucket of water, and a small bark dish to dip it out, which, by pouring on the stones, enabled him to raise the steam at pleasure." Shawnawdithit ex- plained that the steam bath was only used by old and rheumatic people. After traversing the country on the high lands south of White Bay without finding further traces of the Indians, whom he had expected to encounter near the passes of the deer now in full migration, Cormack travelled to Red Indian ' Report of W. E. Cormack's Journey in Search of the Red Indians in New- foundland. Read before the Beothick Institution at St. John's, Newfoundland. Communicated by Mr. Cormack, Edinburgh. I\,'cw Phil. Journ., vol. xx., 1S28-29, pp. 318-329. 26 NEWFOUNDLAND Lake, but to his great disappointment, he found it had been deserted for some years by the Indians, "after being tor- mented by Europeans for the last eighteen years." After further search on the Exploits River, Cormack returned to the north on November 29 without having seen a single Red Indian. Amongst other interesting relics of these people which Cormack presented to the Beothick Institution was a vocabulary of the Beothick language, consisting of two hundred to three hundred words. This was supposed to have been given by Cormack to a Dr. Yates, but I have failed to trace the list, or the descendants of the recipient, which would go far to prove " the Beothicks to be a distinct tribe from any hitherto discovered in North America." During his stay at Red Indian Lake, Cormack found many recent traces of the Beothicks which show their modes of life, treatment of the dead, methods of hunting deer, &c. " One difference," he says, " between the Beothick wig- wams and those of other Indians is, that in most of the former there are small hollows, like nests, dug in the earth around the fire-place, one for each person to sit in. These hollows are generally so close together, and also so close to the fire-place and to the sides of the wigwam, that I think it probable these people have been accustomed to sleep in a sitting position." He also found a large handsome birch-rind canoe, about 22 feet in length, comparatively new.' In its construction iron nails had been used, doubtless stolen from the white settlers. John Hinx, a half-breed Micmac, who was present when ' I am enabled to give a photograph of the model of this curiously shaped canoe by the courtesy of the Director of the Royal Scottish Museum, Edinburgh. In form it is quite unlike the birch-bark canoes used by the Canadian tribes, being high raised at the bow and stern. The interior has sheets of birch rind. The exterior is of deal planking. INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 27 several of the old wigwam sites were unearthed, has told me that the tloors of these abodes were sunk a foot or two beneath the ground, which was polished smooth and had turf seats. On this floor the family slept and kept their fire alight, one member always being deputed to keep watch. The lower part of the skin covering was raised from the ground, and all vegetation removed for a considerable distance, so that in case of surprise the Indians could bend low with- out fear of being seen or shot, and send a flight of arrows at any invader. Their cleverness is shown by the way in which they constructed their retreat. A tunnel, sometimes 30 and 40 yards long, was burrowed from the wigwam into the woods, and by this means the Indians retired when the fight went against them. They used pots of iron and a few other simple utensils. "Their wooden repositories for the dead," says Cormack, " are what are in the most perfect state of preservation. These are of different constructions, it would appear, according to the character or rank of the persons entombed. In one of them, which resembled a hut 10 feet by 8 or 9, and 4 or 5 feet high in the centre, floored with squared poles, the roof covered with rinds of trees, and in every way well seasoned against the weather inside, and the intrusion of wild beasts, there were two grown persons laid out at full length on the floor, the bodies wrapped round with deer- skins. One of these bodies appeared to have been placed here not longer ago than five or six years." Cormack's most surprising discovery in one of these dead-houses was "a white deal affair, containing a skeleton neatly shrouded in white muslin. After a long pause of con- jecture how such a thing existed here, the idea of Mary 28 NEWFOUNDLAND March'^ occurred to one of the party, and the whole mystery was at once explained." In the cemetery were deposited alongside the bodies two small wooden images of a man and a woman, doubtless meant to represent husband and wife, also a small doll, a pathetic emblem of Mary March's child which died two days after the capture of its mother ; several small models of canoes, two small models of boats, an iron axe, a bow and quiver of arrows, birch-rind cooking utensils, and two fire-stones (radiated iron pyrites), from which the Beothicks produced fire by striking them together. Another mode of sepulture described by Cormack was for the body of the deceased to be wrapped in birch rind, with his property placed on a sort of scaffold about 4I feet from the ground, in a manner still employed by some of the Western American tribes. A third method was to bend the body together and enclose it in a kind of box laid on the ground, and a fourth to simply wrap ' Mary March, so called from the name of the month in which she was taken, was a Red Indian woman who was captured at Mary March's Brook, near Red Indian Lake, by an armed party of Newfoundlanders in March i8og. This was the immediate result of the Government's offer of a reward to any persons who would bring a Red Indian to them. Her husband was cruelly shot, "after nobly making several attempts, single-handed, to rescue her from the captors, in defiance of their fire-arms and fixed bayonets." The body of this red hero was found by Cormack resting beside his wife in one of the cemeteries at Red Indian Lake. The following winter. Captain Buchan was sent to the River Exploits, by order of the local govern- ment of Newfoundland, to take back this woman to the lake where she was captured, and if possible at the same time, to open friendly intercourse with her tribe. But she died on board Captain Buchan's vessel at the mouth of the river. Captain Buchan, however, took her body to the lake, and not meeting with any of her people, left it where they were afterwards most likely to meet with it. It appears the Indians were this winter encamped on the banks of the River Exploits, and observed Captain Buchan's party passing up the river on the ice. They retired from their encampment in consequence, and some weeks afterwards went by a circuitous route to the lake to ascertain what the party had been doing there. They found Mary March's body, and removed it from where Captain Buchan had left it to where it now lies, by the side of her husband. The FiKbT Stag's Head (in \'llvki) ^ mp ^ 1^^^ Wf* ^w ^Hil^^^^^^^l ^^^1 ^H^ ' ^- s ^^^B^K^-'-*" '^HMRVn HflPHH ^Hpc""'!. f t.^dfe'-^l lf%---. HHHE<^<£>'i^>^ -jpnT 1 ', .- ^■• ;i 1^^ "*■'-■■,':■: IjjHiS^^^^ L «»- ^ ^J^c^^i^ B^^ ^S|i>' '. '^^||H^^^^|B|k, L. . .^^PpHl ^SM A Goou Stag INTO THE TERRA-NOVA COUNTRY 29 the body in birch rind and cover it with a heap of stones. Cormack thus describes the long deer fences made by the Beothicks, and their method of killing the caribou : " On the north side of the lake, opposite the River Exploits, are the extremities of two deer fences, about half a mile apart, where they lead to the water. It is understood that they diverge many miles in north-westerly directions. The Red Indians make these fences to lead and scare the deer to the lake, during the periodical migration of these animals ; the Indians being stationed looking out, when the deer get into the water to swim across, the lake being narrow at this end, they attack and kill the animals with spears out of their canoes. In this way they secure their winter provisions before the severity of that season sets in. . . . What arrests the attention most, while gliding down the stream (the Exploits), is the extent of the Indian fences to entrap the deer. They extend from the lake downwards, continuous on the banks of the river, at least thirty miles. There are openings left here and there in them, for the animals to go through and swim across the river, and at these places the Indians are stationed, and kill them in the water with spears, out of their canoes, as at the lake. Here, then, connecting these fences with those on the north-west side of the lake, is at least forty miles of country, easterly and westerly, prepared to intercept the deer that pass that way in their periodical migrations. It was melancholy to contemplate the gigantic, yet feeble, efforts of a whole primitive nation, in their anxiety to provide subsistence, forsaken and going to decay." A Red Indian woman, named Shawnawdithit,^ was living near the Exploits River with some white people at this ' Sometimes called Shandithit. 80 NEWFOUNDLAND time, and through the interest of the Beothick Institution she was sent to St. John's. Cormack kept this woman in his house all the winter of 1828, eliciting information from her and making notes, which have most unfortunately been lost. After leaving Cormack's house, Shawnawdithit went to reside with a merchant at Twillin- gate, where she lived for a few years. She never became a Christian, and at her death was buried in a log hut on the banks of the Exploits, where the woodpeckers and the passing deer are the only visitors. A portrait, albeit a very poor one, was taken of Mary March by Lady Hamilton, and is of interest as the only representation of a Beothick in existence. I am enabled to give it by the kindness of Mr. Albert Bradshaw. CHAPTER II CARIBOU HUNTING NEAR LAKE ST. JOHN With such excellent sign of deer on all sides we made sure that it would not be long before we saw our first stag, but in this we were woefully disappointed. We stayed a week in Selous' camp, tramping miles every day up the river, through the forest, and on to the high ground, without seeing a single stag, and only one fresh track of a big fellow, and of him, I believe, I just caught a glimpse as he disappeared into a dense alder bed. Soon I became weary of thrashing around in this forest-bound country, and sighed for a place where I could wander about in the open and look for things with my tele- scope. Far to the north-west I could see with the glass an inviting-looking country where the white men had never been — so Saunders said, and Saunders had penetrated farther than any one in the swampy regions. So we decided to move on, as my guide said we could easily cut a road with the axe up to the high ground, and that we should be nearly sure in time to strike the main leads of the caribou that were known to journey south-west from the eastern forests. It sounded inviting, so we left the next morning, September 4, and paddled to the northern corner, where a brook came in. A disposition of the stores was soon made, and we started, carrying bed, waterproof sheet, and food for three days. This was enough for the present, for if things looked well Jack could keep coming back to the lake to fetch whatever we wanted. Saunders went in front with his axe and cut a path 31 32 NEWFOUNDLAND for us to follow, but as we advanced to the higher ground this became unnecessary owing to the presence of heavily indented caribou leads, which got broader and more numerous as we proceeded. Near the upper edge of the forest the deer roads were so numerous and had been so well used for years past that Saunders was in the highest spirits, for these, he said, must be the main trails of which he had sus- pected the existence somewhere in the neighbourhood. About midday we emerged on to beautiful undulating high ground covered with blueberries and a short bush called loailly "goudie." We had hardly done so when four caribou does came to look at us. A little farther on, two others came for a close inspection, and though we now wanted meat badly (having eaten the best part of the doe I had previously killed), I resisted the temptation to fire, as I hoped to see a stag very soon. Everything now looked so promising that I sent Jack back to the boats to get more supplies, having determined to make a standing camp here. Even if I waited a month, I knew the stags were bound to come this way sooner or later. After a hurried meal, Saunders and I set off to find the highest point above our camp, and soon selected a large stone from whence a splendid view could be obtained for three or four miles in any direction. Many of the main trails led up from the woods below, and anything moving out must be detected. Nor was there long to wait. Almost as soon as I had got the glass out I spotted a doe and a calf walking uphill, then another snow-white object on the edge of the woods revealed another female, and a few minutes later two more were to be seen moving slowly uphill about a mile to the left. The glass was here of the greatest < ; CARIBOU HUNTING 83 assistance, for I counted no less than fifteen doe caribou coming out of the woods before my companion had seen one. The migration of the females had evidently just com- menced, for they all passed uphill to the west, and then as I afterwards found, swung away to the south-west. It was growing late, but was one of those perfect autumn evenings that tempt a man just to sit and enjoy the play of light and shade on distant hill and forest. Saunders talked away of his seal-hunting days, and I was quite happy enjoying the landscape, working the glass or watching the gaggles of Canadian geese that frequently passed us, for this country was evidently a great breeding- ground. In a little while it would be too dark to see, and there really seemed no chance of a stag showing up. It was too warm, and they were all up by this time in the forests, munching the moss that grows so luxuriantly within a few yards of their now well-worn beds. " A' don't believe there's a blessed stag outside the woods in Newfun'lan'," said Saunders, yawning as he lay on his back chewing blueberries and, as he expressed it, " tired o' lookin'." " Well," I replied, " I believe there's one anyhow. Bob," for at that moment I had caught in the glass the white stern of a deer feeding about a mile below in a little marsh. A small bit of horn stuck out at one side, though his head seemed half-hidden in a peat-hole. I kept the glass fixed, and in a minute he turned sideways and revealed the form and antlers of a caribou stag, and a big one too. At last ! There he was, feeding right in the open and the wind perfect. Just the sight every hunter longs for! Leaving Saunders with the glass to watch events, I hurried down the hill and easily kept out of sight even in a stooping position 34 NEWFOUNDLAND till within 400 yards of the beast. A momentary glimpse showed him to be still feeding, so I went on slowly in a crouching attitude till within 300 yards. Here I found it necessary to crawl for about 200 yards, and getting a large rock between myself and the deer found on peeping round the edge of a stone that I was within 90 yards. There was evidently no hurry, so I sat down and enjoyed my first view of one of the grandest beasts in existence feeding unconcernedly at a short distance. During five minutes he only once raised his head, and then only to take a stupid and sleepy survey of his sur- roundings as the wet moss dropped out of the sides of his mouth. How splendid his long shovels and bays looked as he assumed a dignified attitude against the yellow sunset ! But I could not leave him longer as the light was going fast, so getting a good sitting position against the rock, I put the white foresight on his heart and fired. Looking up, to my surprise I saw that the stag had never moved except to raise his head, and thinking that I must have missed, I fired again at once and saw four great feet kicking in the air. He was dead as soon as I got up. Certainly not one of the best, but nevertheless as I afterwards learned, he carried a good head. The horns were still in the velvet, and the beast had evidently just come out for a quiet snack in an undisturbed place. He gave me the idea of an old animal going back slightly, as his tops were not up to the mark. The usual rejoicings over the first trophy may be passed over, and seeing that the does (which always move a good fortnight before the stags) were only just beginning to travel, I knew it would not do to be too sanguine about getting another stag for some time. We were in for a long wait, especially as the glorious weather which we had experienced CARIBOU HUNTING 35 so far showed no signs of breaking. Every morning the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and every evening set in an ocean of flame. There had been a wet summer, so we were ex- periencing the consequent reaction. Saunders, who had never seen the like before, was nevertheless full of explanations and prognostications. Every evening he would minutely explain the particular position of certain clouds, and how they always foretold rain or snow in Newfoundland, but when the morning came and the sky was as brilliant as usual, he would be silent on the subject. Evening, however, always gave him renewed hope, and he would begin to prophesy again. For three weeks, during which Saunders repeatedly declared that he would die of sunstroke if the "tropical" heat continued, there was not a drop of rain, and Newfoundland experienced the driest season on record. About this time Saunders ceased being a weather-prophet and became somewhat sad. " Never before," said he, "were such things known. To come so far and see so few stags ! " And I could see that his anxiety was chiefly because he feared I should be disappointed and wish to turn home. Nothing, however, was further from my thoughts. We had plenty of provisions, and I knew that as soon as the weather broke we should get stags. " ' I'm clean off my bearings,' as the ' Banks ' captain said one day in a fog ; ' accordin' to my kalkilations, we're fifty miles inside the Labrador woods,' and that's about the size of it jes' now," said my companion one day, as we seated ourselves after a fruitless tramp. " Sech a sight of deer and nar' a stag." For four days we wandered over the high rocky barrens and "open" timber, hoping to meet a travelling stag. We made from ten to fifteen miles a day over fairly easy ground, difficulties only presenting themselves when we entered the 86 NEWFOUNDLAND wood trails/ which were sometimes "soft" going. Twice we nearly reached a large lake which we saw to the north- west, but to achieve this was rather more than we felt inclined to undertake as yet, until we had exhausted the intervening ground. The next stag we found involved rather an interesting follow-on chase, which I give from my diary. September 8. — At daybreak, from the high ground above St. John's Lake, I spied eight does and three stags all coming along the high ridge above the New Lake. They were about two miles off, and were travelling and feeding at short intervals. One of the stags seemed to be a big beast with a fair head, so I determined to try and catch him before he reached the timber for which he seemed to be making, to lie up for the day. First we had to cross a wooded valley, and in this we disturbed two does, which fortunately moved off in a safe direction. Once on the ridge, and on the spot where we had seen the game, I spied again, and soon found the white sterns of the deer, which had fed on for about a mile. They were walking fast, and when a caribou is walking fast you have to run. Not more than a mile ahead of the animals was the opening of the forest, and so it was a case of who would get there first. The ground was perfectly flat and open, and so we had to run up-wind, keeping just inside the forest on the north side so as to gain cover. This made the travel- ling most arduous. To walk in the tangle of larch scrub, peat-holes, and fallen trees is hard enough work, but to ' Cormack, writing in 1822, speaking of the abundance of the deer paths, says : " One of the most striking features of the interior are the innumerable deer paths on the savannahs. They are narrow, and their directions as various as the winds, giving the whole country a chequered appearance. Of the millions of acres here, there is no one spot exceeding a few superficial yards that is 7wt bounded on all sides by deer pat/ts." This is equally applicable to-day, but only of the interior. CARIBOU HUNTING 87 " head " travelling caribou by running through such obstacles was almost beyond our strength. Three times we sank to earth utterly exhausted, and could only be revived by taking a look at the deer, which seemed to keep almost parallel to our route. There were only another few hundred yards more to fight through, and as it was a case of now or never, we made one final effort and arrived at a long point of small larch just as the first of the caribou, an old doe, came walking along. I think a fair chance would hardly have presented itself even then, had not a broad series of " leads " converged and led sharply to the right at this point, for the old lady, after stopping and carefully sniffing about to see if other deer had passed, determined to adopt this route, and so threw the game into our hands. I saw they would all come by nicely, so sat still and strove to quiet my heaving chest. The rifle performed strange parabolas in the air as I tried the sight tentatively on her shoulder. It seemed hopeless to shoot whilst in such a condition, yet the stag was due in a few seconds, and I must try and compose myself. One, two, six, eight big does filed slowly past at about a hundred yards, then after an interval came a small stag, then at a longer interval another stag about four years old, and then for a while nothing. Where on earth was the big fellow ? Had he left them .■* I moved slightly forward to verify my suspicions, when the rolling horns and broad back of the warrantable beast came into view. How differently a big adult walks from a younger one ! He seems indifferent to his safety, especially when in the company of others, and the Newfoundland expression of "soakin' along" seems to exactly express his solemn, lazy mode of progression. He did not seem inclined to stop, even when Saunders and I both whistled, so I had to take him as he walked. At the 38 NEWFOUNDLAND shot he "skipped," and I felt sure he was fatally hit. This, however, was not the case, but as he galloped across my front, looking quite happy, I fired again and knocked him head over heels with a bullet through the shoulders. The other deer now seemed to lose their heads, and ran around in the most stupid fashion. Even when we went up to the fallen stag, they behaved altogether as no other deer do when frightened or suspicious. The stag was a fair-sized beast, but had rather a poor head, which I had mistaken for something better, seeing it only on the sky-line ; a mistake all stalkers may make at times. Yet I wish now I had not killed him. Saw thirty-five deer to-day. During the next few days I did nothing but explore and map the country, and make a few sketches of the new ground and lakes to the north-west. Sometimes we slept out at night, taking Jack to carry my bed, and making a shelter of spruce boughs. The men seemed quite merry and happy now, as long as they had a good fire of birch and plenty to eat. They had got over the idea that I wanted to shoot a big stag every day, and were now content to wait for the good ones when they should make their appearance. Altogether we had a very jolly time, and Little Bob told me stories of his early days which I was never tired of listening to. Saunders' father had been the master of a little brigantine, which he had built himself down at Green's Pond, Bonavista Bay. With this little vessel he went every year to the seals, and did pretty well till one fatal spring when the boat got caught in the ice, and was driven ashore at Point o' Feather, Harbour Grace ; but Saunders can tell his own story in briefer and more picturesque language than I, so I give it in his own words. CARIBOU HUNTING 39 " A' got carried to the ' ice-huntin' ' myself when a' was no more than seven and a half years old," said the old man, as he reflectively puffed at his twisted plug. " Most wonderful terbaccer this " — after which a long pause, only broken by sounds of suction. "Well, go on, Bob," I said; "tell us all about it." " What you got that book out for ? " "Oh, just to make some notes on seal-hunting." "Oh," and the old man positively blushed. " Yer ain't goin' to put me in one of them books o' yours, are ye ? " "Well, what if I am? I shan't say anything nasty about you anyhow, unless you hurry up and get on about that time you got carried to the ice as a child." After this threat the tale proceeded without a break, whilst Jack occasionally offered encouraging suggestions, such as, "You don't say!" "Well, well, Bob!" " Thet's what it is, now !" "Ye know a' was brought up 'mongst seals and seal folk, and a' can't recollect no time when ma dad warn't goin' to the ice and ma mother warn't scared. Swoiles (seals) was much to us in the spring, for it meant 'bout what we lived on whether the seals drove down in the spring or not, and we struck 'em. So when a' was a little chap ma mother used to put me to bed and make me say prayers like this when swoiles was about : ' Lard God Almighty, send a swile fer daddy, an' send a swile fer mamma, and a swile fer Uncle Jim, an' wan fer Uncle Jim's wife, an' a swile fer little Tommy, an' one each fer Jarge an' Mary, an' a swile fer each of Cousin Will's family, not forgettin' a swile fer Aunt Jane what's a pore widder. An' oh. Lord, don't let de ice blow off shore when daddy's aboard, an' bring 'un safe to hum. Amen.' Then ma mother would call all over our relations to see 40 NEWFOUNDLAND a' 'adn't forgot none, an' if 'a hadn't remember 'em all she'd make me say de prayer all again. " A' was a ' loose ' (active) little kid, and used to help de men getting things aboard Bona'va Bay when my dad went to the sea, and one spring a' scooted up on deck and found de sea runnin' by and us far out in de bay. ' Good Lord,' said my dad, ' here's dat child, little Bob.' I said I'd gone to sleep in the cabin just before they was startin'. They couldn't put back, so a' got took. It was mighty cold, but a' didn't mind that, as the men were kind to me, and dad let me come on the ice one day, and I killed a seal. Ye know, sir, that when we gets to be young men in this country they don't think much of a chap unless he's bin to de ice. It's a sort o' test o' hardiness, and the girls think a heap of the young fellers that's bin once or twice to the swoile fishin' and come back free with their money. It's jest dog's work while it lasts, but somehow there's an excitement in it that sets young fellers kind o' restless in the spring; and 'fore they know, they're a-signing on wi' Joe Windsor or Sam Blandford. We sealers say, too, that man'll go for a swile where gold won't drag 'un. A' was but fifteen when old Sam asked me to go wi' him as cabin boy, and after that a' goes to the ice every spring for twenty-two years." "Is that so!" interposed Jack, with a look of profound respect. There was another long pause, but when a man's in the humour to talk it is best to do nothing but look interested. Presently Little Bob resumed : " My first season wi' Sam we struck the 'harps' (Greenland seals), nor'-east of the Funks, and killed 4100 in a week.* ' This number was afterwards exactly corroborated by Captain Sam Blandford in a conversation I had with the "doyen" of the seal-hunters. A sealman takes a pride in remembering the statistics and returns of every hunt. CARIBOU HUNTING 41 In those days if you killed two seals you had one of them, not like now, when you only take every fourth seal, and sometimes not that. We didn't form ' pans ' (piles) of seals as they do now, but stuck pretty close to the vessel and hauled two seals a man. We never spent a night out on the ice, and alius went off wi' a piece o' fat pork, a few biscuits an' cakes. When times was good we'd take a few billets o' wood to make coffee, and eat the raw heart i' the young ' whitecoats.' Captains was kind to their men, and looked after them as fren's. We made a bit o' money then, and them was the good times o' sealing when men weren't treated worse than dogs as they are now," and Little Bob puffed fiercely at his pipe. " Now it's full speed ahead up into the ' good ' ice. Two hundred men in a foul tub not fit to carry thirty, an' a bully to thrash you out o' your bunk whether you're fit to go to the ice or no. They fling you out on the floe ice with a few billets of wood, and steams away a day to dump off another crowd, and like as not you've got to spend the night out wi' your clothes freezin' on you, for you're bound to fall in the cracks least once a night, however ' loose ' you may be. Thar's no room below once the steam winch gets a-going and seals a-comin' aboard, so up comes the coal, and what with the grit and the blubber, two hundred men can't sleep very comfortable on the open decks in a mass of muck, wi' the cold freezin' your marrow." " I wonder the men stand it, and they get crews year after year," I suggested. " Ah, that's cos you don't know what the poverty o' Newfun'lan' is," returned the old man sadly. "There's boys goes once or twice to prove they're men, but the crews dont consist d them. It's the poor, the very poor, and they just 42 NEWFOUNDLAND have to go or starve. It's this way. Ye see there's lots of poor fisher-folk all 'long the coast and islands that never sees a dollar from one year end to another. " 'Fore they goes to cod fishin' in summer the merchants give 'em grub to keep their families all summer while they're away. Fishin' goes on till October, and by December they've got nothing, so has to go to the merchants again to get ' tick ' in provisions to last 'em through the winter. Then to pay this off they hev to go to the seals in the spring or they won't get no more credit, as the merchants also own the seal vessels. Only the captains make any money at the seals, and they're good fellers as a rule, but if they lose a vessel or let their men ' break out,' as they do at times, they're soon as poor as the rest o' us. It 'ud make your heart sore to see the way lots o' these islanders come aboard the sealin' vessels in the spring — wi' pinched, half-starved faces, and hardly 'nough clothes to stand a summer breeze. " Yes, a've seen pretty rough times at the ice, 'specially in the old sailin' vessel days. One spring wi' dad, we were out two and a half months without takin' a single ' white- coat.' We got caught in the ice, and a heavy gale came out from the nor'-west, and none of us ever expected to see Green's Pond no more. We was twenty-two days smashin' to an' fro in the ice, wi' all our boats gone and the bulwarks stove in, but by-and-by dad got her nose to the gale, and after lyin'-to five days and five nights the gale rounded, and we got out and made Harbour Grace half full o' water. It was rough a' can say, no sleep, in at de pumps all the time. Next year dad lost his vessel ; got caught in the ice and drove up in Point o' Feather, Harbour Grace. So a' shipped wi' Captain John Han for four or five springs. Then a' went wi' Captain Sam Windsor for a spell ; and I CARIBOU HUNTING 43 then wi' Captain Kane and Captain Green. A' also did two trips wi' young Bill Windsor. " Most wonderful sealman was ole Captain Sam Windsor. The men on the east coast used to say that he could generally tell where the seals was 'fore he went out. Some twenty men, friends of mine, went one spring from Green Bay to Green's Pond, to get a berth wi' Captain Carter. The ship was about full, so only ten could sign on, and the others had to walk home again, feelin' sick and hungry. On the way home they saw ole Captain Sam Windsor standing at the door of his house, and he after askin' their business invited the whole lot in to breakfast. Then he says to 'em : ' Don't be downhearted, boys, for not gettin' a berth wi' Carter. The shore men hev bin haulin' whitecoats these two days in Green and White Bay. Green Bay is full o' swoile,^ so hurry home and look on the " driven " ice, and you'll do better than goin' wi' Carter.' Each of those men killed about ^60 apiece, and Carter got no seals." " First spring Bill Windsor, his son, had a steam vessel, a' went wi' him. She was called the Vanguard, and we got jammed in the ice off Belleville Island, near to the Grey Islands, on March 10. We couldn't move, so he sent me, bein' a ' loose ' ice-man, over the ice to see if a' could get to the islands and hear news of the seals. It was moon- light, and a' travelled nine miles over pretty rotten stuff to the north island, and then nine miles more across the tickle^ to the next. Then a' had to go six miles across ' The young Greenland seals only very rarely come as far south as this in the spring, and then only when driven in by an easterly gale. ' This is a perfectly true story, and well known to all dwellers in St. John's. The explanation is simple. Captain Windsor, as his nephew told me, perfectly understood the spring winds and the movements of the floe ice under exceptional circumstances. ' A strait between two islands. 44 NEWFOUNDLAND the land 'fore a' met two young men. They told me that swoiles had been driving by into White Bay for seven days and seven nights. They themselves had hooked seventeen whitecoats out o' the slob (shore ice). One told me also Captain Toomey was anchored under the island, so I went straight back to my ship and was pretty well done up, as I hadn't had a bite to eat for twenty-four hours, and had fell in twice and was 'most froze. By-and-by Captain Bill comes to me, and asks me if a' would take a teller to Captain Toomey, as none of the other men liked to go. So after a few hours' sleep and a feed, a' starts again, and after a rare job delivers ma letter to Captain Toomey. ' Your Captain, Saunders,' says Toomey to me, ' is of the same mind as I am. Those seals that's bin passin' is only a patch o' the southern pack, the main body is away north in the Straits' (Belle Isle), so when I gets back to my ship, the Captain he up anchor and were off to the Straits and the Labrador, and we didn't take nar' a seal. When we come back to St. John's we finds all the other vessels had filled wi' seals up in White Bay. So it show's there's such a thing as being too clever," concluded the old man sententiously. I thought he'd finished his seal talk for the time being, but Jack supplied a sequel by remarking, " Bob, sing us the song the sealmen used to make 'bout that trip." " Oh, that's rot, that's nothing." "Well, let's have a bit of it anyhow, Bob," I suggested. After some further persuasion the old hunter began to half sing and half recite the following lines in a cracked voice : — " Come all you jolly Ice-men That ploughs the ragin' Main, I'll tell ye of the Vanguard, Likewise our Captain's name. CARIBOU HUNTING 45 His name is Captain Windsor, Sailed out from Bonava's Bay, In search of those young whitecoats But still he got astray. We steamed her down off Belleville Our trials do begin 'Twas there we did get frozen in For three long days or four, We drift by the Grey Islands And very near ashore. 'Twas here early next morning Our Captain come on deck, He says unto John William, ' Bob Saunders, you'll go get — Bob Saunders, you'll go get, my boy. And try to get on shore. Or hear from Captain Toomey On board the Commodore! We boarded Captain Toomey, As you may understand, A steamboat nigh three miles from us, A frozen in the ' Jamb.' A breakage from the Gull rock It set the Vanguard free ; She steamed into the harbour, 'Long with the other three. Our people from the Island These words I hear them say, The Walrus and Paslusha Driven in White Bay Slipped in the spot of seals." " A' don't remember no more," broke off Saunders, sud- denly becoming modest, "but it's mostly rot 'bout myself;" and he refused to speak further of his plucky act. Hunting the Greenland seal from ships and hunting the same from the storm-swept coast of Newfoundland are two different matters. The chase in both cases is beset with 46 NEWFOUNDLAND sudden and dreadful dangers, seldom foreseen and often incapable of being warded off. In both, the advent of sudden storms may cause the grinding heavy mass to pack on the coast, and thence whirl it seawards again where it is dispersed in fragments with its human freight. The ships can often, and generally do, rescue their men when these untoward circumstances occur ; but the lot of the poor coast hunter who snatches his precarious living from the outports is hardness itself, for when difficulties come he has but his own wits and bravery to help him. The wind that sweeps the ice in, bearing on its bosom the tempting whitecoat, may veer at any moment and drive the whole mass off shore again, and then only the watchfulness of the land look-outs and the ready resources of the men can save a disaster. It takes real and solid courage to make a good seal hunter ; not the somewhat theatrical bravery of the soldier who leads a forlorn hope, but the dogged three o'clock in the morning article that takes things humbly and expects but little reward. The true story of the Newfoundland ice-fields is not nor ever will be written, nor will the names of its many heroes be penned in the pages of an undying history, but in the minds of many to-day who have taken part in that annual strife with the forces of nature there live scores of instances of marvellous courage and unselfish devotion. Down on the barren east coast they tell the story of Matilda Barworth and her half-witted son, born out of wed- lock. She loved the boy who grew almost to man's estate, and when he crept off in his quiet way after the others in the spring-time she used to watch in the dusk for his return, going with the other women of the village ; for, in their universal charity, she had long since been forgiven. CARIBOU HUNTING 47 One evening, as the men were returning, the wind veered suddenly, and in less than a minute there was a wide gap formed between the rocks on the shore and the pack. This little "tickle," as it is called, was not quite open water, but a space of slushy, fine fragments of ice on which none can run except the most experienced ice-men. In a few minutes most of the men, being skilled from their youth, ran across the dividing distance, which was every moment becoming broader. As the roll of the ocean caused the rotten ice to rise, they fell on their faces and lay flat, thus preventing a slip through. All passed safely over except Jim Barworth, whose courage seemed to have deserted him. "Come, Jim, boy, try it now," cried his mother. "You can do it sure." But Jim could not face it, and ran backwards and forwards in a panic. She kept calling to him again and again as an anxious hind calls her calf, but he would not come, and sank on the ice hiding his face in his hands. Suddenly the woman ran out on the rotten ice and would perhaps have crossed, had not a wave risen, formed a crack, into which she disappeared for ever. At that moment Jim looked up and sprang to his feet, for he loved his mother much. He gave but one glance round and rushed across the dreaded space with outstretched arms. But too late. The crack opened again, and in Death mother and son were not divided. The weather still being brilliant, I revisited Selous' camp for two days, and then went down to the east end of the St. John's Lake for another two days, but in neither of these places did we see even a small stag, so returned again to my standing camp to the north-west of the lake. 48 NEWFOUNDLAND Nearly all hunters have superstitions, and on September 15 I discovered that neither Bob nor Jack were above this pardonable weakness. "A' dreamed o' Mrs. Bury last night," said Jack solemnly at breakfast-time. " Then we're sure to kill a big stag to-day," echoed Saunders, with conviction. Questioned as to the connection between this estimable lady (the wife of a storekeeper in Alexander Bay) and the monarch of the woods, Saunders at once gave the requisite explanation. " Once de ole man Stroud had been hunting fer nigh a fortnight and nar a stag had he seen, till one night he seen Mrs. Bury, who's a lady o' persition down our bay, sitting on the top of a big stag and smilin' at 'un. Next day Stroud kills a great one. Again on the same trip one o' the packers, Dan Burton to name, he dreams he's bin a-talkin' to Mrs. Bury, and sure 'nough Stroud's party kills 'nother big stag. There's some connection 'tween the deer and dat lady, fer last year Johnny here sees her in his sleep, and next day Mister Selous kills the finest head I ever seen. We don't really think much on Mrs. Bury, but when she comes to us we're mighty glad." The sun was sending great fiery shafts of light across the eastern sky and painting the emerald woods with crimson and gold as we stepped out of the forest on this particular morning. We thought ourselves out early, but a flock of Canadian geese rose clamorously from an upland marsh, and a pair of great northern divers were calling querulously from the clouds, showing that others had been up awhile before us. On a little lake up near the first spying place some dusky ducks were paddling along the edge and turning Saunders' Watekiall, Ti.kra-Koxa River Where a Stag has Cleaned his Horns CARIBOU HUNTING 49 upside down in the familiar fashion of our own mallards. It was a glorious waking to life, and we sat for a while enjoying the crisp morning air and wondering if the stags ever intended to move. "Think we'll take a walk round Island Pond to-day," said Saunders, suggesting a new ground, and to this I at once acquiesced, as my guide said that an old stag or two generally "summered" there in the stunted and isolated belts of spruce, often coming to the lake shore in the evening. At noon we rested for our regular midday tea by a little stream, where were many larches recendy scraped by a caribou stag. " That feller's close about here somewhere," said Saunders, and so he was, for soon after commencing our stealthy walk round the isolated drokes, I suddenly looked to my left and saw the broad back and snowy neck of the game we sought for. We had surprised the deer within eighty yards, and he was feeding unconcernedly, so I ought not to have hurried as I did to take him " from the shoulder," as there was time to get into an easy position in which I could have made a certainty of the shot. Immediately the stag turned sideways I fired, the bullet going too high over his back. The deer at once galloped away from the cover a few yards and again stood. This time I hit him on the horn, which frightened him considerably and caused an instantaneous retreat to the woods. As he galloped away I pulled again, without effect, and yet again as he crossed a little sluit about a hundred and fifty yards away. "You have him," said Jack; "I saw the hair fly from his side ; " but I did not think so, seeing that the stag had, after the shot, galloped away easily, and then starting back with raised head and tail and extended " scut," leapt in the 50 NEWFOUNDLAND air and took a few long slinging steps to the rear. Then he gave one wild comprehensive survey of the landscape, kicked some stones into the air, and galloped away out of sight as hard as his legs would carry him. We now ran forward, and on rounding a belt of forest saw my stag lying dead in the open. My last shot had taken him right through the heart. The head was a very ordinary specimen of that grown by the average Newfoundland caribou. During the walk home it was terribly hot, and Saunders, having the head to carry, became thirsty, and most unwisely drank some water out of a stagnant pool. When we got to camp he complained of feeling ill, and could eat nothing. Unfortunately, too, the brandy had been left down at the boats on Lake St. John, so it was daybreak before Jack started to fetch the only medicine we possessed. By the evening Saunders was much better and ate some dinner, and next morning expressed himself as quite recovered and able to try the ground near the New Lake on which I had fixed some hopes. At the east end of this lake, which was a large sheet of water some twenty-five miles round (and now named after me), is a broad open marsh. This space connected two great forests, and by all reasoning we assumed that many of the deer that would eventually come from the northern woods must cross this flat to reach the southern woods. It was directly in the line of migration nearly south-west, and so we decided to go down and examine the marsh, and, if there should be a good show of " leads " passing across it, to camp there for a week and let the deer come to us. Jack came with us as usual now, for he was a sociable fellow and hated being left in camp by himself ; and, as \ Then tape, utof forest had very dland iders, reely [Otto thing. ,t the Jack 1 the ^nner, :etof after two many I, and ,nd, if i KS it, CARIBOU HUNTING 51 apart from other considerations, he had sharp eyes, I liked to have him with me. A pleasant walk of five or six miles over the high ridge and then down through the timber for another two miles brought us to the eastern end of the New Lake. I did not go on to the shore, but stopped behind examining a splendid series of fresh caribou trails leading, as I had hoped they would, right across the marsh and round the lake edge. It was the very place to meet the deer, and I could put my camp in a " droke " of spruce close to the water's edge as long as the north wind, which had now started, continued to hold. I sat down to rest well satisfied with the outlook, when Jack, who had gone to fill the kettle, suddenly came rushing back to me to say that a stag and a doe were at that moment swimming across the lake. Sure enough, there they were far out in the centre of the lake, and making for the southern shore about a mile to our left. There was no time to be lost, as caribou swim fast, so we got off at once, and fortunately found that the forest, which was new to us, was not so dense as usual, and that we could progress at a fair rate under cover. Looking over a high bank which concealed the point for which the deer were making, I saw the animals coming on fast about four hundred yards away, and heading straight for our position. Here I took the telescope from Saunders, who now expressed the opinion that the stag was a small one ; and after bringing it to bear on the horned one, I was forced to a similar conclusion. The two deer now must have seen us, or changed their minds as to a landing place, for they suddenly turned to a right angle and gave me a good broadside view. The appearance of the deer with horns now presented a some- 52 NEWFOUNDLAND what different aspect ; it had upturned brow points like a red deer, and a thin grey neck utterly unlike that of any young stag. " That's a doe," I said to Saunders, handing him the glass to take a look. "Yes," replied my companion, "an' with the biggest horns I ever see in my life." The two deer had now separated, the unhorned doe coming straight on and landing within a few yards of us before dashing into the forest, whilst the other one whose head I now coveted had turned east again, and was making for a gravel bank about half a mile on our back tracks. The wind being perfect, I easily headed the deer, and gave her a bullet immediately she landed on the shore. She carried unusually large horns of twelve points, and was evidently an old " yeld " doe. As a rule caribou does have no horns to speak of, and as it was of scientific interest to know what proportion of females carried these cranial appendages, I kept a careful list of all the deer seen by myself during the trip, and what percentage of, in this case, the uglier sex, were so ornamented. Number of female caribou seen, 306 ; made up of i with twelve points, i with eight points, 6 with four points, 40 with three points, (about) 120 with two points, 130 with no horns, or with only small knobby excrescences. On our way home we noticed little sign of stags travelling ; but on going up out of the forest we ran right up against a good beast, which I killed without any stalking, or in fact any incident that is worth recording. He simply stood and looked at me from about fifty yards, and I shot him from the shoulder. He had a pretty but not a large head of twenty-six points, and was evidently a young stag. CARir.nU SWIMMINC, {From Photographs by Parsons) CARIBOU HUNTING 53 On the night of September 17, Jack baked bread for three days, as we had decided on a three days' tramp to the east until the stags should show signs of moving past the New Lake to the north, whence I hoped to go by-and- by. As we left the wood close to our camp we came on the fresh sign of a black bear not an hour old. "Shouldn't wonder if that cuss cleans out our camp while we're gone," murmured Saunders reflectively, as he examined it ; then as we tramped along the old man indulged in a few reminiscences. " A've know'd um do thet more'n once, and play funny wid de whole outfit. There was an Indian named Stephen lived down our bay a while back. He was just the best trapper in Newfun'lan', an' he told me wance when I was in, furrin' (trapping) wi' him, that one night he wakes up sudden cos de fire had gone out, and across the glow he sees a great black thing movin'. "'Who's dere?' he call out, seizin' his gun. De feller don't answer. So he rips at 'un and finds he's killed a large black bear what's eatin' out of he's sugar-can. Stephen he kill more bears than any feller in Newfun'lan', and one fall he come to me and Jack's father and sed he'd shot the largest kind of a bear 'bout ten miles back, and sed too we could get all de fat and meat if we'd come. So he an' little Jack here, he warn't more than a child o' ten then, starts off, and late that evening we come to the carcase. I never seed such a bear as that, 9 feet long, if he was an inch, and I've seen as many bear in Newfun'lan' as any one but Stephen. We started for home next morning, little Jack here carryin' a load that made his nose bleed, but he wouldn't give up or say a word, the little varmint." 54 NEWFOUNDLAND Jack looked shy and utterly uninterested as the old man continued. "Stephen was married to the daughter of old Jim Baxter, himself half an Indian, and a man that had spent all his days reevin' through de woods, so o' course he warn't o' much account. People was mighty civil to Stephe as they was afraid of him, and thet's the way o' most. Yet he was a merry cuss, singin' and laughin' all de time and nothin' to scare a body till ye caught his eyes, and then folk was apt to feel cold. He tried to knife one young chap fer spillin' some coffee on his toes, an' he used to say straight that if he found any white man trappin' bear or huntin' deer too far from de Bay he'd shoot 'un dead. So most folk stop at home. " He'd a great name as a hunter, and whiles used to take town's fellers to de woods, that is, them as didn't know 'un and was fools enough to go with 'un. Course those days they got nothin' cos Stephe 'ud tramp 'em all through de meshes and scare every mother's son o' deer so long as de grub lasted. One time he go out wi' a young 'un from St. John's, named Molony, for a fortnight, and when they come back that feller ain't seen so much as a deer's scut. So I ask Stephe, who liked me somehow, how 'twas. "'What, me show Molony deer?' ses he sarcastic, 'while there's sugar and coffee and bacon. Oh no, no, no, that ain't Stephe." And the old man and Jack indulged in an amused chuckle. I was interested in this queer character, so in response to my request for more " Stephe," Saunders continued. "There was a loud blowin', bullyin' feller that kept a merchant store down Bonava' Bay, and made lots o' money by cheatin' us poor folk. His name was Stanley, an' he CARIBOU HUNTING 55 was powerful fond o' the gun. One fall he goes in wi' Stephe, and after a week o' seein' nothin' but drokes and meshes, he gets mad and cusses the Indian. Sed he'd lied to 'un, and that he'd be off for home right there at once and make things hot fer 'un. Stephe never sed a word at first, but jus' looks at 'un wi' his cold eyes, then he darts off, sayin' he'd show him deer for sure that day. They jus' walked and walked and walked, and by-and-by Stephe tells de feller to sit down and take a spell while he goes into the timber to light a fire and boil kettle. Presently the man from Bonava's Bay gets cold and hungry, and he goes to find Stephe and de kittle ; but de Indian was far away by that time, and he didn't ever see 'un again — least not for some time." "How did the man get out, Bob?" " Well, if it hadn't bin that there was plenty blueberries that fall, and he had a box of matches, he certainly wouldn't a' seen Bonava's Bay agin, for he was clean lost. It took 'un three days 'fore he struck the Terra- Nova River, where some loggers picked 'un up famished and 'most crazy. " When Stanley got back to de salt water, first man he met was Stephe, lookin' as sweet and pleasant as a day in June. " ' Ho, you damned rascal,' screamed the wanderer, ' I'm goin' now to de magistrate to have you arrested, and you'll be jailed sure fer two years.' "'Very well,' says Stephe, 'an' as soon as I come out I shoot you dead very quick.' Stanley stood in the road for some time thinking about it all, and then — he walks home. Dey was all afraid to do anything to Stephe, but he didn't get many hunting parties after that trip." I thought he had finished, but seeing my interest in the 56 NEWFOUNDLAND character of this wild creature, he volunteered yet another excellent tale. " Ever hear that old Newfun'lan' yarn o' Stephe and the two 'sports'? No? Well, ye know you can't lose an Indian even supposin' ye put him down blin'fold in the centre o' the island and tell him to make fer St. John's, and what's more, they don't like to be told they may be going faulty or there's apt to be trouble. Well, one fall, after he'd nearly killed de Bonava' man, Stephe takes in two townies to hunt. Disremember their names, but we'll call 'em Johnny and George. Johnny stays in camp one day, and Stephe goes off wi' George fer to find a deer. They reeves around all day now in de woods, now on de meshes, till by nightfall George gets uncomfortable and doesn't know where he is, and is precious sure the Indian don't know either, cos our woods is tough, as you know. By-and-by Stephe sits down to light a fire. "'Guess we're lost,' ses George. "'Oh no,' says Stephe, lookin' up, kind o' sour. 'Indian not lost. Indian never lost; Camp and Johnny lost.'" "That's good. Bob! Where's Stephe now?" I said. " Dead. Dead six winters ago. De woods and — er — other things done fer him, as it does fer all of us in time. He was haulin' a deer 'long de ice o' George's Pond when he slip up and cracked his skull. He got home to de Bay, but died a few weeks after. A' seen 'un just 'fore he goes, an' he say to me, ' Saunders, whisky's bad fer haulin' deer.' " CHAPTER III BEGINNING OF THE MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE " What's this French shore question," I said to Bob one evening. " There ain't no French shore question — least not in New- fun'lan'," said Little Bob, with a certain tinge of sarcasm. " We heard tell that in your papers they're alius talkin' about the French shore, and what right the Frenchies have thar'. But, sure 'nough, didn't these Frenchies make them villages, and work the land after the Government let them settle there. Yes, right enough. Well, those Frenchies hev been settled there that long, I guess neither English nor French Government's goin' to turn 'em out, and what's more, no Newfun'lan'er grudges them their luck, though they hev got the only bit of coast that isn't worked out and fished to death." ^ " How's that, Saunders ? " " Lobsters, jest lobsters. They fishes lobsters, and makes a good thing of it, though they are growing a bit scarce now. Up there along the French shore the youngsters is born web-footed, and the old folk watch the ebb-tide. Yet it takes more brains to catch an old gran'pa lobster than a cod, one of those old fellows with seaweed on his back and a pair of nippers that could bite yer head off. He's brains, I tell you, and it needs brainy men like those 1 Since this was written, the French shore question has been settled by the payment of a large sum on the part of the English Government. All the French settlers have now left. 57 58 NEWFOUNDLAND Frenchies to catch them. One summer I went lobster catchin' along by de Grey Islands, and we done pretty poor till the spearin' came on." "How do you spear lobsters?" I remarked, for this method of taking the crustacean was new to me. " Well, 'long 'bout the month of August the lobsters cast their shells, and is sort o' soft and fleshy 'bout the back so's ye can drive a spear into 'un. We used to go out early in the day 'long the coast, to where there was caves with the sea washin' up into them. Round about the mouth of these caves we'd cast half a boatload of cod's insides or rotten herrings, always being careful to heave the bait where we cud see clean bottom. Then we lay by fer half-an-hour, an' the fun 'ud begin soon as the tide was sufficient ebb to reach bottom with our long spears. Great sport it was, too, and none too easy stickin' them lobsters as they grabbed the pieces of fish and made off. I liked that kind of fishing fine, and made a good pack of money at it too, fer we'd get as many as fifty to a hundred in a morning sometimes. Anyhow, those Frenchies is all right if you leave 'em alone, an' I know that if they was Newfun'lan' Englishmen they wouldn't turn out after they made the place too." During the next few days " we reeved aroun' considerable " (as Saunders graphically expressed it), seeing a fair number of does and two big stags, both of which showed up in the timber for a minute, and disappeared as soon as I ran to head them. As there was now every sign that the larger deer had commenced to travel, I moved the camp ten miles over the two ridges, and descended into the valley by Millais's Lake, where I had settled to watch the open barrens at the east end. I have already stated this barren forms a connecting MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 59 link between the northern and southern forest, and as it lies immediately in the centre of the main deer leads of the southern herd, I felt sure that I should soon be rewarded by the sight of more good stags than we had encountered during the first four weeks of spying and timber tramping. There is no doubt that if you want to get really good heads in Newfoundland, the only way is to sit still when the deer are on the move. This is, of course, not the highest class of sport, but it is interesting for a few days, and during the week that we spent by the lake I thoroughly enjoyed my stay, and saw more caribou than previously. We waited all the 20th and 21st without seeing anything worth shooting, and on the 22nd, after spying the barren from daybreak till nine o'clock, I got a fit of restlessness, and so determined to take a walk on high ground towards the Gander. To reach this high ground It was first necessary to cross the little river flowing at the north-east corner, and then, after an uphill mile of dense woods, it was all plain sailing. We tried to cross the river near the lake, and found this impossible, afterwards holding right across the open barren to effect a passage higher up. This was an unfortunate manoeuvre, and one that almost cost us a fine stag as subsequent events proved. One should not walk about on the ground where deer are expected to cross. Half a mile up the country the river was still impossible, and, so as not to waste further time, I decided to go up and work the ridge to the south-east. As we crossed the barren I kept looking round (a habit one gets into when expecting game to appear from any quarter) ; and suddenly saw three does come out of the north woods, dash across the river, and begin to traverse the open marsh. We had hardly got out of sight when three more came suddenly into 60 NEWFOUNDLAND view behind us, and all six presently worked on to the main lead straight up the southern woods and disappeared. This episode caused a few minutes' delay, then once more we rose and resumed our journey ; but on giving a final glance back at the now distant river, I saw something moving on the edge of the north woods, close to the water. This brownish- grey thing resolved itself into a doe when the glass was fixed upon it, but there was something else in the field of my telescope. It was at first a shadowy grey spot, which, as I kept the glass upon it, grew lighter and lighter as it neared the edge of the woods, and eventually became white as a patch of snow. "A stag, and a big one too," said Saunders and Jack simultaneously. The grand old fellow came out of the forest with slow and dignified steps. He stood a moment haughtily sur- veying the open prospect before him, the sun shining on his splendid horns. Without hesitation he took the river, and, landing on the near bank, proceeded to shake a halo of sparkling water from his hide. Then off he set to cross the marsh, so I deemed it time to be going to meet him. A sharp run of four or five hundred yards took us to "The Island," as we had christened a small clump of larch and spruce in the middle of the barren. Here I left my companions, and proceeded alone to crawl out on to the marsh towards a certain stone, within easy shot of the lead I felt sure the stag would traverse. Raising myself slightly, I had the satisfaction of seeing the pair coming quickly along. The doe well in front, looking uneasily from side to side, the stag following with steady footfall, but apparently indifferent to danger. They were all right, that was certain, because the wind was blowing straight from them to myself, MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 61 and they must pass broadside on within a hundred yards. With the quiet satisfaction of a man who has got what is vulgarly called a "soft thing," I was just arranging a nice clump of moss under my left arm when there was a sharp whistle from "The Island," and I knew at once that something had gone wrong. Rising up, there were the two caribou racing away back to the river at full gallop. There was nothing left but to sit down and try the stag before he should be completely out of shot. The third bullet struck him on the left horn and materially added to his fears, whilst the fourth just passed his shoulder as he swung slightly to one side. Seeing that he was about to turn quite broadside I kept the last cartridge in the magazine for such a contingency, and to my relief he not only did so, but slowed down to a walk as if about to stop. The stag was now a good 300 yards away, but having a good position and a fine light I pressed the trigger slowly, feeling the shot was a good one. A loud crack and an instantaneous start on the part of the deer showed that the bullet had struck him. Nevertheless he went off again at full gallop, falling twice into bogs, from which he extricated himself with wonderful strength and skill, and then, with a final effort, he made at full speed for the river, tripped over a low bank, turned a complete somersault, and fell dead. It was a moment of great exultation such as every hunter experiences after making a long shot that is successful. Saunders had seen the stag fall, and rushed out of " The Island " waving his hat and shouting with glee. Our quarry was a fine stag with a good Roman nose, such as only old stags (of all species) possess ; but his horns were completely 62 NEWFOUNDLAND buried in the moss, so we had to dig them out for fear of a breakage. Jack set to work, and soon unearthed to view the antlers of a typical caribou, not an extraordinary one, but a fine well-developed head of thirty points, with good strong brows and bays. The horns were rather longer than the average, and the whole what Saunders described as a fine head. We sat long discussing the incidents of the capture, photographing, and skinning the head and neck whilst Jack appropriated the thick rolls of fat lying across the buttocks. This deer was the fattest I have ever seen when skinning any specimen of the cervida ; a good three inches of fat lay all over the thighs, and there was also a thick layer all over the lower parts. Next day, 23rd September, the equinoctial gales com- menced from the west, and the wind increased till the 25th, when it blew almost a hurricane. It was my custom to rise at daybreak, the men getting up half-an-hour earlier to make the fire and boil the kettle for our morning meal. On the morning of the 24th, and when Saunders and Jack had finished their breakfast, they went out to spy the marsh from an open about 30 yards from the camp while I sat and sipped my tea. My boots lay at some distance, and I was just feeling pretty comfortable, thinking how much more delightful camp was than crouching under the lee of a wet bush, for it was still "blowing smoke," when Jack rushed in to say that a great stag had just crossed the river, and was even now traversing the marsh. There was no time to do more than pull on my boots and to fly out on the barren, up across the wind so as to head the beast, for I knew he would make for one of two passes. " A shocking set o' harns," said Saunders, taking the glass from his eye as I dashed by him, but I did not do MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 63 more than glance at the beast, which was walking quickly along in the grey dawn. In a few minutes Jack and I had reached the edge of the hill forest up into which the stag would presently pass, when to my extreme disgust the gale came rushing in a mighty wave over the trees and driving our wind straight towards the now rapidly approaching animal. There was not a moment in which to make a fresh disposi- tion. It was one of those occasions when action decisive and immediate was imperative ; consequently I ran with all my might to come within view of the main lead up the hill, so that even if the stag bolted I should at any rate get a running shot. But this was not to be, and I lost the finest horned stag I had till then ever seen. As I ran along the wood edge, and was still about 250 yards from him, I suddenly saw him throw up his mighty antlered head and spring into the air, as a caribou stag generally does when he gets the wind. A frightened deer will usually halt a moment or two and give you time for a shot, but this fellow seemed to know some- thing about men, and at once made off down wind as hard as his legs could carry him. He was in the worst kind of hummocky ground, and I fired three hopeless shots at his retreating form before he jerked round the edge of the forest arm, and disappeared for ever. Then I went home miserable. On the way back I met Saunders, who, with the kindest intentions, endeavoured to cheer me by saying that this stag carried the finest horns he had ever seen in his life. He, moreover, asked permission to take my rifle and follow the stag as he felt sure I had hit him. I was equally certain that I had not touched the beast, and should indeed have been surprised if I had ; but Saunders, who cherished an altogether unwarrantable view of my shooting powers, considered it 64 NEWFOUNDLAND impossible that I had missed him, and so begged for leave to take up the spoor. " I can take some tea and go two days, and then I will come up wi' him, if he don't go hard ground," said the old fellow. " But what about stags in the meantime. Bob," I sug- gested, as we had only one rifle. This proved unanswerable, so we returned to camp to wait for another monarch of the woods. During the day several deer passed the marsh, but it was not till the evening that the sight of another snowy neck and waving horns of a stag coming along the lake side changed the tenour of our thoughts. It was growing dusk, so I could not see the antlers very well, particularly as he kept close along a belt of trees that fringed the marsh. I ran and took up "the position favourable," as Monsieur Alphonse would say. With the stag was a doe who carried large horns with eight points, an unusual number. She came along in front of her lord and master, looking sus- piciously from side to side as she took each step. I thought she would see me as I lay out on the bare moss not loo yards away, but she went by quietly, and as the stag came on I gave him a shot that looked like a settler. He did not fall, however, but stood again at 200 yards, so I fired again and dropped him quite dead ; the bullet piercing the kidneys, an instantly fatal shot. He had nice brows, and was a fair beast, but not such a head as I would have shot had the light been sufficiently good to properly distinguish the animal. But one has to take one's chance sometimes. The first royal I ever shot in Scotland was killed at 200 yards in a failing light, when 1 could not do more than see he was a large beast. Canada Geese Yellowshanks r-.-^J*. What vul' can do if there is a Big Stoxe to hidk i;khini AND THE Wind is Favourable MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 65 It was rough at night, and snowing a little, so after dinner, when pipes were glowing, the conversation naturally turned on winter hunting and adventures in the snow. The men told me of rough times they had experienced when they went in to get the winter meat. "A' mind a time," said Saunders, "when a' was 'most crazy. 'Twas once when ole man Stroud, the two Arnolds, and young Baxter come in wi' me to hunt our winter meat, and young Baxter Stroud, a boy o' seventeen, he got lost in de snow. Ole man Stroud sends Baxter out wi' me, and tell me to be perticler careful wi' 'un cos he ain't no good at findin' way, but I never think he'd stray the way he done. Third day out a' sees three deer, and goes fer 'em. They moved over a ridge, so I ran on, cut 'un off, and after puttin' three guns at 'em, kills one, and paunches 'un. By-and-by a' goes to look fer Baxter, but he ain't whar a'd left 'un, so I specs he'd gone to camp. When a' come in the ole man Stroud says kind o' sharp, ' Where's Baxter ? ' and a' looks round and sees he ain't thar. A' feels kind o' sick fer a minute, fer it's now snowing hard, and cold fit to freeze a body to death, but a' couldn't say a word even when de ole man say he won't see his boy again. We all starts off by-and-by to look fer tracks o' Baxter, fer the snow had stopped, and the moon had come out. Stroud he wants to go to the place where a' had left the boy, but a' knew well enough tracks was all covered by this time, and that Baxter would make fer the old camp which we'd left in de morning. 'Bout day- break we come to a place where our ponies had broke through de ice morning before, and as we stops to look we hear a faint call from a droke o' spruce close by — a' runs up, and there lies Baxter 'most froze. We lights 66 NEWFOUNDLAND a big fire, and brings him round, but we was only just in time." "Tell Mr. Millais o' that time you had after ole Noah," here interposed Jack. To this Saunders immediately raised objections, and it was only after more leading questions, and many pauses, that the old man told his tale. His re- luctance was, of course, because it involved no little credit to himself. But at last we got him fairly under weigh. " Noah Dimot is an ole feller 'bout seventy years. He's alius lived down our Bay 's far as a' can remember, and whenever he go into de woods he got lost. Thar's some folk, d'ye know, can't fin' thar way around even if thar was finger-posts all de time, and ole Noah 'e was alius that kind. His folk shouldn't 'a' allowed him round without a string. He was terrible fond o' the gun, and thet was how we had the greatest hunt I ever knew. Ole Noah 'e gone out one winter towards a lake, four or five miles from de Bay, to look for rabbits. Some men at a lumber camp, 'bout three mile out, see 'un going out. Next evenin' one of those men's sittin' by de fire smokin', like to we, asks if any of 'em seen Noah goin' home, fer he'd pro- mised to leave a rabbit. No, none of 'em had seen um, so they look in each other's faces, and that night one o' them comes down to the Bay to see if Noah's home. O' course, Noah had got lost as usual, and de whole o' de men in the Bay were out that night lookin' for Noah wi' birch bark torches. " It was lucky there was no fresh snow, for if there had been, that would hev bin the end o' Noah Dimot. Early in the morning a' finds Noah's track, and follows it all the next day. There was three other men wi' me, and Noah's son, Sandy. We'd never a bite to eat, and snow was 68 NEWFOUNDLAND brandy, and told 'im a' was Saunders, 'e knowed me at once, and said quite merry, ' All right now, boys, a' ain't got lost ; see de ole woman again, boys.' " A' needn't tell you de trouble we had to get back, as we'd no grub but only brandy ; but a' made a great fire, and was just startin' by myself for a lumber camp some twenty miles back, when the boys, who'd trailed us, came up, an' we got de ole man back to the Bay after takin' a good spell. Ole Noah was sixty-seven when 'e got lost like that, an' 'e was four days and four nights without food or fire, so don't tell me some old 'uns ain't tough, for there most young 'uns would a' gone under. Ole Noah 'e's seventy- three now, but 'e don't do no more rabbit 'untin'." It was blowing a full gale all the 25th, but I decided to stop one more day, in the hope of seeing something out of the ordinary. In this I was not disappointed, for though I did not kill an extraordinary head this trip, I got that evening a stag with first-rate antlers, and quite the best I obtained. His capture was almost too easy, for the wind was perfect, and he was just " soakin' " along, smelling where some deer had passed, and not caring for anything in the world. I had been spying and watching all day, and had just gone a few steps to the camp to get a warm up, when a whistle from Jack recalled me. " There's a great feller just come out on that little barren between the two 'drokes,'" said Jack, pointing to an open space about a mile away. " He's heading for the main woods, and I know his head's big, for I put the glass on it." With this assurance I at once " made tracks," and in ten minutes was creeping over a stony knoll to see if the stag was still heading for the same road. For a few ^ ^ ■^kMi^ % --'. ^■^.^^ : t ft p2Z3^B ^^ jB^hH w^ty^rt (^A^^^B .>IV'.t— t Trii CHAPTER IV EXPEDITION INTO NEW GROUND UP THE GANDER RIVER " Dere's lots o' things in this world wot seems to strike us rough at the time, but which turns out the best in the end," was a frequent remark of my philosophical friend Little Bob ; and with this he addressed me as I met him at the commencement of my second expedition, looking like a scared fox in the mundane wilds of Water Street. Towns were not to the liking of this man o' the woods, and we were discussing the disappointing fact that the steamer for North Labrador had departed on the previous day and would not be back for another month. It was disgusting, to say the least of it, as I had made my preparations care- fully before leaving England, and meant if possible to add the barren-land caribou, of the north-eastern corner of America, to my collection of hunting trophies. The loss of a month in the autumn means nothing in some countries, but in North Labrador winter closes down with a sudden snap about the beginning of October, and there you must remain with the Esquimaux till the next summer, if the last boat from the south fails to reach Nain and the north ports. As I had also hoped to hunt again in Newfoundland in the second season, it was clearly the best plan to make one good expedition in that delight- ful country, rather than to try and effect under pressure two shooting trips in the two countries both so wide apart. 75 76 NEWFOUNDLAND Accordingly Bob Saunders and I retired to my lodgings, and flattened our noses on the map of Newfoundland. Experienced hunters always say, " The first trip you go to a new country is for experience, the second you get what you want." This is very true, especially if the hunter him- self is able to make deductions, if he does not mind travelling, and has, like the headmaster, the power of picking capable assistants. In the previous ye.ir I had learned something about the general habits of the woodland caribou, and became more and more convinced that during the month of September the big stags keep to themselves in various " putting up " spots situated near the unvisited lakes and rivers of central Newfoundland. When the railway was first made and opened, numbers of splendid stags came out of the north every September, and crossed the line between Bay of Islands and Howley on their autumnal migration. Nowadays, although almost as many deer come, they are chiefly does, so that men, who during these years of plenty were accustomed to go about and shoot these old stags like sheep in a pen, now grumble and say that the patriarchs are shot out. But this is not the case. The animals are not such fools as themselves. They have learnt by hard experience, and have protected themselves by hiding in peace and security in the untrodden forests of the interior, and only migrating in the late fall to the south coast barrens. There I believe they will continue to flourish for centuries to come unless another railway is made, which is not likely to occur. The natural conditions, too, of the great sanctuary will in themselves keep this extent of country inviolate, for, in the first place, after the lower reaches of the rivers are passed, there is no timber worth cutting and likely to tempt the cupidity of man. Nor is it possible to reach the interior > V;>.. SA.NDV iJUir AMI loKIV-MMC I'OINT HEAU EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 77 except with expensive light-draught canoes, and these must be handled by experienced watermen who are not easily discouraged. The average Newfoundland guide likes to do things comfortably, both for himself and the sportsman who employs him, so he is quite content to take his man, or party, and sit about the leads of Howley, Goose Brook, the Gaff Topsails, or Patrick's Marsh. This involves no labour or fatigue, and so abundant are caribou, that three stags apiece may be killed at these places still. But rarely is a good head obtained in this manner. To shoot good heads the hunter must see many, and he can only do so by going far afield. These at any rate were the conclusions we came to after carefully surveying the map of Newfoundland. Two rivers seemed to pierce to the very heart of the country, the Bay d'Est and the main branch of the Gander, the longest river in Newfoundland, whose source I afterwards discovered beyond the Partridgeberry Hills, about a hundred miles from the sea. We resolved therefore to adopt this last route, and to travel as far as we could haul the canoes. The first thing to be done was to obtain, if possible, some information about the Gander, or the "Nor'- West" Gander as it is more generally called, and for this purpose I went to Mr. W. D. Reid, who on this and subsequent occasions kindly gave me every assistance in his power. It appeared that fifteen miles up the river was a lumber camp worked by the Newfoundland Timber Estates. This industry has mills at Glenwood, on the Newfoundland Railway, and its steamers ply the lake and haul the logs from both the rivers which flow into its waters. Mr. Crowe, the manager of this company, said that practically nothing was known of the main Gander, and that no one had been farther than 78 NEWFOUNDLAND twenty miles up the stream, for at this distance the workable timber ceased. As to the navigability of the river, neither he nor any one else knew anything, but it was thought that "steady" water existed for thirty-five miles to a point where there was a waterfall. Beyond this nothing was known, but as James Howley,' the geographer, with his two Indians, had reached a point over seventy miles up this river some time in the seventies, I hoped to be able to do the same, and, if the water held good to the Partridgeberry Hills, to portage across to Dog Lake and river system, and work south to Hermitage Bay on the south coast. I stayed a week in St. John's with my friend Mr. Hesketh Prichard, who was bound for the Labrador. Waiting to start on an expedition is always tiresome, but our delay on this occasion was made pleasant through the acquaintance of Judge Prowse and other friends. The Judge is certainly one of the most interesting characters in the island, for he was born and educated there, and understands the people of his country as no other man does. He is a man of over seventy, but his vitality and energy are that of a schoolboy. He talked all the time, and I listened, which just suited us both, for one was never tired of listening to characteristic stories of the men of the sea and the woods ; and he can tell his stories with a due appreciation of the humour and pathos of human life. The life of a judge in Newfoundland, until he reaches the highest rank, is not one to be envied. He has both to try the case and get up evidence for the prosecution as the ' Mr. Howley, in a letter to Mr. Blair, said : " I should not recommend Mr. Millais trying this route. It is too difficult for canoe navigation owing to the scarcity of water in the Gander during the summer season. We were obliged to abandon our own canoes some twenty miles above the Gander Lake after nearly tearing them to pieces, and to proceed on foot the remainder of the journey." EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 79 procurator-fiscal has to do in Scotland. This involves many long and tedious journeys, often performed in the depth of winter to outlying camps and villages, where evidence is often well-nigh impossible to procure. This severe physical strain year after year had hardly left its mark on the genial old gentleman, who, though he has now retired, is as active as ever. I think the reader would have laughed had he seen this Judge of the Supreme Court and myself hunting for the problematical snipe in the wood and marshes one October morning. The Judge, with his hat on the back of his head and a pair of bedroom slippers on his feet ("Ye get wet anyhow, my boy "), jumped over the streams and fences like a two-year-old, working a somewhat wild pointer, and so, whistling and prancing from marsh to marsh, he covered the country in a manner that quite astonished me. Nor shall I forget his charming disregard for appearances, so character- istic of the true sportsman, when he kindly came to see me off by the crowded Sunday train, bearing in one hand a bucket full of potatoes and in the other — whisper it not in the Fly-Fisher's Club, breathe it not in the gun-rooms in the north — a big bag of worms. The Judge has told me many excellent stories which I hope he will some day himself give to the world, for his literary abilities are well known on both sides of the Atlantic, his History of Newfoundland being the standard work on the subject. He is just as fond of telHng a good story against himself as in his favour. I must venture to narrate one little tale about him, which comes from his own pen, and which was common talk in the up-country camps of the interior. " The inception of the railway in Newfoundland met with 80 NEWFOUNDLAND great opposition. The merchants were specially hostile to the new departure ; one old business man used to stand on the head of his wharf, and tell the people how ' a tall gate ' (tollgate) would be placed at the western entrance to St. John's ; every one with a horse and cart would have to pay 2s. 6d., and whenever the surveyor's tape was passed over their land it was gone from them for ever. In consequence of these stories the people were stirred into a state of frenzy and madness. When the railway surveyors began their work at Topsail, at least five hundred insane men and women followed them about constantly insulting and threatening them. I was sent out with a small body of police to talk to the people, and explain all about the railway. For days and days I sat on the hillside, and told them all about the advantages of the new line. It was all in vain ; I could not overcome their dread of the new and dangerous enterprise. At last one morning they made a murderous assault on the surveyors, took all their instruments, and they had to run for their lives. As soon as I had taken the deposition of these frightened officials, I hurried back to where the crowd were rejoicing over their victory. The leader in the assault on the surveyors was a fisherman farmer called Charley Andrews. We had some difficulty in carrying out his arrest. After he had been conveyed to the city jail, I met him on one of my usual rounds of inspection. ' Well, Charley,' I said, ' how are you getting on ? ' 'I am all for the railway now. Judge.' ' How has that change come over the spirit of your dream?' said I. 'Well,' he answered, 'it was this way. An English sailor chap got drunk and he were put into my cell ; when he wakes in the mornin' he says to me, "Well, old chap, what in the name of heaven brought you here?" I told 'un it were fer fightin' agen a railway. '-''f^-w:iP^ --*• A Man's Track — Thkv find it J/f..-: ^. -^, A Man's Track — About to go A Man's Track — Off ^.^'^' 'v? A Man's Track— Settling Down to thf,ir long slinging Trot The Suffragette Leads EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIA'ER 81 "What an infernal old bloke you must be," he said, "to do the like o' that. Why, the railway is the poor man's road," and then that sailor chap he up and explained to me all about en, so I'se all for the railway.' ' But, Charley,' I said, 'did I not explain all this to you over and over again? Did I not tell you all the work it would give the people, how it would bring all the goods to your doors, and quick passages in and out to town ? ' He hung his head in confusion for some time. At last he took a sly glance up at me: 'Yes, Judge, but we hioived you was paid for sayin dein tings.' " On the morning of 7th September I found myself at Glenwood, a small wayside station in the east-central portion of Newfoundland, and here I met Little Bob Saunders, his friend Alexander Butt, commonly called " Sandy," and all the paraphernalia of canoes and provisions. A word is perhaps necessary to introduce "Sandy" Butt, as he enters these pages for the first time. He was a strong, dark, loose-jointed fellow, standing about six feet high, whose face bore a chronic expression of supercilious amusement. Nearly everything in this world was to him something in the nature of a joke ; whether it was building camp in the dark or nearly chopping his foot off with the axe, which he did one day, it was all the same to him, and a good subject for whistling. A twinkle never left his eyes, and, like most Newfoundlanders, he was hard-working and good-natured, and never swore, for which I was grateful to him. He came with me ostensibly as "cook," altogether a mistaken raison d'etre, for after the first day on which he made some bread, I lived exclusively on wheatmeal biscuits. Sandy was not the least disconcerted at this insult to his calling, but only 82 NEWFOUNDLAND regarded his efforts at baking as another superb jest, and " something to make the boys laugh down the Bay." But he could handle a canoe, and for twenty-one days in cold water was pulling, hauling, and carefully raising his little boat over the rocks and through the stream, with endless endurance and patience. This was just the sort of man I wanted. It is only recently that Newfoundland has awakened to the fact that it possesses considerable mineral and forest wealth. Until ten years ago it imported all the lumber it required. Now it not only supplies its own local needs, but exports 50,000,000 feet annually. Within the past three years Lord Northcliffe and his brothers have acquired 2000 square miles of the best timber land in the island in the neighbourhood of the Exploits, Red Indian, and Victoria Lakes. Much opposition, chiefly due to political agitation, was at first brought against the grant, the wildest stories being circulated amongst the fishermen, such as the threat- ened destruction of ancient hunting privileges. Now since the innovation is proving a success and stimulating labour and business, the coming of the Harmsworths is regarded as a blessing. If we except a small area of country in the neighbourhood of Bay d'Espoir, there is only one other good timber district in the island, and that is the Gander country, till recently controlled by the Newfoundland Timber Estates, and now to be worked by an English syndicate, represented by Mr. Reed. Newfoundland timber and spruce wood for pulp were booming, so little Glenwood presented a scene of unusual activity. About two hundred and fifty men were employed at the mill ; nearly all Newfoundlanders, with a sprinkling of Canadians, who from their older experience at the logging camps of Ottawa were in a sense regarded as superior. I EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 83 sat up late in the smoking-room of the little shanty hotel, listening to stories and " lumber " talk. All the men there, about fifteen, were Newfoundlanders, except one, a Canadian from Nova Scotia. He seemed a clever and rather bright youth, and had been evidently indulging his wit at the expense of what he considered the more slow men of the island. At any rate they had clubbed together to sit upon and snub him. An old Newfoundlander was expressing his views about circular saws, when the Canadian boy interrupted and contradicted him flatly. He then began to explain where the Newfoundlander was wrong, when five or six of the islanders attacked him and told him to " shut up or get." Up at Glenwood and other logging camps Newfoundlanders are fond of telling a story against themselves. It is generally given in some such form as the following, a Canadian being the spokesman. " Say, boys, I'll tell you a funny dream I had last night. I dreamt I died and went to Hell, which wasn't fair anyway. Old man he met me at the gate, and said he'd jes' show me round. ' See, boy,' he ses, ' you'll notice we got to keep some sort of order down here's well's upstairs. Nations got to be separated jes' same, or else they be a fightin' all the time, an' I wouldn't hev no time to do my roastin'. Those black fellows over there's Spaniards. Them in that corner's Frenchies. That big crowd down yonder's trust magnates an' African millionaires ; those two fine fellows standin' there alone, 'cos they got here by mistake, those are Canadians.' Yet all those unfortunate people were a roastin' an' a sizzlin', and hevin' fearful times. Bimeby we comes to a lot of wretched-lookin' men fastened up to the roof with chains, and underneath them was a small fire of sticks with the smoke a comin' up. 84 NEWFOUNDLAND " ' What's those ? ' I ses. " ' Well — er,' ses the Devil, a rubbin' his chin, ' those is Newfoundlanders. They're too d — d green to burn, so I'm jes' dryin' them off a bit.' " Mr. Whitman, the manager of the Glenwood mills, told me that the large steamer would be at my disposal next morning, so we obtained a trolly, and the men soon pushed the outfit down to the Gander Lake, about a mile and a half away. It was a delightfully hot autumn morning as we steamed slowly down the beautiful lake. Gander Lake is one of the largest sheets of water in New- foundland, 2,3 miles long. Away to the north stands the fine mountain of Blue Hill, surrounded by dense woods, contain- ing the finest trees in the island. The lake was exceedingly low — so low in fact that even the flat-bottomed steamer had some difficulty in making her way into deep water. " Suppose you know every stone in the lake," was my first remark to the captain. " Yes, that's one of them," was the reply, as we simul- taneously measured our length on the deck of the steamer. A big rock had caught us when going full speed astern and created this slight diversion. It took about ten minutes of poling and shoving, with engines going full steam ahead, and then we were under weigh again. In four hours we reached the mouth of the North-West River, which debouches into the lake amid a crowd of beautifully-wooded islands, covered with timber, and intersected with channels. Here a Frenchman named Frank de la Barre came aboard, having received instructions to meet me and pilot us up through the islands on the following day. Frank had been in the Newfoundland woods for fifteen EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 85 years, and when I shook hands and addressed him in his own language, a multitude of conflicting emotions seemed to sweep across his face. I suppose even my bad French called up a wave of happy memories of days gone by, for at first his expression was one of incredulity, passing to that of unrestrained delight. Then came such a rattle of the southern tongue that I had some difficulty in understanding him. For one dreadful moment I thought he was going to kiss me, so I merely backed away and gave some orders about getting our outfit into the ship's boats, for it was blowing too hard to paddle across the lake to a point where it was necessary to make our base for the start up the river on the following day. We spent a comfortable night in the woods, and next morning just as we had all the outfit packed in two canoes, Frank de la Barre and his son turned up to guide us up stream. Our route lay through a winding channel in and out of dozens of small islands, past lovely backwaters which gave peeps like the Thames at Clieveden Woods. Over deep holes and "steadies" we paddled, having to get out and pull the canoes over many sandy bars which only held enough water to float them. In this way we progressed for a couple of hours, when the main stream of the Gander opened itself before us, and seeing that further pilotage was unnecessary I bid good-bye to Frank. During the first day's journey we made excellent pro- gress, although the stream was certainly more rapid than we had anticipated ; in fact, it was only for short spells that we could get aboard and paddle. The whole river, about 200 yards broad, seemed to hold no deep pools or any ex- cessive rapid. It was almost to its source for eighty miles one level " run " over a comparatively shallow bed. Con- sequently I soon went ashore and walked ahead of the canoes, 86 NEWFOUNDLAND which the men pulled the whole day. On each side was dense forest of good-sized birch, white pine, "haps" (poplars), " vars " (firs), and rowan, which stretched away in unbroken masses to the distant hill-crests, situated about five miles on each side of the river bed. Here and there stood up lonely old leafless giants. So to lOO feet high, the relics of bygone " timber " that had been burnt from forty to forty-five years ago. There seemed to be no fish, for fish do not care for shallow running rivers, and consequently there were no birds to enliven the scene ; so we plodded away steadily till past nightfall, just reaching the woods opposite the lumber camp, where darkness had already fallen. The next morning (loth September) a boat passed us, carrying the " boss " of the lumber camp down stream. To our question, he called out that there were no men above the lumber camp, nor was anything known of the river beyond the Great Gull River, about twenty miles up stream. This was satisfactory, for we now hoped to see deer at any moment. However, we plodded all day steadily on without seeing any sign of game, although about sunset I began to see some fresh tracks. The following day we encountered a series of small rapids which took the men some time to negotiate, and here I saw the first birds, a flock of twelve old male goosanders, locally called " Gossets," diving and chasing trout in the roughest place. They were all moulting their "pinions" and unable to fly, but rushed up stream over the surface of the water at a surprising rate. "Twilliks," too, were plentiful all along the river. The greater yellowshank ( Tota^ms melanoleucus), locally known as " Twillik," is very common in all the Newfoundland rivers during the summer and autumn. It arrives in May and EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 87 departs in October, after the breeding season. A regular winter visitor to America and the West Indies, it is there known as the "tell-tale," "tell-tale tattler," "winter yellow- leg," and "stone-snipe." The birds are commonly seen in Newfoundland singly or in small parties of four or five. They love to run about the stones, catching flies, or upon the boggy and sandy shores of the lakes, where their atti- tudes and movements much resemble our native greenshank. I have seen a party on feed sweeping their bills from side to side in the shallow water, after the manner of the avocet, and thus they obtain minute insects. When you approach a small flock they become very noisy, uttering a harsh note, something like the cry of the greenshank, but louder. If " cornered " in the angle of a lake or stream, they run anxiously to and fro, bobbing up and down with their bodies just Hke the redshank. In the British Isles it has only occurred once, namely at Scilly, in September 1906. In the afternoon we came to a place where the sides of the river were broken, low-lying, and full of swamps covered with long grass and alder. So I kept a sharp look-out, sitting down constantly to spy ahead, and pausing to exa- mine the broken leads where stags had been in the habit of breaking down from the forest to the river. I had come to the mouth of the Great Gull River, and the canoes had just caught me up, when, giving a glance across the stream, I saw the white stern of a deer feeding away round the corner of an island. Saunders paddled me across the stream, and I landed on the marsh where the animal had disappeared. Walking rapidly up-wind, there was no sign of it, however, so we continued our way up a branch stream, commanding another island containing a dense alder thicket. I was about to 88 NEWFOUNDLAND turn back to the canoes when there was the sound like a stick cracking, and the next moment the top of a caribou stag's horn appeared above the bush about 130 yards away. The next moment it disappeared, though I could now see the line of the animal's back. Another moment and the stag would be gone for ever, so I rested the Mannlicher on the top of Little Bob's head, and let go. The stag instantly plunged forward into view, showing at once that it was hard hit ; I could now see the head and shoulders, so I fired again, and the beast, with a bullet in the neck, immediately fell dead. Saunders soon brought the canoes round, and, crossing over the island, we examined our first prize, which proved to be a fair beast of about five years old. Sandy now joined us, and we lost no time in taking the best of the haunch meat, fat, and tongue, and in half-an-hour had continued our journey, feeling very happy, as every hunter does when his camp is well supplied with the food on which men alone can hunt. Shortly after passing the park-like scenery on the banks of the Great Gull River, the river narrowed again, and fresh sign of deer — the tracks of big stags only — became more frequent. It was just getting dusk, and I was thinking of stopping to make camp for the night, when I heard the subdued roar of the waterfall about a mile ahead, so we resolved to press on in the dark, reaching a clump of timber close behind the fall itself, and at a spot where portaging would be easy on the following day. Taken all round, this was about the most successful trip I ever made, but, just as there are always days in every hunter's life in which everything seems to go wrong and nothing is right, I instance the following as an example of f see Ithe diatdy tinued ingot td the so we ;and )leof ( EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 91 of the waterfall below, or the "clinking" of white-winged crossbills passing overhead. I looked dreamily through the smoke of my pipe away up stream. All of a sudden some big animal burst from the timber about 500 yards up stream on the north bank. It turned sideways, and I saw that it was a large black bear. With that long, swinging stride so characteristic of the genus, she, for I am sure the beast was a female that had brought forth cubs this summer, advanced rapidly down the river, here about 100 yards broad. The head was held very low, and the legs struck me as being longer and more spindly in proportion to the body than those of other bears I have seen. Every now and then she raised her head, examining the character of the bushes, and once stopped and went up to a small tree, which I afterwards found to be a wild cherry, and clawed down a sprig or two which she munched as she continued the journey down stream. All this time the bear was rapidly advancing nearer to me, and I had already chosen the best spot on the other side of the river where I should fire at her. I had a perfect position, my back comfortably tucked in the cranny of a ledge of rock and both legs firmly planted against the asperities of a slate slab. The distance would be just about 100 yards when she came opposite to me, and I was beginning to feel that there would be a certainty of an easy shot. But " the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang oft agley." I looked up at the oncoming bear, and, to my intense disappointment, saw her suddenly leave the river shore and plunge into the forest. The bank was steep at this point, and it seemed a most unlikely place for a "lead" to exist; yet, as I after- wards found, there was one there which had been daily used by bears. 92 NEWFOUNDLAND A slender hope now seized me, that the bear might work on through this belt of young spruce and cross the little brook coming down from the open barren. Accordingly, I kept a sharp look-out, and in a few minutes was rewarded by seeing a small willow tree violently agitated about 150 yards up the left bank of the stream. It now seemed possible that one might see and get a shot at the bear after all, though not an easy one, as she was likely to cross the brook, on which I could see her plainly. Hardly had I fixed myself into shooting position when she came swiftly down the bank, and at a quick walk entered the shallow stream. At this moment I fired, and saw the bear half flounder on to her side, but instantly recover and dash up the bank again out of sight. She was undoubtedly hard hit, for, had the shot missed, I should have seen the bullet strike the water above or below. There was no hurry, for I expected the bear to run a hundred yards or so and fall dead, so I sat down with considerable satisfaction, lit another pipe, and awaited the coming of the men with the first portage loads. In about ten minutes Bob and Sandy appeared, staggering under a weight of provisions. The noise of the waterfall had drowned the sound of the shot, so that their astonishment was great when I told them that I thought I had killed a bear. Whilst explaining the whole story to Saunders and pointing out the spot where Mrs. Bruin had disappeared, suddenly another large bear appeared at the edge of the barren, about 500 yards away. It was evidently the mate of the pair, and he walked quietly down in the stream and started to cross into the timber where the wounded one had gone. The shot was nearly a hopeless one, owing to the distance and the fact that I had to stand up to see the object at all. The EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 93 little bullet, however, went very near, and splashed the water all over Mr. Bear, who got a dreadful fright, and made off with all possible speed. Bob Saunders and I now crossed the river, and found the spot where the wounded bear had entered the timber ; indeed there was no mistaking it, for a trail of blood which looked as if it had been poured out of a tea-kettle led away into the densest bush. There was now a possibility of trouble, so I sent Bob back for the other Mannlicher. The young spruce trees were growing so closely together that in many places we had to crawl on our hands and knees, along the actual paths which the bears themselves had made. It was like hunting a flea in a box of matches. In the worst places, if one stood up, it was not possible to force a way ahead. Consequently we had to be careful, as the bear was pro- bably not dead, and we should not see it at a greater distance than 5 or 6 feet. The blood trail itself showed a firm dark line on the bright yellow green moss, so we easily followed it for about 500 yards ; then we came to a round knoll of soft wet moss, which plainly told its tale. The wounded bear had just been lying here, and we had moved her. There was the imprinted mark of her whole left flank and the bullet exit hole mark, where the blood had flowed freely. The poor beast was hit right through the lungs, and the bullet, a solid one with the nose well filled, had not sufficiently expanded. Immediately the bear had risen to run from us the blood had ceased to flow. I suppose that the cold wet moss must have staunched the wound, for the blood marks ceased. We threshed around for ten minutes or so, could find no further trail, for the soft paw of the plantigrade leaves no spoor on moss, and then sat down to deplore our ill-luck. 94 NEWFOUNDLAND What would I not have given for a Httle Norwegian elk- hound at that moment. The bear may have gone a mile or two, or she may have been lying dead within a hundred yards of us ; at any rate we were now incapable of following her, so reluctantly we fought our way back to the river, and tried to make as light of the loss as possible. The black bear is still fairly numerous in the unfrequented parts of Newfoundland, but every year sees a diminution in their numbers owing to the attacks of the Indians. In 1822 Cormack describes them as abundant, and speaks of the numerous " bear-roads " which he found in all parts of the interior. Now such paths are rarely seen. Every year in the month of September the Indians repair to the high look- outs, and watch the open tracts of country covered with blueberry patches. Here they spy, stalk, and shoot the bears which come to feed at dawn and sunset. In this manner they kill from three to nine bears apiece, and few escape except those which live almost exclusively in the forests. In years when berries are scarce, many bears repair to the edge of the salt water and feed on caplin and fish refuse. Some- times they attack the farmers' sheep, and I know of one instance in which a bear swam a mile to an island in Fortune Bay, and killed twenty-five sheep in a single night. They are slow and poor swimmers, and the Esquimaux of Labrador go so far as to say that they cannot swim at all. But this is incorrect. About the end of April the black bear emerges from its winter retreat in some rocky cave or old tree stump, and commences to feed on roots and leaves of various trees. In May the female brings forth her two young ones, and tends them carefully until the autumn, when they shift for themselves. They keep closely to the woods until July, when Six Hkads Killed on the Gander, September 1903 EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 97 In the old records of Newfoundland we read that the white Polar bear was a regular winter visitor to the coast in the seven- teenth century. Since then its appearance became rarer as time went on. Until 1825, a few were always found on the ice off White Bay by the spring sealers, and an odd one killed on the shore, but now it can only be recorded as very scarce. A Newfoundland lady, who was present at the following incident, has told me that twenty-five years ago the inhabitants of the village of Wittlebay were coming out of church one Sunday morning, when they were startled by seeing an immense Polar bear strolling down the hill close to the church door. There were no guns at hand, so four men bravely attacked it with axes and killed it. A dispute as to the possession of the hide arising, the skin was cut into four pieces, and may be seen in certain houses of the village to this day. A propos of this strange method of division, which has always been in force in Newfoundland, I am reminded of a true incident which occurred about eighty years ago in Fortune Bay, when the disgraceful practice of " wrecking " was by no means extinct. A barque which had been lured on to the rocks by false lights, placed there by some good Christian belonging to a certain village which shall be nameless, had on board a cottage piano, an instrument which neither of the boat's crews which claimed it had ever seen before. The matter was, however, eventually settled by its being sawn in two pieces, one party taking the treble and the other the bass. Wrecking as a profitable industry ceased to flourish in Newfoundland about fifty years ago, "in the dear delightful days of Arcadian simplicity, when port wine was a shilling a bottle, and the colony had no debt." The Newfoundland Government had much difficulty in stamping it out, owing to the fact that the people of the south coast had indulged in 98 NEWFOUNDLAND the nefarious practice for centuries, and could with difficulty be persuaded that they were doing anything that was not perfectly legitimate. Whatever came ashore as the flotsam and jetsam of the ocean was theirs by right, so they con- sidered, and many cases of a shocking character were dealt with by Judge Prowse, who was sent to enforce the law. "Seafaring people," he says, "look upon wrecks as their lawful prizes, gifts sent to them direct by Providence, and their views about these fatalities were characteristic. Mostly the vessels contiiined valuable cargoes, but occasionally it was otherwise. I heard an old Irishwoman declare about one 'wrack,' 'I don't know what God Almighty is thinking about, sending us a terrible bad fishery, and then an old Norwegian brig full of nothing but rocks.' "In one instance I was sent to look after a very bad case of absolute piracy. The fishermen attacked the master and crew whilst their schooner was ashore, cut her masts, and forcibly took away all her gear and stores. I had to put up at the principal settler's house in this little cove. I well knew all were implicated in the wreck. They asked me to go in and see the mistress of the house, an old woman suffering from asthma. After I had told her of some remedies, she gasped out, ' Oh, why did they come so near the shore ? Oh, why did they come so near the shore to timpt the poor peoples?' "Wrecking cases always gave me capital sport, as they all happened in very out-of-the-way places, where there were very good grouse-moors. I once shot a whole covey of a dozen birds with the police, witnesses, and prisoners acting as beaters and markers. The grouse were scattered and rose in pairs. I had to swing round each time to shoot the second bird. The last killed was a very long shot, and EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 99 it fell into a crevice of the rock ; one of the prisoners, a long, slim fellow, was lowered down by the heels to recover it. All the accused and witnesses in the case were keen hunters. I knew right well that if I had made a bad shot, neither my legal acumen nor sound judgment would have won their appreciation half as much as straight shooting."' But we have wandered away to the south coast, and must return to the Gander. Looking up the river from the lower fall of the Gander was, I think, one of the most beautiful landscapes that I have seen in my expeditions in Newfoundland. The rocks in the foreground were of the most lovely colour, a rich blue grey. Over these poured masses of amber water of pellucid clearness. Little brooks and shining barrens peeping out from amidst the dark forest on the right bank, led the eye away up to distant hills of the most intense blue, whilst in the middle distance, away up the glistening river, were islands covered with the finest "haps" (poplars) in New- foundland, every leaf a-quiver in the blazing sun. On the left bank the land rose in rugged and distorted shapes, and was all covered with a medley of golden birch and scarlet rowan, and trees standing clear against a brown mass of tall "vars," and spruces in whose depths the glints of sun- light mixed with the purple shadows. Yet all this hetero- geneous mass of colour seemed to blend, for nature makes no mistake with her paints, whilst for once the composition of the picture v/as perfect and worthier of a more skilful brush than mine. "Rolling Falls" of the Gander is such a subject as only a great artist could do justice to. About two miles up the river was another small water- fall, not so heavy as the lower one, but nevertheless neces- ' Cornhill Magazine, K^xW 1904. 100 NEWFOUNDLAND sitating a portage of the whole of the outfit. Here we saw some salmon jumping, which showed that the lower fall offered no bar to the progress of fish. After a hearty meal in the blazing sun, we resumed our journey up continuous " rattles " of water, through which the men made excellent progress, in spite of the fact that the rocks were covered with "slob," i.e. a green slimy weed. We were now in quite virgin country, where the foot of the only two white men had ever trodden, once when Howley made his survey of the river with two Indians, some time in the seventies, and Mr. Willis in October 1901, and again when Mr. Willis went there on a prospecting trip. There was not a sign that Indians had ever been here ; not an axe mark was seen on the trees above this, and we were far beyond the ken of the "White-Ends." The Indians, too, would never come here except for beaver, and of beaver there were none in the main stream. I experienced, there- fore, the delight that every hunter feels in knowing that he has no neighbours except the deer and the bears, and that at any minute he may strike a new country, the veri- table home of the mighty antlered monarchs, and such a sanctuary as the first travellers in the Rockies and South Africa discovered. In a minor form I did discover such a sportsman's paradise, for I do not suppose any previous traveller in Newfoundland ever cast his eyes on so many fine caribou stags in a short time, as I was fortunate enough to do during the next fortnight. The bear incident was not the only unlucky event of this day, September 12. I must follow out its incidents with full confession to the setting of the sun. I had travelled on about a mile ahead of the boats, and was keeping a sharp look-out ahead, as well as on the many fresh tracks of big I'lM.l'AKlN.. JIKM' Uk.W I K 1)AM ON IHK Url'hK C'.ANDKK EXPEDITION UP THE GANDER RIVER 101 stags that were imprinted wherever there was sand betwixt the stones. About 4 p.m. I came to a broad sweep of the river, where a fine view expanded itself. Opposite to me was a large wooded island — " Twillik " Island the Indians call it — with shallows at its bend, and just a likely-looking crossing-place for stags. So I sat down and slapped con- tinuously at the black flies and mosquitoes, which were very troublesome. Opposite was a backwater beyond the island. There was much grass, bog bean, and alder there, and a good place for a stag to " shove out," so I had more than one chance to see game. Half-an-hour went by, and the canoes had just reached me as I stood up to resume the journey, when, looking across the backwater, I saw a grand stag emerge from the woods and begin to feed without concern. I immediately sat down and got ready to fire. The distance seemed about 250 yards, for the beast looked large, and I felt I could hit him. First shot, a miss. The stag raised his head and looked about. I could not see where the bullet struck ; took again a full sight, and fired. The stag stepped forward evidently untouched. I fired again — same result. "What distance are you shootin' at?" said Bob hurriedly. "Two hundred and fifty yards," I replied laconically, " He's four hundred if he's a yard," replied Saunders. " He's not," I said obstinately, and fired again without result. The stag now ran along the marsh looking for his " lead " in the forest. Presently he found it, and I let go the last cartridge in the magazine as he disappeared from view. I stood up, feeling annoyed, as I was quite steady when making the shots. Immediately I came to my feet I saw that Bob was right, and that I had far under-estimated the 102 NEWFOUNDLAND distance. Across the river was at least two hundred yards, and from thence to the forest edge was as far again. I acknowledged my mistake, and humbled myself before Saunders, whose powers of judging distances over two hundred yards were usually at fault. This time, however, he had been quite right. The stag seemed to carry a very fine head, but then they always do when they get away. We travelled on for a mile or two, and then camped for the night on a steep bank of larch, and the night closed in with heavy rain, which put a finishing touch to this unfortunate day. CHAPTER Y A HUNTER'S PARADISE The next day being Sunday, we rested, and on Monday, 14th September, continued up stream, the men being greatly hampered by the shallowness of the water, the "slobby" rocks, and a somewhat tempestuous head-wind. Saunders fell in up to his neck four times during the morning, but the day was not cold, so we worked on five miles to the mouth of Migwell's Brook, a small stream that enters the Gander on the north bank about fifty miles from the lake. I was about two miles ahead of the canoes, and sat behind a large rock. It was blowing half a gale, and the time being midday, I hardly expected to see game. As the wind swayed and rocked the forest at my back, one became accustomed to the crackle and brush of twig upon twig and bough against bough, but somehow more than once I could not help thinking that I heard dry wood " snapping " when there was a lull. The inner consciousness of doubt soon resolved itself into a certainty that some large animal was breaking down a tree close beside me, so I dropped my book, cocked the rifle, and looked over the high bank just as wild cherry was violently shaken almost in my face. " Now, Mr. Bruin, I have you at last," I said to myself, in the excitement of the moment. But it was not a bear after all, but a great caribou stag, with horns evidently on the decline, staring me in the face at a distance of about six 103 104 NEWFOUNDLAND yards. I have never been so near a wild deer before, and he backed away from the cherry tree before deciding to make a bolt of it. One moment we both stood still and stared at one another, and having mutually decided that our heads were unnecessary, he gave a plunge and was gone. The stag had hardly vanished when a tinkle of falling stones made me look to the left, and there I saw another good-sized stag carrying about thirty points, walking leisurely along the open stones away from me. He gave me one proud glance, ran a few steps, and then settled to a walk, at which pace he continued till lost to sight round a bend in the river. He was a fine young stag of perhaps five years, but the tops were unfinished, wherefore not deemed good enough in new ground like this. I followed the track of this stag some little distance, and it led me north to low sandy hills and into a beautiful broken country, all leads, marshes, opens, and clumps of spruces, just the place for "summering" stags. I saw, too, five or six small larches newly " stripped," where stags had cleaned their horns recently, so when the men came up I decided to stop a day and hunt. The sun was low as Saunders and I left the camp. Glancing up the stream from the point of Migwell's Brook, we at once noticed two young stags come from a lead on the north bank, and across the river. Everything seemed to show that we were now in a great stag country. The does had all passed on out to the open marshes to the south, and the old males would remain here solitary or in pairs for at least another fortnight, before they, too, would follow, and seek them in the open marshes of the high country. We crept noiselessly up the sandy hills till we came to a hillock rising higher than the rest. Here I ascended a larch, and spied the surrounding country for a mile or two. A HUNTER'S PARADISE 105 Much of it was very " blind," but towards the river there were many open spaces and little hills where game might be viewed. The sun was already setting when we decided to move on a little farther before returning, as a dip, fringed by large trees, hid the course of the brook, and many of the leads trended northwards along the waterside, always a favourite walk for deer. We had hardly rounded the first hillock when I perceived the white stern of a large stag on another little hill about one hundred yards away. The beast was feeding quietly, so I got out the telescope and examined him. "He seems to have a lot of points. Bob," I said, "but horns look thin." At this moment the stag raised his noble head to chew the cud, and I had a good side view of it. That movement decided his fate. An instant later I sat with my back to a tree, and put two bullets into him. At the first he never winced, although a mortal blow, but on receiving the second he rolled over quite dead. As I rose to my feet a movement on another hillock to the right caught my eye, and immediately a second stag, nearly, but not quite so good as the first, stepped into full view. The glass was soon surveying his cranial ornaments, which, though carrying about thirty points, looked thin, whilst the "bays" were poor, so he was allowed to depart. He gave a " whoof " of terror as soon as I rose, and, erecting the hair of his scut, dashed off at full gallop. This was the third time on the same day that I had seen two stags together, which shows the disposition of the male caribou for society during his period of summer seclusion. We now walked up to our first warrantable prize, which proved to carry a better head than I had at first thought. The horns were not heavy, but carried thirty-five points, 100 NEWFOUNDLAND and all set in those beautiful wild curves that go to make up a really good head. He had good double front shovels prettily interlocked, and very handsome wild " tops " to the horns, containing several extra straggly points, which add so much to the beauty of any head. At any rate I felt pleased with our first trophy, and it was with light hearts we re- turned to camp, where Bob at once set to work to skin, whilst Sandy prepared an excellent supper. Next day Bob and I wandered far to the north, getting into some abominable ground, from which it took us some hours to extricate ourselves. The farther we went from the river and Migwell's Brook, the less sign of deer was notice- able, and the worse the timber became. Just as we left camp we saw two stags, but their heads were of no account, and in the evening two more crossed the river and came walking by the camp not more than fifty yards away. One of these was a regular old patriarch. His horns were narrowed to mere thin spires, and I believe he was partly deaf, for it was not till I had thrown two stones at him, and then warmed him up with a swan shot from my catapult, that he condescended to take any notice of me. Many of these stags which I now saw had probably never seen man before, for on several occasions, when the wind was right, one could take surprising liberties with them, without their seeming alarmed. Never in my life did I regret the loss of a camera so much as during the next fortnight. In the hurry of packing I had left it at the station at Glen- wood, and it was not till I returned there that it came in for any use. During our absence Sandy said that a stag with a fair head walked by the camp between him and the river, a distance of fourteen yards. The unsuspecting animal had stopped a moment to observe our cook peeling potatoes, and A HUNTER'S PARADISE 107 had then resumed his journey down stream without altering his pace from a walk. It may seem to the reader, if he only knows a little about big-game hunting, that to shoot such tame animals is almost devoid of sport, and in many cases he would be right in the case of the caribou. It is the other chances that produce the necessity of quick decision, with long and sometimes difficult shots, which make the chase of the caribou a fascinating one. The object of the hunter in new ground where game is abundant is naturally to secure the best heads, and an exceptional trophy may sometimes be obtained in the easiest manner. On the other hand, I had several times seen a stag rush out of the forest with a clatter of stones, scamper into the river as if in fun, stand a minute or two in the stream and drink, and then gallop or swim across to the farther bank, where he will only glance round for a second before disappearing for good up some lead. They are not frightened, but are perhaps in a hurry to reach some favourite feeding ground in a secluded glade back from the river. In such a case you may be five to eight hundred yards from the stag when you first view him, and have to strain every muscle to run that four or five hundred yards which brings you within a long shot. Then, tem- porarily blown, you must sit at once to take your shot, and have no time to hunt out a good position. The wind may be wrong, or the stag may just walk to the water's edge, drink for a second or two, and then turn again into the forest. During these few minutes, too, you must have your glass handy to see whether his head is good enough (and I do not know any deer whose horns are so difficult to judge in a short period of sight. Sometimes at one angle they look splendid, and at another quite poor, so 108 NEWFOUNDLAND you are torn with conflicting emotions in those few minutes of intense activity and excitement). This form of the chase, which I may appropriately call " river-hunting," offers both the easiest and the most difficult chances at deer. In the open marshes the caribou stag is generally at your mercy. You have time to circumvent him and to lay your plans. If you are anything of a shot and take care not to walk about too much, or give him the wind, he is yours. But by the river it is different. The stag appears ; you must shoot at once or run like a hare to get into range, for he may disappear at any second, and generally, too, your shot is taken at the wrong end of the beast, though that is not of much moment, as in the old days of inferior rifles. The following morning, 15th September, we continued to ascend the Gander. A strong head-wind was blowing, and the men experienced much difficulty in keeping on their feet and preventing our frail craft from breaking. I walked on for about five miles, and then sat down to spy as the country suddenly opened up, and I saw, for the first time since leaving the lake, a high, open, sparsely- wooded country. The men with the canoes arrived about midday, and, just as Bob came opposite to me, he slipped off a stone and fell in over his neck. "This is my lucky day," he said philosophically; "only been in twice this morning." We sat down to dinner on the bank, and, after much wrangling, I got him to change his clothes, which he did with many protests. Little Bob had half " shifted " when, it seems, he was overcome with curiosity as to the exceed- ingly " gamy-looking " nature of the mountain opposite, so, without saying a word, he captured my telescope, which he had now come to use with some success, and slipped off Elev Brass Cartridges Chewed by Black. Bears '■.'■" v''^« '•■■*' ' ■ -;v' i'' .; ■- ■• ./.^ *^^B^^^^B^^H^^ " j^tiT^^L- ^^^-~j Sandy Butt at \\ lirk A HUNTER'S PARADISE 109 in the bushes. Like a good man he had gone to spy the hill from the only point it could be properly seen, namely, to the marsh on the north bank. In one minute he came running back, saying — " Dere's a great lump of a stag above us, 'bout 300 feet." There was only one way up on to this high ground, and that was up a well-worn caribou path, which seemed to lead directly down-wind to the point where Saunders said the stag was feeding. The wind was strong, and inclined to shoot our taint upwards, as I found on trying it with tobacco smoke. Nevertheless we decided to chance it. The path itself was beaten down with fresh tracks cross- ing a hillside marsh. Then it became suddenly dry and stony, and we wound up on to a tiny plateau with small clumps of birch. "'Twas 'bout here he was when I seen him," was Bob's remark, scarcely emitted than a loud rattle of stones pro- claimed that the stag was started. Fortunately, he galloped up the hill and then alongside it, giving me a full broadside. I had time to see his head was large and sufficiently good, without many points ; then, standing up to see him properly, I put the first bullet through his right horn. The chamber was immediately opened and closed, and I got in my second shot just as he was tearing into a droke of birch. The little missile went true, breaking both shoulders ; the stag performed a complete somersault like a shot rabbit, and was nearly dead when we came up to him. There was one thing remarkable about this deer, and that was his great size ; and Saunders, who was well qualified to speak on the subject, said he was the largest caribou stag he had ever seen in his life. An immense brute, nearly as big as a wapiti, it took all our efforts to turn him over in 110 NEWFOUNDLAND the place where he lay, and had we the space to have carried the complete skin, I should certainly have brought it home for the museum. Whilst Bob was attending to the head skin, I took the telescope to view the magnificent panorama that now spread itself before me. At our feet, glittering in the sunlight, was the Blue Gander, and up this beautiful river, so like our Tay in Scotland, one could see for four or five miles to the entrance of Little Gull River away to the west. At the back rose the mountains known as Serpentine Hill, of some 800 or 900 feet elevation, and spread out below, though gradually rising away to the north, was a succession of woods and open marshes, on any of which there was a good chance of seeing the great white-necked stag or a black bear. Bob had scarcely commenced his work, and I had not even begun to use the glass, for the prospect of the scene was in itself delightful, when looking down I saw another big caribou stag come out of the woods and walk quickly across a wide open marsh about half a mile below. One word to Bob was enough, and at a jog trot we set off downhill, passing through two small belts of timber and a mountain stream. Half the distance was overcome when it was deemed necessary to view the position of our quarry. Yes, there he was, right in the centre of the swamp, and either feeding or drinking, for his head was down. There was no particular hurry, so we advanced easily, and presently found ourselves overlooking the open marsh. Now there was nothing left but a good old-fashioned crawl with the cold water running in at your collar stud and out at your boots. This I did by myself till I reached a point within 200 yards from the stag, where seeing him so quiet I turned round and A HUNTER'S PARADISE 111 signalled to Bob so that we could discuss his respective merits. After examining the ground carefully I saw first that by making a flanking manceuvre I could probably come in again on the deer and reach a small island of bush, with a stunted larch in the centre, and should then be within lOO yards of the stag. This required care, as we had to cross an open of about 20 yards within view of the deer, but old Roman-nose seemed absorbed in a brown study, so this insult to his sight and intelligence was unnoticed, and we reached the desired haven. But what was the old fellow doing? His attitude in- dicated utter misery and woe. His head hung down, and ears flopped forwards like a sick donkey. He never moved from his position of dejection for ten minutes except once, when he lowered his nose into the marsh, and I could see him suck up the peat and muddy water. Now I had it : he was love-sick and taking in this stimulant to cool his passion. I daresay the reader, if he has killed deer in Scotland in October, will have noticed that certain stags when gralloched have nothing in their stomach but a peaty fluid. This is probably their only nutriment when in full rut, as the stag does not feed at this season, and seems to live for a week or two on his own previous condition. So, too, this old caribou stag must have been doing exactly the same, for when I cut him up I found nothing but this fluid in his stomach. It is probably a general habit of the whole genus Cervida during the season of love and war. We looked his head over very carefully. Brows fair, bays very good and strong, tops very moderate. I hesitated, and had decided to spare his life, as I hoped to get better. "You'll have to shoot him," said Bob; "he is very good, and a've seen many a season when a' should have been 112 NEWFOUNDLAND pleased if a' brought out a head like that from the Terra- Nova country." Still I thought it best to spare him. " Whistle him up, Bob," I said; "we'll see what he looks like when he holds his head up." My companion whistled once, twice, and then gave a shout. Ye Gods ! what a sudden change from the listless donkey to the alert king of the forest. His head was up in the air now, and he looked totally different ; a fine heavy head, and certainly worth possessing. As I raised the rifle he bolted at full gallop straight away, and I made a very lucky shot as he fled in full career, the bullet enter- ing at the back of his head and causing instant death. He fell so suddenly and with such force that he smashed the lower jaw to pieces and buried the antlers out of sight in the marsh, from which we had to unearth them. Like the other stag this was a very big old beast with a good massive head of thirty-two points. The work of cutting up the deer and preserving the head would occupy some time, so I accompanied Saunders back to camp, and then spent the evening spying from the hillside. Just before sunset I saw a fine stag about a mile away across the river. I could see he had grand tops and very thick horns. He wandered into a thick forest, but the time being too late to go for him I returned to camp. We were, however, destined to meet later. r5 «U_ ^3l,.h. ,' ' CHAPTER VI HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER AND RETURN TO GLENWOOD My water babies both worked hard that night, Bob attending to the head skins and Sandy cleaning the skulls, so that next day we were able to make an extended expedition to the unexplored country to the south. About an hour's walk brought us to the summit, and the weather being delightfully warm and clear, we could see some ten miles in every direction. To the west a long silver streak embayed in forest disclosed a lake about four miles long running north and south, but whether Little Gull River flows through and out of this sheet of water I am unable to say, as I had no time to follow the river, which at its junction with the Gander is fully as large as the more important stream.^ Beyond Little Gull River, and to the north, the country was once more blind and dense, which was something in the nature of a disappointment, as we had hoped to find it similar in character to our present surroundings. On reaching the summit of the southern hills, over which large numbers of female caribou had recently passed, we came within view of typical Newfoundland high ground scenery — an endless succession of small and large lakes, marshes, and scattered timber, all of which pointed east and west. The climb to the summit had entailed some exertion, though the going was good, so we sat and admired ' I afterwards found that the lake, which I named, was joined to the Little Gull by a brook. 114 NEWFOUNDLAND the scenery till an exclamation from Sandy, and the direction of his gaze, caused us to turn our eyes towards a large open marsh about half a mile below. There was a white-neck stepping out proudly like Macgregor on his native heath. He seemed to carry fine horns, so Saunders and I made all haste to head him for a nearer inspection. This was not quite so easy as it looked, for the stag was walking down-wind very fast and had already a con- siderable start. Moreover, a small forest rose about a quarter of a mile in front of the deer, and for this he was making to lie up for the day. We had to run, and run fast, over the worst kind of bog, into which we frequently sank to our middles ; but, on the other hand, the chase lay downhill, and this was a distinct advantage to us. When we came within 400 yards of the stag I saw him looking about uneasily, so told Bob to sit and await my return, and, making an effort, ran right past and headed him. The sun was playing upon him, and I saw by his alert carriage and quick movement that he was not quite adult. His head, too, which looked fine from above, now underwent a considerable reduction on closer inspection. The brows and the bays were first class, but he carried only a snag on the left brow and the tops were short and undeveloped, so I let him pass by unmolested. After this diversion we tramped for the whole day to examine the country to the south. The farther we travelled the worse the going became, till at last walking became a considerable effort. It was some time, in fact, before we could get back to the high and dry ground, from which we could alternately spy and cook our dinner ; but nothing more was seen, so we returned to camp feeling that a hard day's work had been accomplished. HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 115 The next day, Friday, September 17, was rather an inter- esting one, because I killed a fine stag through a seemingly trivial piece of observation ; and to show that in caribou hunting a man's ears are often as important as his eyes, I will give the circumstances. It was an exquisite autumn morning, clear as crystal, and not a breath of wind stirring ; a few golden birch leaves, early forerunners of coming decay, were floating down the river, and up on the hillside you could hear the jays whistling and talking to one another about the excel- lent food supply they had discovered. The great white- headed eagle passed overhead, coming from some of the fish lakes of the interior, and a belated osprey (who must have found fishing for his dinner in the shallows of the Gander a laborious necessity) circled round the camp. According to my usual custom, I started up stream soon after daybreak, leaving the men to follow when the canoes were packed. Not one of the least important things in this form of still-hunting is to sit down frequently and, with senses alert, to interpret the manifold signs of nature — in fact, to sit and listen. After going for a mile, I found on the north bank the regular crossing-place of a big stag. Evidently, too, it had used the same spot to traverse the river morning and evening for the past two months, for the indentations showed a curious physical defect in one of the right fore hoofs, which was unusually elongated and bent inwards. That old fellow had been across the river about an hour before my advent. There was discoloured water in his spoor, and close alongside fresh droppings. So I sat down and listened. The grey curtain of midges arose to float in a mazy dance in the sun. The black flies, though losing their vicious- 116 NEWFOUNDLAND ness, nevertheless attended to me personally ; a few scattered ouananiche rose at the floating insects, and far away down the stream I could see my "wet bobs" lugging, drawing, and pushing their handy little craft against the swiftly- flowing stream. It was delightful to sit and smoke, and enjoy the charming dolce far nienie laziness of basking in the sun, and wondering whether the good people in Sussex were still shivering under umbrellas and mackintoshes, as they had been doing during May, June, July, and August in the year of grace 1903. One or two of my friends had even cast eyes of pity upon me for coming to those "dreadful Arctic regions," as they fondly imagined Newfoundland to be. And yet how different it was. How nice to lie on the moss amidst the sun-warmed stones where thoughts were singing rivers and the dews of morning shone, and to listen for the bumping of the canoes round the bend. But pleasurable thoughts and the contemplated enjoyment of ten minutes of that masterpiece, " The Experiences of an Irish R.M.," were abruptly terminated by the breaking of a small stick two hundred yards away on the far bank. I only just heard it, it was almost a sound striking one's inner consciousness, yet when a man has hunted all kinds of birds and beasts, as I have done for years, the mind is soon alive to natural explanations and quick to read them. It might have been caused by some small mammal, but except the varying hare, an ermine, or a small vole, there are no small beasts to speak of in the country. A bird would not have done it, or the sound would be quickly repeated. So I listened attentively. Yes, there it was again. This time unmistakable — the gradual crushing break of some large animal treading on dry wood. The river was rather deep on the far side, so I had to HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 117 wait a quarter of an hour before Saunders came, and a ferry over became possible. Then telling the men to wait and not to make a sound, I climbed the bank, took off my boots, and crept into the dense timber. At the very spot from whence the sounds had proceeded was the fresh track of old Curly Toe. He had trodden on a piece of rotten pine, the evidence of which was designated in scattered chips. I advanced as quickly as possible, fearful almost of placing my feet on the ground, for the stag was nearly certain to be within a hundred yards of me in that " droke " of spruce and alder. The track was easy to follow, and I made it out for three or four hundred yards going hillwards. Then I made a cast back, and stumbled on the home of the stag, scores of beds beaten hard and dry, with piles of old and fresh manure all around. There was one bed full of hairs that looked as if the stag had just sprung from it, and had been scared, for several pebbles of wet dung lay therein, often the sure sign of deer suddenly scared. I was looking at this, stooping down, when my ear caught the tinkle of stones being moved, followed by a subdued splash. My men I knew were too well trained to create this disturbance, so guessing its cause I rushed helter - skelter through the opposing stems towards the river. As I burst through the last alders I saw the stag looking about, very frightened, and standing up to his knees in the river about a hundred yards away. To fall into a sitting position was the work of an instant — good tops and thick horns at once decided that — and as the deer swung round to go I fired. The bullet took him about five inches too far back. Then off he went, full gallop, clattering up the shallows of the river, and sending the spray flying in all directions. I had a better shooting position than such a hurried seat usually offers, and 118 NEWFOUNDLAND so when I let go the next two shots, I had the satisfaction of seeing them both strike the flying deer. One went through his side, and the last raked him from end to end ; so he stopped, floundered forward in the river, and was dead by the time I reached him. I looked upon the capture of this fine head as the result of simple reasoning, though Saunders regarded the affair in a somewhat more exaggerated fashion. Had I not heard that first gentle crack, led up to by the sight of those hoof-prints, old Curly Toe and his antlers would probably still be dodging backwards and forwards along the narrow leads of the Upper Gander. This was without doubt the stag with the fine tops which I had spied late in the evening two days previously, and he must only just have returned to his lair when so rudely disturbed. The horns were not large, but very massive, and the head one of high quality, with thirty points. At midday we decided to camp, as the country to the north seemed fairly open and worth a visit. As the canoes came to a halt, and we prepared to relieve them of their contents, a large stag came out on to the river bank, and stood surveying us within sixty yards. His horns were long and with few points, which accounted for the lack of evil intention on our part, so after a prolonged stare he swung round and disappeared in the forest again. In the afternoon a long tramp through a dense country resulted in nothing, and we returned to camp just in time to see two fine stags cross the river about a quarter of a mile below. It was plain that real difficulties with the canoes had now commenced. Nothing but basswood, and that of the finest quality, would have withstood the bumping and hauling over sharp rocks that these little boats had undergone. Both were well " shaved," and the new one had swollen and burst Diamond Cut Diamond HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 119 slightly at the bottom. With every care, they would not hold out long unless the river offered some "steady" water, and this it showed no signs of doing, but rather became shallower at every mile. There was now no part in the whole stream that would take a man above the knees, and the river was not narrowing ; it was still about 1 20 yards wide, the same as twenty miles below. The autumn of 1902 had been an exceptionally dry season, but that of 1903 was infinitely drier, and quite ruined my original project, which was to reach a point beyond the Partridgeberry Hills, portage our stuff across to Dog Lake River, thence on to the Big Lake river system of Round, Brazil, Long Lakes, down through Bale d'Est to Baie d'Espoir, where I could have got a boat from the Indians to take me to the weekly steamer which calls in Hermitage Bay, and so eventually to St. John's. Only one man has yet accom- plished this journey, and if we had had water above Burnt Hill I think we should also have carried it out. On the morning of i8th September, the men were in constant difficulties ; one of the boats would catch on a sharp upright rock or narrow stony bar, and had either to be forcibly hauled over or some of the contents had to be taken out, portaged a few yards, and then replaced. It was slow, toilsome work for the men and disappointing, as I had now little chance of reaching the Partridgeberry Hills. By mid- day we had only accomplished three miles, having started soon after daybreak, and the Great Gander, which looks so important on the map at the inflow of the Little Gull River, was nothing more than a broad flat bank of stones, with a little water trickling through them. Little Gull River, where we stopped to have dinner, joins the Gander sixty miles from the lake and seventy-five from the sea. It is a much 120 NEWFOUNDLAND more important river than its marking on the map would indicate, for it brings down as much water as the main branch of the Gander does from the west. The afternoon was glorious, so I walked ahead about two miles, and saw much fresh sign of big stags about the river bank. Leads came from the north, and after joining the river pointed due south in many places, and the whole country seemed to indicate that we were in the heart of the main trails. In one place they were particularly abundant, the dry timber on the bank slopes being beaten to dust by the tramp of many feet. I sat down here to enjoy the sun and " A Double Thread," keeping the while a desultory look- out, for it was as yet a bit too early for any of the old fellows to be up and stirring. Still you never know when a stag is going to appear, and they often do so at the most unexpected moments. The canoes had just reached me, and I rose to resume the journey, when, looking up the river, I saw a stag walking swiftly out of the stream on the far side, and looking about for a path into the forest. It was hopeless to think of approaching a yard nearer, and he was a good 250 yards away. Instant decision was imperative, and as I could see that his tops were good, I sat down against a stone and put up my rifle just as he put his head into the forest. I fired, and distinctly saw the splash of the bullet on a patch of sand an inch above his back. He never winced, but his head and shoulders were now in the forest, and in another second he would disappear for ever. Taking the sight a trifle lower, I pulled again, and he came staggering down the bank, swayed for an instant or two, and plunged forwards into the river, into which he fell quite dead. The head was not large, but carried a great number of HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 121 small points, many of which were so doubtful that it was difficult to say what their precise number was, although thirty-eight fulfilled the old watch-guard test. After working on up stream for about three miles, the river suddenly became quite hopeless from the boatman's point of view. It was nothing but a bed of stones, and the men said they could proceed no farther without portaging. One of the canoes was full of water, and would stand but little more rough handling, so we decided to camp for the night and explore ahead on foot. A nice dry camping- ground was found on a steep hillside amongst a group of pines, and here Bob and Sandy set to work to cut supports for the lean-to, when, looking down the river, I saw a magni- ficent stag crossing it about a quarter of a mile below. He seemed to carry a fine set of horns, and marched up out of the water looking the picture of proud defiance, whilst his snowy neck and pendant ruffle shone like a star against the dark green undergrowth of the forest. In a moment he found his "lead" and disappeared, whilst I ran as hard as I could to try and catch him in a follow-on chase. In a few minutes I turned in at his well-beaten road, took up his spoor through the pine belt and on out to some semi-open country, composed of hard, dry, quartzy hills. Here I lost it, and climbed a high larch, which led to no better results, and so in the dark, feeling very footsore — for I had no boots on, having taken them off as soon as we halted — I made my way back to camp. Perhaps the supposition was unwarranted, but only natural as the stag got away ; yet for several evenings I cherished the idea that that stag was unusually fine. An exploration of the river for eight miles ahead dis- closed the fact that we were on the edge of " Burnt" country, 122 NEWFOUNDLAND which probably continued as far as the Partridgeberry Hills. About twelve miles up stream, on the left bank, rose the mountain marked in the map as Burnt Hill, seventy miles from the lake and eighty-five from the sea. This marks the farthest point reached by us, progress by means of the canoes being now impossible. In a moderately wet season there would be no difficulty in going much farther, but the drought had effectually stopped us, and we could do nothing more but pack ahead, which I had no wish to do. I only intended to kill one more stag, and that I hoped to get near my present camp. Evening came on, and I strolled up the river to meet Bob, who had gone on ahead. After waiting some time the shadows increased, and soon it would be too dark to see a deer, so I rose and tramped home. Turning the last corner I saw a stag crossing a shallow about 200 yards above my camp, and Sandy standing up black and prominent in front of the camp fire, lost in admiration. Having no wish to slay my excellent helper, I waited till the deer had moved half-way across the river, and I had time to thoroughly exa- mine his head. It was a grand one, with splendid tops. The stag was a good 300 yards away, and I dared not approach nearer, as what wind there was blew straight down stream. A long rock with a ridge afforded a comfortable place to lie upon for the shot, and my coat a suitable rest, so raising the rifle I found I could scarcely see the foresight. Putting it under the deer which was now standing broadside, I raised it slowly and pulled ; the bullet went over his back perhaps an inch or two ; at the second shot the same thing happened, and the stag moved fast for the far bank. As he walked I fired again a little lower, this time with success. The ball reached him, passed through his neck, and he simply lay down in the river-bed without other movement. i; ^>' Side \"ie\v of P"ortv-kuur Point Head Shot on the Upper Gander, September 1903 HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 123 The sight of this little episode was one of intense excite- ment to Sandy, who had watched the whole scene from the appearance of the stag opposite the camp. He had gazed upon it at about 60 yards distance, was prepared to swear to me on my return that he had seen the greatest stag that ever breathed, and was just becoming heart-broken as it walked away, when he saw me come round the bend of the river, "put three guns at 'um, and take 'um down." On the death of the stag the excitable Sandy was to be seen rushing wildly out of the woods into the river, waving in one hand his somewhat dilapidated hat and brandishing in the other a huge knife, which followed every occupation, from cutting trees to opening tin cans. Sandy took the river with sportsmanlike enthusiasm, and was speedily at work taking off the stag's head, haunches, and rump fat. This stag carried the first exceptional head which I had killed in Newfoundland. It was 42 inches long, and had very heavy " tops," with long points. The brows were each fully developed and of large size, and the whole head bore forty-four clearly defined points — a very unusual number. The only weak part was his bays or middle palms. It was pitch dark when Sandy had finished his cold task, and we sat long admiring the beautiful horns, com- paring it with others, and waiting for Little Bob. That individual turned up by-and-by, and, after a hearty supper and the head was skinned, we turned in just as the rain came down in torrents. During the night my faith in the excellence of the Newfoundland lean-to received a rude shock. The method of shelter with front open to the blazing logs is certainly brighter, warmer, and more cheerful than any tent, provided there is no heavy rain, and that the wind does not shift. If such unfortunate things occur there 124 NEWFOUNDLAND is nothing left but to get up in the middle of the night, rebuild camp in a fresh place, get wet through, and try to be as amiable as possible. On this occasion we were all too tired or sleepy to move, so we lay awake and let the rain come in upon us. My reindeer bag was soon soaked, so I put on my ulster and spent a miserable night in the utter- most corner of the cover sheet. The men also allowed themselves to be soaked, but that being the chronic con- dition of these human seals, they regarded the circumstances without comment. The morning broke still and fine as usual, and at very early breakfast we had a pow-wow as to the best course to pursue. I had shot six fine heads, and had no desire to kill any more deer. The main object of my journey had been accomplished, so I decided to return. This was not quite so easy as it sounds, for in spite of last night's rain the river had fallen a foot since we had come to this camp. Never- theless the men said they thought we could get out if the camp and canoes were portaged a mile down stream and over the worst of the stone banks. It took all day to get as far as Little Gull River, and then when Little Bob appeared his face was long and aspect gloomy. " One of the boats is completely bust up and t'other's cracked, and unless you shoot two more deer to lace the worst one in we'll never get down unless we build a raft and wait for the rain," he said. " How far can you get the boats to-night ? " I said. "Perhaps another mile," he said; "but it's bale and shove all the time, and killing work." I had no intention of waiting a fortnight or three weeks ' for rain and rafts, so decided to hunt about and kill two HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 125 more stags as soon as possible. Nor was opportunity long deferred. About half a mile below Little Gull River was an open stretch of the stream. To the eye it now looked just like a mass of pebbles, but the accession of the two rivers meeting had helped the Gander a bit, and there was a narrow thread of water about ten or twelve inches deep percolating through the stones. I sat down on the bank watching for a stag to appear down stream. There seemed little enough chance of killing one, as the wind was blowing hard towards the only likely part, and both evening and the rain were close at hand. It was already late, and I was about to walk up stream to see if any further accident had happened, when, taking one final glance towards the east, I saw a stag in the act of crossing the river about 800 yards away. He was gingerly picking his way through the stones of the river, and I could not understand how it was he did not get my wind. It seemed to be blowing directly towards him, and yet, as I afterwards found, must have been forced upwards after going for a hundred yards or so. Strange things happen in stalking, and the vagaries of air are amongst the most curious. More than once I have succeeded in getting within shot of an animal by hard running and by simply relying on its being too confused to make out the object of attack. No other course was open, so I resolved to try it now. I ran as hard as I could, keeping my eye all the time fixed on the stag so as to know the exact moment he "had" me, and I should lie down and open fire — 600, 500, 400, 300 yards — this was incomprehensible. At this distance I plainly saw the ripples of water going almost direct to the stag, which had now landed on a point and was feeding away stern-on. The 126 NEWFOUNDLAND river bank here bent inwards, and if I crossed in its "bay" the stag must get my wind, so I resolved to lie down and fire. The stag was outlined against the water — always a good mark for the shooter, for he sees at once whether he has fired too low or too high. The bullet must have grazed his back, for he sharply raised his noble head and stopped feeding, whilst I saw the projectile flick up the stream in almost a direct line. A little lower, bang! The stag flinched, turned round towards me, and hobbled a few paces up stream. I now saw for the first time that he had a great head, which is a bad thing for a man to know when he greatly desires to slay a beast. I had broken his left hind leg, high up, so having now the exact range I prepared to give him another shot. At that moment he started, and, like nearly all wounded animals, made up-wind as hard as his three legs could carry him. Then it was that I thanked my stars I had not tried to go nearer to him at the first chance, for he came full tilt up the shore, almost towards me, and up the " bay " of the stream to my left. By a fortunate circumstance the river bank was here very steep, and though he kept watching for an opening as he ran, I saw he would come fairly close to me if I lay still, and so reserved my fire. About a hundred yards away a broad opening appeared in the bank, and here the grand fellow stopped, turned slightly, and was about to spring upwards into the bush, when I fired again, and he at once lay struggling on the stones with a bullet through the upper part of the neck. His fine horns were swaying from side to side as I ran up, and I stood contemplating what is in some respects the best head I have ever shot. It is hardly necessary to say much about the head of an HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 127 animal whose portrait is given here, taken from various angles. It is enough to say that I had secured a perfect head of forty-nine points, the brows in particular being extra- ordinary. In his long experience Saunders said that he had never seen a more perfect caribou head, and that it was equal in quality to the head killed by Selous two years previously ; although not quite so large in the beam as that head, the brows and bays are considerably finer. It is not often that a sportsman has secured two "great" heads in one season, and so I was grateful for the necessity that had compelled me to shoot this last stag. Had not the canoe broken down he would certainly have been left alone. The men took about two hours doing the last mile from Little Gull River to where the fallen stag lay. It was becoming dark and threatening to rain, so, having no camera, I got out my sketch-book and made a rapid outline of the fallen monarch as he lay. Before I had finished heavy drops began to fall, so we made camp as quickly as possible, and had just got the shelter spread and a blazing birch fire started when the storm burst upon us. The rain fell in torrents till midnight, when it suddenly ceased. Such a downfall, though severe, made little differ- ence to the river, as the whole country was so parched that it would require two days of such rain to fill the burns and marshes, and so affect the main stream. All the next day (21st September) the men toiled down the river, and at dusk reached the Serpentine Hill, where, on the hills above, I had killed the two large stags. There was still about an hour of daylight left, so I went up the hill on the chance of finding a bear at the first carcase, immediately above our old camp. In the dusk I crept slowly forward through the bushes, and waited for some minutes to see if there was any 128 NEWFOUNDLAND movement. But nothing stirred, so I advanced to find that the remains of the first stag had been carried by bears about twenty yards up the hill. From a ridge about fifty yards up the hill I could see the marsh and the remains of the other deer, about half a mile below to the east. The telescope showed that the carcase was untouched, and in the same position as that in which we had left it. I sat some time after the sun had sunk, and was just thinking of returning to camp when my eye detected a black spot to the right of the marsh, away in the valley below. The glass lay beside me, and as I raised it the dark object, a large bear, suddenly moved and galloped out into the open. At first I thought something must have scared him — he lolloped along so steadily and with such decision. Presently he took a turn, and I saw that he was circling round the carcase of the dead stag, to see if any one had been there recently. Twice he stopped, stood up on his hind legs, and tried the wind. Then he again dropped on the fore-paws and resumed his lumbering gait. The black bear gallops in a most peculiar manner. He looks like some ridiculous pantomime animal playing the buffoon. Nearly all large creatures hold the head and neck out or up in accelerated locomotion, but the black bear, which is the only member of the genus I have seen actually gallop, puts his head down and swings it clumsily from side to side as if he were enjoying some huge joke. Presently Mr. Bruin stopped and remained motionless for two or three minutes directly down-wind from the carcase. I think he was enjoying the delicious prospect of a hearty meal, and wondering whether it would be safe to approach. Then just as I thought it time to be making my approach, he set off on another circuit of inspection. FoRTV-NiNE Point Head Shot near Little Gull River, September 1903 HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 129 By the time I had passed the intervening woods, and had begun to creep cautiously down a depression in the marsh, the bear was still lumbering around about 400 yards away, and far on the other side of the dead deer. My position was clearly near enough to the carcase, for if the animal chose to make another circuit of the prospective dinner, he would doubtless come within easy shot. Accordingly I sat down behind a small larch and waited. At the same moment the bear approached his dinner, walking slowly and with evident apprehension. He was clearly of much cunning, or had at some time or another been greatly scared. I felt certain of an easy shot, however, and had settled myself in a good shooting position, when he suddenly stopped at about 200 yards distant, whipped round, and made off again as hard as his legs would carry him. There was a moment of doubt, and I did the wrong thing, which was to fire as he galloped away. A single moment of reflection would have told me that his fright was only simulated, and that he was only going for another final gallop, but I stupidly thought he was off for good, and so pressed the trigger and missed. He dashed round a small clump of trees, and then I saw him going over the marsh at his best pace for half a mile until he entered the northern woods and disappeared. It is easy to be wise after the event, but I shall know better next time. September 22. — All day down through the worst kind of rocks. Till now the men have been pulling, hauling, and buffeting with the stoniest stream for a fortnight, with only one day's rest, and I had heard no complaints, but now, just before we reached Migwell's Brook, I found Bob, who had been long delayed, standing over his charge, sunk to I 130 NEWFOUNDLAND the bottom of a small hole in the river, and smiling sadly as he waved the frying-pan in his hand. " Guess this yer old thing (indicating his extempore baler) ain't much more use! 'less I bale out de whole stream, and that ain't surprisin' difficult now," he added, contemplating the shoal of rocks. " Well," I suggested, " let us pack the stuff down to Migwell's Brook, and we will try and do a mend with the stag's skin and a biscuit tin." It was dusk as we reached our destination. Moving the water-logged goods and heads was no light task, but it was finished just as the sun set. On our way up stream we had left the dried fat of two stags hanging on a tree at the Migwell's Brook camp. I had also placed out of reach a wooden box containing lOO Eley's brass shot cartridges. Knowing that bears were common round here, we thought that these things would be safe from their attentions, but such was not the case. The first thing that met our gaze was the broken cartridge box lying on the ground, and its contents scattered all over the camp. About twenty of the cartridges had actually been chewed and half-eaten by the bears, doubtless for the ex- traction of the grease-laden wads covering the powder, and the marks of their teeth were plainly indented on the outer coverings (see photograph). It was a curious diet in truth, for brass cartridges are not mentioned amongst the food of these omnivorous beasts. The results might have been even more interesting had our visitors bitten into the " cap " ends of the cartridges. During the evening Saunders and I " tailed " a gun and a Mannlicher for the bears, but without result. Next morning we spent in mending up the broken canoes. A Huntley and Palmer biscuit tin was Battened out and nailed HUNTING ON THE UPPER GANDER 131 over the break, into which, after removing the flooring, we poured about a pound of melted deer's fat. Saunders said that we could not utilise the skin until we had another, as the two must be laced together, and one was of no use. Accord- ingly I set out about midday, and made about four miles, when I reached the spot where I had missed the stag coming up the river. The view on either side was wide, and two well- used crossing places led across the stream within easy running distance. The afternoon passed away, and nothing appeared, not even the canoes, for on this day the rocks broke the strongest of the two boats and caused endless delays ; so I took a book out of my pocket and was soon lost with Rider Haggard in the heart of Africa. In a country so peaceful, so still as the land of the northern forests, one is quick to recognise the slightest noise. That remarkable woman "She" was about to drink again the fires of eternal life, and her speech at this exciting moment simply grips the reader, for it is the best thing in a remarkable work. Yet it was in no spirit of disappointment that I dropped the book softly on the stones at my side — for had I not heard some pebbles roll down the bank on the far side of the river ? I looked up, and there was a large brown doe coming down to drink. For a female she carried remarkable horns, about as large as the specimen I had killed in the previous year, and with thirteen good points. She entered the stream exactly oppo- site to the rock beside which I was seated, and, after drinking, marched slowly across the river towards me. It was a good opportunity for the camera. The sun was upon her, and I knew she would cross close to me, but the camera was far away at Glenwood. I lay under the shadow of the rock, and she came right on to within six yards, looking inquisi- tively at me as I crouched there with my arm in front of my 132 NEWFOUNDLAND face. Then she took a pace or two up stream, shook her head, ran a couple of yards, pretending to be frightened, and then seeing the fearsome object did not move, came back and smelt her way forwards. She was within three yards now, but working two yards to the right down stream, at once got the wind, and went off, sending the water flying in all directions. In two minutes she was out of sight, and I could hear her breaking through the forest up to the hills. In another minute I resumed my book, and had hardly done so, when the sound of dropping water caused me to turn my head sharply and look up stream. There stood a very large stag, in the act of drinking, about lOO yards away. The sudden movement of turning to grasp my rifle did not escape his eye, and at once he was in a position of tense alertness. Slowly I put the bead on his heart and pressed the trigger. He scarcely winced, but, jumping out on to the stones, dashed away at full gallop. I was about to fire again, when it occurred to me that my shot was a fatal one, because he was going just a bit too fast for an unwounded beast. This conjecture was strengthened when I saw him shaking his head, a sure sign of a fatal blow. The next instant he wheeled round suddenly towards the river, and running along a ledge of rocks, bounded into the air, and fell dead in the stream. So rapid was his descent into the river and blind the final plunge, that he broke his shovel, knocking off five points, as well as smashing his skull and lower jaw. A noble fellow with a massive head, but without many points. When the men came, we took his entire skin and head, and as much meat as we could carry, and made camp. This ended our hunting for the year, and perhaps the most successful shooting trip I have engaged in. It took RETURN TO GLENWOOD 133 four days more before we reached the mouth of the Gander ; but after passing the waterfalls the difficulties with the canoes ceased, for we reached water sufficiently deep to run the boats and their loads with care and safety. On the evening of the 27th a happy circumstance seemed to have brought the steamer to the mouth of the river, for she had not been there since she had brought us, so we got aboard, and next morning reached Glen wood and the railway line. Here I recovered my camera, and took a few photos of the heads, paid off Bob and Sandy, who had well earned their wages and a bit more. Better men to go anywhere, and turn their hands to anything, I have not found. Both had worked with untiring patience in cold water for twenty days, and would have been quite keen to " pack " on for another twenty had I wished them to do so. The food provided by the Glenwood HoteP was so bad that, after spending an unhappy hour there wrestling with some flaccid liquor named by courtesy tea, and a piece of chewed string, which at some remote period might have been a rabbit, I returned to my camp and had a simple yet clean dinner. Travellers at some of these remote hostelries have only one idea in the world, and that is to get away from them as quickly as possible. An untruthful but humorous story tells of an unfortunate "drummer" — and "drummers" can stand most things — who, after partaking of two meals, decided to end his life. He lay down on the metals a minute or two before the express was due. After waiting for two days and catching a severe cold, he was reluctantly compelled to give up the idea of suicide, and is now instituting a claim for compensation against the railway company for the unpunctuality of their trains. ' 1 am speaking of the Glenwood Hotel of 1903. It has, I believe, twice changed hands since then. 134 NEWFOUNDLAND Once upon a time there was a monarch whose kingdom was torn by dissensions, and, wishing for popularity, he offered as a reward to the guesser of a certain riddle half of his kingdom, and the hand of his lovely daughter. Of course there was no answer to the riddle, although the cunning monarch kept his people in a state of pleasurable excitement and peace from internal strife for the space of a few years, and so tided over a difficulty. In similar fashion the good folk of Newfoundland are apt to ask each other another conundrum which is also unanswerable, namely, "Why is the ' accommodation train ' so-called, and whom does it accom- modate?" At present the genius who can give a satis- factory answer has not been discovered. The people of the island regard the "accommodation train" with dread; strangers suffering a single journey resolve never to repeat the experiment. But the "accommodation train " must accom- modate somebody — perhaps it is the Old Gentleman himself! Every second day that passes, Satan must bless the island's government for running such a show entirely for his benefit. Could the walls of those "First Class" carriages speak, what a tale of wicked thoughts and wickeder language they could tell, and how oft had the nature of the most gende of men been turned to acid and gall through the bitter experience of a night's travel ! One evening, in 1902, little Mike, Saunders, Wells, a couple of station men, and myself were seated round a blazing fire near the line at Terra-Nova. We were waiting for the "accommodation train," which was only six hours late. The conversation turned on wild beasts, as it always does where two or three are gathered together in the backwoods. " I seen a bear once here, close to the station," began little Mike. We listened with hushed expectancy to the STAia.NGS UN IHK CLUI- A Typical \'iLLAt;E ok the Outsorts RETURN TO GLENWOOD 135 eleven-year-old stationmaster's coming story, for he had an interesting way of putting things. " He warn't walking away either, but come straight towards me." "Weren't you frightened, Mike?" suggested some one. "Sure," replied the little man; "but I stopped right still, and as I hadn't no gun I jes' said somethin' that I knew 'ud scare him proper." " What did ye say, Mike ? " " Well, I ses quite quiet like, ' Go way, you black devil, or I'll send you to St. John's by the accommodation train,' and you should ha' seen him scoot." And Mike looked sadly upon me as a prospective sufferer. We were due to leave Glen wood at 7 p.m., and punctually at five minutes past i a.m. the train, with its long string of baggage cars, steamed slowly into the station. Far away, and out in the darkness, overhanging a pool of water, was the passenger coach, on which was painted the curious legend "First Class." The train was designated as "mixed," not out of compliment to the passengers, but to individualise its component parts. It is really a baggage train, with a coach sandwiched between the trucks, so that the passengers may experience the full joys of shunting, which takes place at every heap of lumber piled beside the track between Bay of Islands and St. John's, a distance of five hundred miles. This journey is variously performed in two days, or, with the help of a snowstorm or a spring wash-out, in a week. I opened the door of the " First Class " carriage, and was at once greeted with a terrible atmosphere. There were eight hard benches, capable of holding two passengers on each, and occupied by twelve men, four women, and three children. Of course there was no seat to be had, so I sat 136 NEWFOUNDLAND on a biscuit box and allowed the door to stand open a minute although it was freezing slightly. Soon a man from outside came and shut it. Then I opened it again, and then a passenger shivered, shook himself, got up and shut it. This went on for some time until there really was a little fresh air in the car, and I tried to get to sleep sitting on my biscuit tin. We remained four hours at Glenwood killing time and doing nothing in particular, then we were all thrown endways by the engine coupling on. All the men in the carriage woke up and swore. Then another fearful jolt, which put out the light and sent me into the arms of a perfectly innocent old lady, and off we went. These fearful shocks are caused by the engine's playful way of coupling on ; this is effected apparently by adhesion, and it has to make a run at the train to make sure of sticking. This happened whenever the engine was required to detach for wood, coal, or water, or the driver went to gossip with the section man or the stationmaster. After swinging, creaking, and swaying round the marvellous curves of the line I became sleepy, and so spread two weekly editions of the Times on the floor of the carriage, placed my ulster above these, and, lying flat out, had a very nice nap for several hours. When I woke up it was broad daylight, and somehow I imagined we had got on splendidly and were nearly at Port Blandford. I said as much to a pleasant- looking man sitting close to me, and the humour of the remark, quite unintentional, was received with roars of laughter by all the other men in the carriage. "Why, we're nowhere near Gambo yet," replied my neighbour. (Gambo is about thirty-six miles from Glenwood.) Quite as tiresome a feature as the train itself was the fact that it is well nigh impossible to get any provisions en RETURN TO GLENWOOD 137 route. Except at Whitburn (eight or nine hours out of St. John's), where it is possible to obtain a sHce of corned beef and a cup of tea — that is, if the train will wait for you — there is no other halting-place where food can be obtained. My friends in the train had telegraphed on to Gambo to have breakfast ready at the hotel {sic). When we got there the "lady" in charge said she did not make breakfasts for travellers, but that they could have " a glass of whisky " apiece at an exorbitant price. At Gambo I managed to steal two pints of hot water out of a section man's house which I invaded, and so got enough to give the tired-looking women and children some tea. I also had a small supply of biscuits and cooked carabou meat, and this was all most of these unfortunate passengers had in thirty-six hours' travel. Near Terra-Nova we stopped an hour or two, and Dr. M'Pherson, myself, and the two St. John's boys turned out and helped to load lumber from the side of the track ; we thought it would save time and assist us towards a decent breakfast at Port Blandford. When we reached that small village the passengers made a rush for the "hotel." "Breakfast," said the proprietor ; " oh no, we received no telegram from Gambo, and we can do nothing for you in such a short time." The crowd then swooped down on a place that called itself a shop, and here met with better luck. If the "accommodation train" and its attendant dis- comforts are a disagreeable experience, I must confess, in justice to the line, that the passenger need not take it unless he is obliged to do so. The regular passenger train, which runs every second day, is just as comfortable as any train in the Colonies. There are good sleeping -berths, and excellent meals are served on board. CHAPTER VII A VISIT TO THE OUTPORTS OF THE SOUTH COAST When I first visited Newfoundland, it was with the light heart of one who goes out to spend a short holiday in a new land, and to gain a few hunting trophies for his collection. Newfoundland, I thought, might prove worth a visit, and, like many another country, that one visit would be sufficient. But this was not the case. However, instead of a well-known and easily reached hunting-ground of only passing interest, I had found after my second trip a half-explored and altogether delightful country teeming with game ; such a land, in fact, as men who love the woods speak of with respect, and which is, alas, generally mentioned with regret as belonging to the days that have gone by. I had found a way into the interior where other men had not attempted to go ; and to me Central Newfoundland represented one great deer forest, over the greater part of which I could wander at will without the chance of seeing a human soul. To the general reader this may seem a selfish pleasure. To a certain extent I must admit it is, but on the other hand every big-game hunter of to-day is searching for such a land of promise, and can scarcely find it without travelling far. It is one of the greatest truisms that when a fisherman has caught a twenty-pound salmon he can never rest until he has achieved the distinction of landing one of forty pounds ; and when this notable achievement is reached, visions of fifty- pounders will ever afterwards Boat before his eyes. So, too, the caribou hunter cannot tamely sit down and gaze with 138 t RKSH Cc.)I) Drying Fish VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 139 satisfaction on the noble forty-pointer that adorns his walls when he knows that somewhere up in the sheltered "leads" of the Gander there are one or two fifty-pointers cleaning their horns. It is just the weird imaginings which poor human nature invents and sets us up some fetish that causes us to strive after the seemingly unattainable. Still it prompts us to pack up and go, and we obey. On the other hand, my desire to revisit Newfoundland was not altogether connected with the acquisition of the fifty- pointer. A great part of the interior was, and is still, un- mapped and unexplored, and I thought that I might add a little to our knowledge of this, the oldest of our Colonies, by surveying some new ground, as well as adding to that which had been so well mapped by Mr. Howley and Alexander Murray. There was work to be done, and this lent an additional charm to the pleasures of Nature and Sport. There was too, in the back of my mind, a feeling that on the last visit I had not accomplished all I had set out to do. I had intended to cross Newfoundland if possible, and had stuck in the middle, partly on account of the drought, and partly on account of the number of heads which had fallen to my rifle. The latter would have been impossible to transport to the Bale d'Est River, so I had given up the attempt for the year. Before starting a fresh expedition into the interior, how- ever, there was other work to do. For five years I had been grinding away at a large work on " The Mammals of Great Britain and Ireland." It was a book which seemed at the time almost beyond my strength, owing to the quantity of material in the way of first-hand knowledge and illustra- tion which I had to supply, to say nothing of the outdoor work and the books I had to consult. It was necessary to see, study, hunt, and draw all the British species, including 140 NEWFOUNDLAND the whales, and this involved such constant work and travel that I feared a break-down under the strain. One mammal, the blue whale, it was absolutely necessary to examine in the flesh, and this, owing to its comparative scarcity in British waters, I hoped to find on the Newfoundland coasts. Accord- ingly I set out, at the end of July 1905, with the intention of spending a month in quest of this, the greatest of all living creatures. On arrival at St. John's I learned that all whales were very scarce, and that only one blue whale had been killed in Newfoundland waters during the past month. This did not look well for success, as the blue whales, after leaving the south coast in June, generally work out to the Grand Banks in their pursuit of the red shrimps, and do not return until the late autumn. The difficulty in selecting a station, therefore, was considerable, whilst all the owners of the various factories admitted the impossibility of selecting a base where success was certain. Eventually I chose the St. Lawrence Factory, near the point of Placentia and Fortune Bay, as this seemed to be well placed for distant sea trips. Moreover, I should have at this point the society and advice of Dr. Rismuller, the American-German savant, who has done more than any living man for the whaling industry. On applying to Mr. John Harvey for permission to stay at St. Lawrence, I was received with great kindness, and given every facility to study my subject. The owners of other factories, such as Mr. Edgar Bowring, Mr. Macdougall, and the Job brothers all extended such cordial invitations that I was sorry there was not sufficient time to visit their stations. St. John's people are nothing if not hospitable, and on this, as on other occasions, I was given every information by the Ministry VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 141 of Fisheries and Marine, and personal friends such as Mr. E. C. Watson' and Judge Prowse. Five hours' journey on the southern branch of the New- foundland Railway takes the traveller to the summit of the southern chain of mountains, and then you drop down to a great sea lagoon surrounded by broken hills which end in a sea beach, and the quaint old-world village of Placentia. The journey is comparatively safe, and if you know nothing about the railway or the state of the track, you can enjoy the beautiful scenery as you pass along the wooded cliffs — " Where the sea through all the mountains stretches up long arms between. Flashing, sweeping, with swift current, like a river rushing on, Till the tide turns, and the current, turning too, is seaward drawn, Skirting mountain brow and valley, changing still, yet still the same, Opening up unnumbered vistas, fairer far than lands of fame. Scenes to make an artist famous, to the world as yet unknown, Lovelier than that Lakeland region sung by poets of its own, Nestling in its sea-girt valley, 'midst its mountains forest clad. Lies Placentia rich in story, that might make an author glad." Placentia is one of the most charming spots in New- foundland. The town itself is not attractive, as it lies scattered on a stony beach thrown up by the sea, and kept in place on one side by the Atlantic, and on the other by the swift currents of the north-east and south-east arms. The situation of the place and its surroundings are, however, delightful. To the north it is flanked by the summits of Castle Hill, where the cannon used to stand, and to the south there rise the wooded hills of the Strouter and Mount Pleasant. I have spent hours sitting on the beach watching the ospreys hawking and dashing down on the sea trout as they come in on the rising tide, and enjoying the play of light on hill and sea. At one * Since these lines were written St. John's has to lament the death of Mr. Watson. A more charming gentleman or one more interested in his work as Secretary of the Fishery Board it will be impossible to find. 142 NEWFOUNDLAND time Placentia was an opulent centre of the Grand Bank fishery, but it is now more or less neglected. Why, it is difficult to understand, because its great beach is more suit- able for the drying of cod than any place in the island. The sea-trout fishing in the neighbourhood is excellent, and if protected it would be of great value to the residents. At Placentia live Mr. Albert and John Bradshaw. The former will show you the service of plate presented by King William IV., who visited this place during his travels, and a delightful collection of Indian and Esquimaux relics which he has gathered from the Labrador and Northern New- foundland. He kindly presented me with a caribou charm of the Beothick Indians, which was supposed to carry good luck in hunting. At Placentia I found the Glencoe, which performs weekly journeys along the south coast, and here too, lying like a veil, was the Newfoundland fog in all its density. In the evening we started westwards, and, leaving the land of sunshine, were at once lost in the gloom. To find the various ports we had to enter was no easy task, but Captain Drake seemed to know his way blindfold. The steamer went full speed right ahead into Burin, and the captain took the most surprising liberties with his boat. Navigation was principally accomplished by the use of the steam-whistle, which kept blowing all the time, and by its use the old mariner could tell where he was by the echo on the surrounding hills. He bears the reputation of being the most accomplished fog captain in existence, and the skill with which he steered past anchored " bankers " and hidden rocks was amazing, even if appearing somewhat risky. The pace, about twelve knots, never slackened, and at 6 a.m. we entered the harbour of St. Lawrence, when the land greeted VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 143 us once again. Here the fog was exceptionally dense. If there is no wind, or the wind is from the south, the coast is under its pall for months together in the summer, so the traveller must have a large stock of patience and a volatile temperament to withstand the constant rain and mist which obscure all things. The entrance to St. Lawrence is dominated by a noble headland known locally as "Shaperu," one of those queer names which the traveller in Newfoundland constantly encounters, and for which he finds it difficult to obtain a derivation. The origin of nearly all these queer appellations are Norman-French, which has been vulgarised and perverted to suit local taste. To give a few instances. There is a beautiful little port in Placentia Bay which was called by the old Norman sailors Tasse d' Argent (The Silver Cup). This the natives transmogrified into Tortello John, and it is now called Tortello. Cinq Isles is made into Saint Kells ; Bale de [Argent into Bay de John ; Chapeau Rouge into Shaperu ; Baie Facheux into Foushy ; Baie d'Espoir into Bay Despair ; whilst many other instances could be given. This habit of doggerelising names has become a passion with the New- foundlanders, and if a name is difficult, they make a short cut and apply the title of anything that sounds nearest to it. A poor woman brought her child to be christened by the Rev. Christopher Meek. On asking the name of the child, the mother replied that it was to be " Hyena." " Why, my good woman," said the parson, " I could not give the name of a wild animal to this lovely child. There must be some mistake." "Well," answered the mother, "my good man before he went up the Bay cuttin' wood, telled me it were to be ' Hyena ' and nothing else." Soon afterwards the clergyman met the father, who said, "Well, parson, that were a curious 144 NEWFOUNDLAND mistake between you and my missis about the baby. It were Joseph Hyena (Josephina) I told her to name the child." Great St. Lawrence is a typical village of the outports. Imagine a little fiord surrounded by green hills covered with grass, tea-bush, pink calmia {Ka//nia Glauca), blueberry, and stunted spruce and pine, amongst which the stone and granite outcrops. There are no trees of any size, because these have long since been cut for fuel, or blown down by the winter storms. Above high-water mark stands the village of wooden houses, many of them built on trestles after the Norwegian fashion. Some of these small crofts have a little hayfield surrounded by wooden palings, in a corner of which stands the cow-byre, whilst all possess on the sea front large staging and store-houses for the drying and curing of cod. The houses are roofed with wooden slates ; they are of two stories and possess a loft. The best ones have little gardens, in which grow potatoes and cabbages, or, if the owner is suffi- ciently well to do, flowers. In August these gardens are quite gay, and I noticed quantities of meadow-sweet, fox- gloves, sweet-williams, paeonies, pinks, violas, Aaron's rod and golden rod, monthly roses, and the common wild rose of the country. Neglected as a weed, and most beautiful of all, were great clumps of the blue monkshood, locally known as " Queen's fettle." In the wild marshes there was a great variety of berries and alpine plants, the most notice- able at this season being the pitcher plant, and a small and lovely snow-white orchis. Michaelmas daisies and golden rod give masses of yellow in the inland woods, whilst on all the roadsides grow pink and white spiraeas. On dull and foggy days no one in St. Lawrence seemed to have any work to do. Men could not go to sea, and women could not dry fish. All is silent and depressed, VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 145 but when the sun comes out everything changes to life and movement. Dogs bark, children call at their play, and those at work on the "flakes" chat cheerfully together. In the still waters of the harbour the common terns [Sterna hirufido), like little sea-fairies, hover and descend upon their prey the sand-eels ; American herring gulls {Larus argentattcs Smith- sonianus) sail aloft, whilst the common sandpipers and two species of tringa flit and call upon the beaches. The dogs, which seem to be well nigh amphibious, rush barking through the pools, and at low water search the shores for discarded cod-heads. The best dogs are of the "Labrador" type. In winter they are used for hauling logs — one dog will haul 2 or 3 cwt. Seldom more than two are used together. The pure Newfoundland dogs are curly, and are a little higher on the leg than are the Labradors. Everything eats cod in Newfoundland, even the cows. These cattle have the appearance of coming badly through the winter, and making up for it in summer with indiff"erent success. Their existence is one long struggle with the forces of nature, and in the battle of life they get the worst of it. Their lives are one long disappointment in the commissariat line. Just as the grass is getting sweet, it is denied them by means of wooden fences, so they do the best they can by nibbling various shrubs and by repairing to the beach at low water, where they eat seaweed, dulse, and the remains of cod. They are also very partial to whale flesh. The sheep are poor and thin, though why this should be so is difficult to understand, as there is abundant food for them in summer. I bought a good-sized lamb one day, and thought I had got a bargain at a dollar (4s. 6d.), but when two members of the whaling crew and I had finished the entire 146 NEWFOUNDLAND animal for breakfast one morning, its value seemed to be about three shillings, and dear at that. Nothing has struck me so forcibly in Newfoundland as the miserable quality of their sheep, and the fact that a considerable part of the fertile coast-line would be made an excellent land for sheep-raising if the right kinds were intro- duced. It has been my lot to wander much in the barren northern lands of Iceland, Norway, the Hebrides, Shetland and Orkney, and in these wind-swept places I have seen flocks of different varieties of sheep in a flourishing condition — in spots, too, far more unsuitable in every way than the south and west coasts of Newfoundland. In most cases the farmers of these inhospitable wilds depend almost entirely on their sheep, and could not live without them. What is to be seen in Newfoundland ? Only here and there, in widely separated places, one finds a few miserable sheep of some German extraction, carrying such a poor quality of wool and flesh as hardly to be worth the raising. Now, what is wanted is that the Government should take the matter in hand— for the Newfoundlanders themselves are much too apathetic and ignorant about such matters — and import a few flocks of the following sheep : — The Highland ram of Scotland, which carries a mag- nificent coat of wool capable of withstanding the severest winter provided the snow is not too deep ; Welsh sheep, Hebridean sheep, Shetland sheep, Icelandic sheep. All these varieties are extremely hardy, and would, I am sure, do well in the comparatively sheltered bays of the south and west coast. One of the first things that would have to be done would be the shooting of ownerless dogs, and stringent laws would have to be enacted that the owners of dogs must keep their dogs in check and under proper supervision. A man who Newfoundland Dogs of the Present Day -^.. 1 903-1 904 1,300,622 i.233.>°7 1,288,955 1,429,274 1,360,373 The Grand Banks extend from Labrador southwards past Newfoundland to the Massachusetts coast, a distance of over 1000 miles, and every year some 1200 vessels, carrying crews of 20,000 fishermen, go out to battle with the surges as they have done for the past four hundred years. The fisher- men of all lands have to encounter the perils of the deep, but none have to face the risks that the "bankers" do. Their special dangers are swift liners, that steam full speed through the fog, ice-bergs, ice-floes, chilling frosts, and furious storms. The fishing zone lies right in the track of great liners plying between Europe and America, and many a poor fisherman has lived to curse " Some damned liner's lights go by Like a great hotel " ; whilst nearly all have some heartrending tale to tell of the destruction of fishing craft of which he has been an eye- witness. There is an ever-increasing record of sunken ships, of frosts which overpower, and of dory crews driven from their schooners by sudden tempests, and, during the fishing season, hardly a week goes by without some tale of misfortune. Of the method of fishing and the disasters which overtake the ship I must quote a passage from one of Mr. P. T. M'Grath's articles,^ which are full of interest and accurate information. ' St.JoMs Herald, 28th August 1906. VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 155 " When fishing is actually in progress, the smacks always anchor, for the shoals carry only thirty to sixty fathoms of water, and hempen cables are used instead of iron chains to moor them, as the latter would saw their bows out from the lively pitching they do in these choppy seas. The fishing itself is done from dories, light but strong flat-bottomed boats, each carrying two men, who set their lines or trawls overnight, and examine them next day, removing the fish impaled on the hooks with which the trawl is furnished, and then rebaiting them for another night's service. The ship is therefore like a hen with a flock of chickens, the dories standing in this relation to her, while the trawls radiate from her as spokes from a wheel-hub, being laid outward from her at a distance of one or two miles, the ship serving as a depot for feeding and housing the men and for cleaning and storing their catch. In setting and cleaning his trawls and cleaning his catch the doryman finds abundant occupation, and rarely gets more than a few hours' sleep in a night, some- times none at all. "Thus it is that when fogs obscure the water, vigilance is relaxed by the toil-worn look-out, to whom is entrusted the lives of a score of comrades, tiredly sleeping below. Though the fog-horn each vessel carries is sounded regularly, still many a horror is enacted amid this curtain of gloom, when a mighty steamship splits a hapless fisher-boat and, like a marine juggernaut, rushes on over the wreckage and bodies she sends to the bottom by the stroke of her steel- clad prow. Often at night a sudden crash rends the stillness, and a shriek of despair rises from the stricken schooner's crew, a swirl of splintered wood in her wake to mark the eddies for a while, and then vanish, a tomb for fifteen or twenty men. 156 NEWFOUNDLAND " Last summer one of the German liners cut down a trawler on the banks, but it was in the daytime, and the crew fortunately escaped. The previous year two similar occurrences took place with equally harmless results. The freighter Endymion, however, bound to Montreal, crashed into the smack Albatross off Cape Race last July, and of the nineteen on the latter only one was saved. In September 1902 the collier Warspite sank the smack Bonavista on one of the banks, three only surviving out of twenty-two on board. In 1898 the City of Rome ripped the stem off the smack Victor of St. Pierre Miquelon, but she kept afloat, and a relief party from the liner got her safely to land after three days of trying endeavour, as she was leaking badly from the shock. This humane action on the liner's part is agreeably remembered yet among the fishing fleets, for, if the bankmen are to be believed, steamers usually keep on as if nothing had happened, and tell the passengers who may have felt the shock that it was caused by striking loose ice or suddenly changing the course. It is, indeed, alleged among the bankmen, that crews of foreign steamers will beat off with belaying pins the wretches from the foundering vessels who try to swarm on board, that the name of the destroyer may not be known, and local com- plications be thus avoided. " How many of the missing bankmen meet their end in this way can only be conjectured, but certain it is that far more are sunk than are reported to the world. Frequently the steamer's people scarcely know what has happened when such a catastrophe occurs to the accompaniment of a midnight storm, so slight is the shock of impact on her huge hull, and with spectators few at these times, and look-outs and watch- officers having every reason to escape inquiry and possible VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 157 punishment, the temptation to hurry on and make no alarm is usually yielded to. Many lives are certainly sacrificed every year because of this which could otherwise be saved, for the fishing schooners are all wooden-built and, unless mortally smitten, will float for some time. Even at the worst the men can cling to planks or spars long enough to be rescued if the steamer would stop to launch a boat, which, of course, is always done when the collision occurs while passengers are on deck or in daylight. "The fishermen take every ship that strikes them to be a liner, but, during the last few years, the greyhound track has been moved south of the Grand Bank to avoid them, so fearful from these mishaps previously, and now most of the tragedies are due to freighters, which swarm across this area during the summer. Not a few of the unrecorded disappearances there of splendid trawlers must be assigned to these racing steamboats, such as the loss of the Cora M'Kay, in October 1902, one of the finest vessels that ever sailed out of Gloucester, which disappeared with her twenty-two men under conditions which would warrant the belief that she was run over and sent to the bottom. Eight French smacks from St. Pierre were damaged by steam- ships in 1900, and there is every reason to think that three others were sunk with all hands by them the same year. " So frequent are these collisions, that the recent comic papers had a rather ghastly joke about a tourist returning to America and bemoaning the uneventful passage, as the ship ' ran down only one fishing smack, don't you know.' All steamers are supposed to slow down to half-speed during a fog, but this rule is rarely observed, and it is to its ignoring that most of the fatalities are due. 158 NEWFOUNDLAND " Equally terrible destruction is often wrout^ht by the gales which sweep the banks in the fishing time. Chief among these, in its appalling fatality list, was the 'Seventh of June Breeze' of 1896. The day was fine and fair for fishing, when the tempest broke and caught hundreds of dories far from their ships, imperilling not alone the skiffs and occupants, but also the vessels themselves, because only the captain and cook remain aboard while trawling is on. Scores of boats and several vessels sank, and over 300 lives were lost. Three Newfoundland, two Canadian, and three Americans were sunk at their moorings, and all hands were lost." It is sad to see a grand old man like Lord Roberts trying to arouse the nation to a sense of its military weakness, but, thank heaven, those in power in the Navy are not so blind or foolish as to overlook the splendid reserve of naval seamen that can be made from the Terra-Novan fishermen. We have great and powerful colonies full of virile men capable of making excellent soldiers, but where can we find sailors that are experienced and used to the sea beyond our own coasts, except in Newfoundland .•* Here we have a people, bound to us not only by the ties of kinship, but of love. It is a land where the portraits of our beloved King and Queen hang in every humble cottage, not as nominal rulers of some visionary power, but as the heads of the great motherland for which the islanders have both pride and respect. Newfoundland will gladly give of her best when the great day of war comes, as come it surely will, and her bluejackets, I feel sure, will acquit themselves with honour. I cannot do better than conclude this chapter with some stirring lines by James B. Connolly : — ^^ /y ^ ^y/'y^/'i^/A^^ ' ^ ^llt s A T Oi.ij Sweethearts The Captain about to Fire at a Finback: VISIT TO THE SOUTH COAST OUTPORTS 159 " Oh, Newfundland and Cape Shore men, and men of Gloucester town. With ye I've trawled o'er many banks, and sailed the compass round ; I've ate wi' ye, and watched wi' ye, and bunked wi' ye, all three, And better shipmates than ye were I never hope to see. I've seen ye in a wild typhoon beneath a Southern sky, I've seen ye when the Northern gales drove seas to masthead high ; But summer breeze or winter blow, from Hatt'ras to Cape Race, I've yet to see ye with the sign of fear upon your face." The total strength of the Newfoundland naval reserve is at present 573, and it ought to be treble this number. The men enrol for a period of five years, at the expiration of which they can enrol for a further period or obtain their discharge. The reservists between the age of eighteen and thirty are of two classes, "Seamen" and "Qualified Seamen " ; on entry he belongs to the former class. CHAPTER VIII MODERN FIN-WHALING AND THE GREAT WHALES Before introducing my readers to the business and excitement of modern whale-hunting, it is necessary to give a slight review or history of Newfoundland's advance in this respect, and to see how the industry gradually developed since the first discovery of the island by Cabot in 1497.* Soon after this important discovery great tales of the Newfoundland seas and their riches excited the Devon and Somerset men to cross the Atlantic in their crazy fishing boats to filch the treasures of the deep in the shape of walrus, seal, and cod from the waters of the west. Owing to the rapacity of those in power these early mariners kept their catch secret for a long time, carrying their salt cod to Spain and Portugal, just as they do to-day, and reaping a rich reward. Judge Prowse, than whom there is no better authority on the island's history, tells us that " the proofs that the trade was both extensive and lucrative are abundant. In 1527, the little Devonshire fishing ships were unable to carry home their large catch, so ' sack ships ' (large merchant vessels) were employed to carry the salt cod to Spain and Portugal. In 1 54 1 an Act of Henry VIII. classes the Newfoundland trade among such well-known enterprises as the Irish, Shetland, and Iceland fisheries. Soon after 1497, the great trade between Bristol and Iceland declined, and the price of fish fell. We have further transactions in ' barrelled fish ' from Newfoundland. ' Our information on this point is derived from Italian and Spanish letters written soon after his arrival in 1497. 160 1 HK Captain hk thk Whalkk DUSKV MAl,LAkl> UK I'lI.Alk IHCK MODERN FIN-WHALING 161 In 1583 Sir Humphrey Gilbert came to St. John's especially to obtain supplies for his impoverished fleet, and it is then mentioned as a 'place very populace and much frequented.' ' The English command all there.' " Sir Walter Raleigh declared that this trade was the main- stay and support of the western counties, and " that if any misfortune happened to the Newfoundland fleet, it would be the greatest calamity that could befall England." The value will be seen from the fact that the Newfoundland business employed over 10,000 men, who earned annually over ;^500,ooo — a very large sum in those days, and amounting to a half of the national assets. One is apt to forget that the great Chancellor Bacon was not only famous for his literary gifts. He was also, as Ben Jonson tells us, a great public speaker, and, far in advance of his age, believed in the value and success of our colonies. He was the chief organiser of "The London and Bristol Company for Colonising Newfoundland," and drew up both its prospectus and the rules of the new enterprise. In one passage he refers to "The Goldmine of the Newfoundland fishery, richer than all the treasures of Golconda and Peru," and thus predicted a success for the industry which has since come true. For as Prowse remarks : "This wonderful harvest of the sea has been producing millions upon millions every season for four hundred years, as productive to-day as when John Cabot and his West-country fishermen first sighted 'the New-founde-launde,' and told their countrymen marvellous stories about the fish that were dipped up in baskets, of the great deer, and of the strange birds and beasts in this wonder- ful new island of the West. These tales of wealth in fur, fin, and feather in our most ancient colony are as true to-day as in the Tudor age." 162 NEWFOUNDLAND These hardy old sea-rovers, together with a small per- centage of French and Portuguese, fished on the Grand Banks, or killed the seal and walrus in early spring to the north and west. It was not, however, until about 1550, that the Spanish Basques, who had long chased the Great Southern Right Whale {Balana australis) in the stormy waters of the Bay of Biscay, inaugurated the whaling industry in the Newfoundland seas. It is a common fallacy amongst the British, that we were the first nation to commence whaling. It was the Basques who first chased the seal and the walrus,^ and afterwards taught our people the dangerous business of whale-killing. The very word "harpoon" is derived from an old Basque word " harpon." Yet though the English ruled all then in Newfoundland, as they had maintained their supremacy hundreds of years before in the Iceland cod-fishery, whaling was a trade they had to learn and did learn. For courtesy the chief post, that of whale-killer, was held by a Basque " harponier," just as the Norwegians are the first of whale- men to-day. Up to 1800 the whales were pursued in open boats, and struck with the hand harpoon; about 1830 the small bomb came into use ; soon after which date whales were found too difficult and dangerous to hunt, the Right Whale (probably BalcBna australis, not Balcena vtysticetus) having almost com- pletely disappeared. The last Right Whale killed in New- foundland was taken near Gaultois, on the south coast, in 1850. In the year 1880, a Norwegian sailor named Svend Foyn, after several ineffectual attempts to kill the great Baleenoptera ■ This of course only refers to our colonial hunting. The Norwegians had for long exploited the waters of Spitzbergen for the chase of these animals. MODERN FIN-WHALING 163 with ordinary lines and bomb-guns, invented the cannon and harpoon with exploding head. This was at once found to be effective on the greatest of all whales, such as Sibbald's Rorqual, the Common Rorqual, and the Humpback. These enormous creatures had never previously suffered from the attacks of man to any serious extent, because the attempt to strike and hold them with the ordinary methods employed on the Greenland, the Southern Right, or the Sperm Whales, would have led to disaster. Svend Foyn commenced operations at once on the Finmark coast of Norway in 1880, and his immediate success was quickly followed by a crowd of small vessels which, killing sometimes as many as five or six Bal