With the Harmony to Labrador by Benjamin La Trobe

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WITH
THE HARMONY
TO LABRADOR

[Illustration: "THE HARMONY"]

A VISIT
TO THE
MORAVIAN MISSION STATIONS
ON THE
NORTH EAST COAST OF LABRADOR

London:
MORAVIAN CHURCH AND MISSION AGENCY.
32, FETTER LANE, E.C.

PRICE THREEPENCE.

* * * * *

_WITH_
THE HARMONY
TO
LABRADOR.

NOTES OF A VISIT
BY THE
REV. B. LA TROBE
TO THE
MORAVIAN MISSION STATIONS
ON THE
NORTH-EAST COAST OF LABRADOR.

LONDON:
MORAVIAN CHURCH AND MISSION AGENCY,
32, FETTER LANE, E.C.

LONDON:
G. NORMAN AND SON, PRINTERS, HART STREET,
COVENT GARDEN, W.C.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 1
ARRIVAL AT HOPEDALE, THE SOUTHERN STATION 2
THE 119TH VOYAGE OF THE SOCIETY'S VESSEL 3
HOPEDALE 5
A STROLL "TO THE HEATHEN" 5
JOYS AND SORROWS--A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL 7
THREE NATIVE HELPERS 9
A COMMUNION AND FESTIVAL SUNDAY AT HOPEDALE 11
A PLEASANT SAIL FROM HOPEDALE TO ZOAR 13
ZOAR 14
A CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE SHIP HILL AT ZOAR 15
FROM ZOAR TO NAIN BETWEEN ISLANDS 16
THE FIRST EVENING AT NAIN 17
INTERCHANGE OF VISITS WITH THE ESKIMOES 18
TWO ESKIMO GROUPS TAKEN AT NAIN 21
"GOD'S ACRE" 23
A BUSY WEEK AT NAIN 25
FROM NAIN TO OKAK 27
THE MOST PRIMITIVE STATION IN LABRADOR 30
WALKS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF OKAK 33
FROM OKAK TO RAMAH 34
"RAMARSUK" (NEAT LITTLE RAMAH) 35
AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 38
ON THE BEACH AT RAMAH 41
A FAITHFUL NATIVE HELPER 42
LEAVING RAMAH 43
SUNSET, MOONRISE AND AURORA BOREALIS 44
ARRIVAL AT HEBRON 45
THE VISITING MISSIONARIES' LEVEE 46
A SLEDGE DRIVE 47
MY LAST SUNDAY IN LABRADOR 51
MUSIC ON THE WATER 53
HOMEWARD BOUND 53

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

"THE HARMONY" 1
HOPEDALE 4
TITUS, NATIVE HELPER AT HOPEDALE 10
ESKIMO HOUSES 19
A GROUP OF WIDOWS AT NAIN 21
THE CHOIR AT NAIN 22
ICE AGROUND 29
RAMAH 36
TENTS AT RAMAH 37
AN ESKIMO IN HIS KAYAK 42
TRAVELLING IN LABRADOR 49

=LABRADOR=

Is an extensive triangular peninsula on the north-east coast of
British North America, Lat. 50 deg. to 62 deg. N., Lon. 56 deg. to 78 deg. W.; bounded
N. by Hudson's Straits, E. by the Atlantic, S.E. by the Strait of
Belle Isle, separating it from Newfoundland, S. by the Gulf and River
St. Lawrence and Canada, and W. by James' Bay and Hudson's Bay. Its
area is estimated at 420,000 sq. miles. The vast interior, inhabited
by a few wandering Nascopie Indians, is little known; the coast,
mainly but sparsely peopled by Eskimoes, is rugged, bleak and
desolate. Seals abound, and the sea is well stocked with cod and other
fish. The wild animals include deer (caribou), bears, wolves, foxes,
martens, and otters. The Eskimo dogs are trained to draw sledges, to
which they are attached in teams of from eight to fourteen.

The temperature in winter ranges lower than that of Greenland, the
thermometer often showing a minimum of 70 deg. below freezing-point of
Fahrenheit. The climate is too severe to ripen any cereals, and the
flora is very limited.

The Moravian Mission to the Eskimoes on the north-east coast of
Labrador was established in 1771 by a colony of brethren and sisters
from England and Germany, who on July 1st reached Unity's Harbour, and
at once began the erection of a station, calling it NAIN. An earlier
attempt in 1752 under the direction of John Christian Erhardt had
failed, the leader of the little band of missionaries and the captain
of the ship, together with several men of the crew, having been killed
by the natives. Five more stations were subsequently added--viz., ZOAR
and HOPEDALE to the south, and OKAK, HEBRON, and RAMAH to the north of
Nain. The distance from Ramah to Hopedale is about three hundred
miles.

Since the year 1770, when the "Jersey Packet" was sent out on an
exploratory trip, the Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel has
maintained regular communication with Labrador by despatching each
year a ship, specially devoted to this missionary object. Eleven
different ships have been employed in this service, ranging from a
little sloop of seventy tons to a barque of two hundred and forty
tons. Of these only four were specially constructed for Arctic
service, including the vessel now in use, which was built in the year
1861. She is the fourth of the Society's Labrador ships bearing the
well-known name "THE HARMONY."

[Illustration: "THE HARMONY."]

=WITH THE HARMONY TO LABRADOR=.

NOTES OF A VISIT BY THE REV. B. LA TROBE.

What can a summer visitor tell of Labrador, that great drear land
whose main feature is winter, the long severe winter which begins in
October and lasts until June? I have been sailing over summer seas,
where in winter no water is visible, but a wide waste of ice
stretching thirty, forty, fifty or more miles from the snowy shores.
In the same good ship "Harmony," I have been gliding between the
innumerable islands of the Labrador archipelago and up the fine fjords
stretching far inland among the mountains, but in winter those bays
and straits and winding passages are all white frozen plains, the
highways for the dog-sledge post from station to station. I have
visited each of our six mission-stations, dotted at intervals of from
forty to ninety miles along some 250 miles of the grand, rocky coast,
but I have seen them in their brightest and sunniest aspect, and can
only imagine how they look when stern winter has come to stay for
months, and the thermometer frequently descends to forty, fifty,
sixty, sometimes even seventy degrees below freezing point,
Fahrenheit. I have spent happy, busy days in those Christian villages,
nestling close by the shore under the shelter of one or another hill
that cuts off the icy northern blasts of winter. But I can fancy that
their ordinary aspect is very different to the bustle and interest of
the "shiptime." I have enjoyed the kindly hospitality of successive
mission-houses, one as neat and clean as the other. But I have seen
none of them half buried, as they often are, in snowdrifts of fifteen
or twenty feet deep. The summer sun sent down powerful rays into the
windows of the pleasant guest-chamber usually facing southward, but in
mid-winter the Okak mission-house lies in the shadow of a great hill
for weeks, and at other stations the sun describes a low curve over
the opposite mountains, and does little more than shed a feeble ray of
cheer upon the mid-day meal.

One unpleasant experience of the warmer season I have shared with our
missionaries, which they are spared in winter. That is the
inconvenience of the swarms of mosquitoes and sand flies, which make
them almost glad when the brief summer yields to a cooler autumn.

On the other hand many phases of Labrador life do not change with the
season of the year, least of all the spiritual verities which there,
as elsewhere, concern the welfare of the bodies and the souls of men,
and the eternal principles which should rule the life that now is, as
well as that which is to come. The Christian life of the dwellers in
those mission-houses, and, thank God, of the goodly congregations
gathered around them, has its source in a perennial fountain, flowing
summer and winter from the upper sanctuary. _This_ is the matter of
main interest to my readers, therefore I will transcribe, or rather
adapt, some diary pages, hoping they may convey correct impressions of
the daily surroundings and local conditions under which our dear,
self-denying missionaries are constantly toiling to win souls, and
build up truly Christian congregations.

ARRIVAL AT HOPEDALE, THE SOUTHERN STATION.

Hopedale, Zoar, Nain, Okak, Hebron, Raman; these are our Labrador
mission-stations in order from south to north, and as we visited them
in the "Harmony," with one exception. From Okak we went straight to
Ramah, and returned southward to Hebron, whence we sailed for Europe.
Each station consists of the mission premises and a group of Eskimo
dwellings, situated on the shore of a bay, affording safe and
convenient anchorage for the ship which brings supplies. From Hopedale
to Ramah is about 250 miles, "as the crow flies," but the ship
traverses a hundred miles more in its passages from place to place.
The distances between the stations are about as follows:--

Hopedale to Zoar 90 miles Okak to Hebron 70 miles.
Zoar to Nain 40 " Hebron to Ramah 60 "
Nain to Okak 80 "

The accompanying log of our voyage gives a _resume_ of its history. I
will take up my more detailed sketches on the day when we arrived at
Hopedale, the southern station.

THE 119th VOYAGE OF THE SOCIETY'S VESSEL.

(28th of present barque "Harmony.")

June 20. Wed.--_Farewell Service in London Docks._
" 23. Sat.--Left LONDON.
July 3. Tues.--Arr. at STROMNESS (Orkney Isles).
" 6. Fri.--Left STROMNESS.

(_London to Labrador, 41 days_.)

Aug. 3. Fri.--Arr. at HOPEDALE.
" 13. Mon.--Left "
" 14. Tues.--Arr. at ZOAR.
" 19. Sun.--Left "
" 19. Sun.--Arr. at NAIN.
" 27. Mon.--Left "
" 29. Wed.--Arr. at OKAK.
Sept. 5. Wed.--Left "
" 9. Sun.--Arr. at RAMAH.
" 14. Fri.--Left "
" 17. Mon.--Arr. at HEBRON.
" 25. Tues.--Left "

(_Stay in Labrador, 53 days_.)

Oct. 26. Fri.--Re-entered LONDON DOCKS.

(_Homeward Voyage, 31 days_.)

The whole voyage occupied 125 days, or close upon 18 weeks.

_August 3rd_, 1888. It is six weeks all but a day since we left
London. We might have reached Hopedale three days ago, for we were
within eighty miles. But a dense fog made it impossible to venture
among the islands, where drift ice might be added to the dangers of
rocks. So we have been driving to and fro for the last three days and
nights over a high sea, studded with icebergs hidden from us by a
thick white mist, which made everything wet and cold. It has been the
least pleasant and most anxious part of our voyage hitherto. This
morning the fog cleared away, and we could see how good the Lord had
been to us, for the icebergs were still surrounding us, but had never
been permitted to come nigh our vessel. (Not till later did we know
how well He had not only protected but piloted us. Drift ice beset the
whole coast, but during those three days it cleared away southward.
Nor could we have reached Hopedale by the usual southerly route, past
the Gull Island, even on August 3rd. The course by which we were
taken, _nolens volens_, was the only one open).

As morning wore on our swift progress brought us to the outer islands,
bare bleak rocks, at whose base the sea was breaking terrifically. The
first was Ukalek (the hare), about equal distance from Nain, Zoar, and
Hopedale. We turned southward, our good ship speeding along before a
favourable breeze and rolling heavily. Many icebergs of all shapes and
sizes were visible around our now widened horizon. Tremendous waves
were beating against their gleaming white sides, and sending the spray
high towards their towering pinnacles, in one case clean over a huge
berg perhaps 150 feet high.

Presently the Eskimoes at their northern fishing-places caught sight
of us. Yonder are two boats sailing from that barren island, and we
can now see three or four Eskimoes in each. As we overtake them they
fire their guns and shout. See, on that island to the right is a
regular little encampment, two or three tents, and men, women, and
children running about excitedly, waving their arms and hallooing.
Soon they launch their boats and row after us. The Ship Hill has been
visible for some time. Now we see the red roof of the mission-house,
and the little cupola of the church. Thank God! the flag is flying at
the mast-head, _i.e._, at the top of the station flagstaff; no death
has occurred in the mission circle. Yonder Eskimoes on the rocks,
congregated about their little cannon, fire their salutes and shout
their welcome. Now we are sailing into the harbour. With mingled
feelings I scan the mission-house. Yes, there are some of the
missionaries at the door. They run down to the pier, launch their boat
and are coming off to us, rowed by two men and two women. I recognize
old Boaz from his photograph; and that is Verona, good faithful soul.
But there are only Mrs. Dam, and the Brethren Kaestner, Asboe, and
Hansen. Where are the rest? Mr. Bourquin has not arrived from Nain; no
news from the North; Mr. Dam is ailing, and must return to Europe with
us. Mrs. Asboe and Mrs. Kaestner await us, so we are soon off in the
boat to get another warm welcome at the door of the mission-house,
about half-past five.

[Illustration: HOPEDALE. (_See next page._)]

I am conducted to the guest-chamber, and ere long we meet at the tea
table, around which the whole mission family is assembled with their
visitors. First our gratitude is expressed for the many mercies to
each and all, included in the safe arrival of the "Harmony," and then
ensues a lively interchange of news and mutual interests.

HOPEDALE.

I will content myself with a few explanations of the accompanying view
of the station from the bay. In winter the aspect of the whole
landscape would be very much whiter, and the foreground not water, but
ice. The bare, rocky ship hill which forms the background still had
considerable patches of snow when we arrived early in August, but it
melted from day to day during our stay, for the summer sun asserts its
power during its brief sway. The mission-house in the centre of the
picture is connected with the church by a covered passage, and the
building with the three gable-ends, on the other side of it, is the
store. The gardens, really wonderful in results when the climate is
considered, are situated at some distance to the rear of the mission
premises. The Eskimo village lies mostly to the right, where only one
or two log huts are visible in the picture. Some of the native houses
are behind the mission premises, including that of Jonas and his
capable wife Lydia, perhaps the neatest and best furnished home of an
Eskimo to be found in Labrador. The three windows to the right of the
front door of the mission-house belong to the rooms occupied by Mr.
and Mrs. Asboe. If there be as much snow this winter as last, they may
be in the dark, part of the time. The three centre windows of the
upper story show Mr. Hansen's rooms, and on each side of these are the
dwellings of Mr. and Mrs. Kaestner and Mr. and Mrs. Lundberg.

A STROLL "TO THE HEATHEN."

The only "road" in all Labrador is the broad path at Hebron traversed
by the only wheeled vehicle in the country, a queer little wagon drawn
by dogs, and used to fetch water for the house. But great service to
succeeding generations of missionaries has been rendered by those who
have employed some of their leisure in making pleasant paths leading
to points of view or places of interest. For such a remote settlement,
Hopedale is rich in well-made walks, though they are by no means so
extensive as the winding paths in the fir woods behind Nain, the
oldest station. And as I can bear witness, the present generation of
missionaries have at each station fairly done their duty in adding to
the roads along which their successors in the service shall take their
social strolls or their lonely prayerful walks in communion with the
best of friends.

What an illustration of the spiritual service in such a land! The
pioneer finds all in the roughest phase of nature. With infinite
trouble and pains he prepares the way of the Lord, making the rough
places plain; here he takes away the rocks and stones which bar the
way, there he builds up, so making His paths straight. And where the
good-work has been begun, other missionaries follow on the same lines;
and so by grace it shall go forward, until the glory of the Lord shall
be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

One of the Hopedale paths leads "to the heathen," and what more
interesting spot could we visit than those three mounds, which are all
that remain of the former winter dwellings of the original heathen
population. One by one, and sometimes several at once, when the Spirit
of the Lord was powerfully bringing home to their hearts the Gospel
preached by the early missionaries, the inmates of these abodes moved
from their pagan surroundings and began to make themselves Christian
homes around the mission-houses.

On our way to the long uninhabited ruins of this older group of
abodes, we will pass through the Christian village, which has thus
sprung up at Hopedale as at all the other stations. It consists of
irregular groups of little log houses, planted with little attempt at
symmetry. Their Eskimo owners have no idea of a street. Perhaps some
day the conception may occur to them as they read in their Bibles of
"the street which was called straight." Nor do they need any words in
their language for "rent," "rates," or, "taxes." Here in the south and
at the station most influenced by civilization, the majority of the
little houses are built of logs and even roofed with wood. Some are
covered with turf. The dwellings of our people in the north are much
more primitive. Each house has its low porch, a very necessary
addition in this land of "winter's frost and snowing."

Between the houses and in their porches lie many dogs. One of these
wolf-like creatures follows us over the rocks to the burial-ground,
and then runs off to fish on his own account. The dogs scour the shore
for miles in search of food, for, with the exception of those
belonging to our stores, they mostly have to forage for themselves.
They like seal and reindeer meat, but there are times when they can
get neither flesh nor fish. Then they turn vegetarians, spring over
the fences of the mission gardens and help themselves.

We enter the irregular enclosure, where lie the bodies of many, who
have fallen asleep during the hundred years that Hopedale has stood.
Here are some Eskimo graves with little headstones, bearing brief
inscriptions, but more mounds without identification. In one corner
lies a group of graves of touching interest--the missionaries and
their children--who have taken sepulchre possession here.

Thence our way lies along the shore. What is that noise? It is a whale
blowing in the smooth water. Look, yonder rises the column of spray,
and now a great fin appears for a moment over the surface. Wait
awhile, and the monster will blow again. Yes, there he is, spouting
and diving; on the whole, we can hear more than we can see of him.

Over rock and moss, variegated with lovely little flowers, we reach
the path which skirts the old heathen sites. Little more than the
outline of the former turf houses is visible. The turf roof has fallen
in, or been carried away, but the low mounds which formed the walls
remain, as also the roofless curving porch, which in each opened out
to the sea. More than one hundred persons of both sexes and all ages
are said to have inhabited these three houses, and their heathen life
here, with its cruelties, sorceries, and other unhallowed phases, can
better be imagined than described. It must have been a great advance
for them in every respect when they moved to the mission-station,
established nearly half a mile away, and began to learn the faith and
hope which have given it its name. In those days there must have been
a good many such heathen villages along this coast with a nomad
population far more numerous than now.

Thence we easily ascend the ship hill, over rock and moss, and
occasional patches of snow. The view is really grand, though bleak and
bare. Hundreds of rocky islands lie between us and the seaward
horizon, while to north and south one can scarcely distinguish them
from the bold headlands which stretch out into the ocean. Northward,
the white sails of from thirty to forty fishing schooners are gleaming
white in the sun. Hundreds of these craft pass up the coast from
Newfoundland every summer, and the spiritual interests of their crews
are faithfully sought at Hopedale. Sometimes the Sunday afternoon
English service is attended by more than two hundred such visitors. As
we descend the hill and return to the station past the well-kept
gardens, we make our first acquaintance with mosquitoes, but they do
not trouble us much to-day.

JOYS AND SORROWS--A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL

Each mission-station is a little world in itself; it has its own joys
and sorrows, and complete cycle of events in the human lives lived
here for a time by the will of God, who has His purposes of love in
each and all. I have touched many of these joys and sorrows during my
brief stay here.

In the godly family of this Hopedale mission-house, it is a time when
the clouds return after the rain. Little Hildegard Kaestner has been
lying for some days between life and death, but at last we can rejoice
with her parents in a degree of hope. The child has even shown a faint
interest in her toys. (I am grieved to hear on my return that the
little one passed away while her father was absent with me on duty.)
Our English missionary sister has also been passing through woman's
time of trial and honour, and we are now able to rejoice with her and
her husband in the gift of a little girl, their firstborn. God bless
and keep mother and child!

My visits with Mr. Dam, the pastor, and his wife, to some of the
Eskimoes' houses have been singularly sad. Titus' wife, Katharina,
formerly a good and able woman, has fallen into a pitiable state of
insanity, which is not only a sore sorrow to the good man, but also a
great hindrance to his earning a livelihood. Then we were suddenly
summoned to the next house, where we found Hermine dying. In the
morning she went out fishing with her husband, Wilhadus. Both were
taken very ill with one of those colds which are so fatal to the
Eskimoes, and he feared he should not be able to bring her home alive.
She was nearly gone, and he very ill, when they did arrive. We found
her on the floor, surrounded by sympathizing and helpful neighbours.
But there was little to be done; life was fast ebbing. Mr. Dam knelt
and prayed beside her, then blessed her, and she feebly responded to
his words. The women laid her down comfortably, and as they sang
hymns, amid tears and sobs, she passed away to be with the Lord, on
whom she believed. God be praised that there is such hope and comfort
in this event.

Hermine died on Thursday, and the funeral was on Saturday afternoon,
when a little child was also buried. The first part of the service was
in the church. Then the congregation reassembled just outside, the men
by themselves and the women apart. The larger coffin was borne on the
shoulders of six men, the little one was carried by two. The whole
congregation appeared to be the mourners, nor was poor Wilhadus well
enough to follow his wife's remains to their last resting-place. After
singing a verse in front of the church, the procession moved slowly
onward to the burial ground, where Mr. Kaestner read the litany, and
the responses and singing were beautifully reverent. At his signal the
coffins were lowered into the graves, and he spoke the concluding
blessing at each.

I was present at a marriage service last Sunday. The young bridegroom
and bride sat together on two stools in the middle of the church. They
were simply and plainly dressed in clean white "sillapaks," _i.e._,
light calico tunics edged with broad braid, mostly red. The woman's
was rather more ornamental than the man's, and had a longer tail
hanging over her skirts. She had a ring on one finger, but that played
no part in the ceremony. In his opening address the minister named the
pair. William Tuktusna comes from the South, and possesses both
Christian name and surname, which is unusual for an Eskimo. The woman
is called Amalie. Both replied with a clear "Ahaila" (yes) to the
usual questions of the marriage service. They then gave the hand to
one another, and, kneeling down, a prayer and the Old Testament
blessing confirmed the solemn contract, into which they had entered
before God. As usual the congregation sang the response, "Jesum
akkane, Amen." (In the name of Jesus, Amen).

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