Volume I Part 20 (1/2)
[167] Pierre Joseph Redoute, French painter of flowers. 1759-1840.
[168] Francois Gerard, born at Rome 1770, died 1837; the best French portrait painter of his time, distinguished also for historical pictures.
[169] Charles d'Orbigny, son of Audubon's early friend, M. le docteur d'Orbigny.
[170] Count Joseph Jerome Simeon, French Minister of State. 1781-1846.
[171] The words of the secretary were fully verified within a few months.
THE LABRADOR JOURNAL
1833
INTRODUCTION
The Labrador trip, long contemplated, was made with the usual object, that of procuring birds and making the drawings of them for the continuation of the ”Birds of America,” the publication of which was being carried on by the Havells, under the supervision of Victor, the elder son, who was in London at this time. To him Audubon writes from Eastport, Maine, under date of May 31, 1833:--
”We are on the eve of our departure for the coast of Labrador. Our party consists of young Dr. George Shattuck of Boston, Thomas Lincoln of Dennysville, William Ingalls, son of Dr. Ingalls of Boston, Joseph Coolidge, John, and myself. I have chartered a schooner called the 'Ripley,' commanded by Captain Emery, who was at school with my friend Lincoln; he is reputed to be a gentleman, as well as a good sailor.
Coolidge, too, has been bred to the sea, and is a fine, active youth of twenty-one. The schooner is a new vessel, only a year old, of 106 tons, for which we pay three hundred and fifty dollars per month for the entire use of the vessel with the men, but we supply ourselves with provisions.[172] The hold of the vessel has been floored, and our great table solidly fixed in a tolerably good light under the main hatch; it is my intention to draw whenever possible, and that will be many hours, for the daylight is with us nearly all the time in those lat.i.tudes, and the fishermen say you can do with little sleep, the air is so pure. I have been working hard at the birds from the Grand Menan, as well as John, who is overcoming his habit of sleeping late, as I call him every morning at four, and we have famous long days. We are well provided as to clothes, and strange figures indeed do we cut in our dresses, I promise you: fishermen's boots, the soles of which are all nailed to enable us to keep our footing on the sea-weeds, trousers of _fearnought_ so coa.r.s.e that our legs look like bears'
legs, oiled jackets and over-trousers for rainy weather, and round, white, wool hats with a piece of oil cloth dangling on our shoulders to prevent the rain from running down our necks. A coa.r.s.e bag is strapped on the back to carry provisions on inland journeys, with our guns and hunting-knives; you can form an idea of us from this. Edward Harris is not to be with us; this I regret more than I can say. This day seven vessels sailed for the fis.h.i.+ng-grounds, some of them not more than thirty tons' burden, for these hardy fishermen care not in what they go; but _I do_, and, indeed, such a boat would be too small for us.”
The 1st of June was the day appointed for the start, but various delays occurred which r.e.t.a.r.ded this until the 6th, when the journal which follows tells its own tale.
Of all the members of the party Mr. Joseph Coolidge, now (1897) living in San Francisco, is the sole survivor.
M. R. A.
[Ill.u.s.tration: AUDUBON.
From the portrait by George P. A. Healy, London, 1838. Now in the possession of the Boston Society of Natural History.]
THE LABRADOR JOURNAL
1833
_Eastport, Maine, June 4._ Our vessel is being prepared for our reception and departure, and we have concluded to hire two extra sailors and a lad; the latter to be a kind of major-domo, to clean our guns, etc., search for nests, and a.s.sist in skinning birds. Whilst rambling in the woods this morning, I found a Crow's nest, with five young, yet small. As I ascended the tree, the parents came to their offspring crying loudly, and with such perseverance that in less than fifteen minutes upwards of fifty pairs of these birds had joined in their vociferations; yet when first the parents began to cry I would have supposed them the only pair in the neighborhood.
_Wednesday, June 5._ This afternoon, when I had concluded that everything relating to the charter of the ”Ripley” was arranged, some difficulty arose between myself and Mr. Buck, which nearly put a stop to our having his vessel. Pressed, however, as I was, by the lateness of the season, I gave way and suffered myself to be imposed upon as usual, with a full knowledge that I was so. The charter was signed, and we hoped to have sailed, but to-morrow is now the day appointed.
Our promised Hampton boat is not come.
_Thursday, June 6._ We left the wharf of Eastport about one o'clock P.
M. Every one of the male population came to see the show, just as if no schooner the size of the ”Ripley” had ever gone from this mighty port to Labrador. Our numerous friends came with the throng, and we all shook hands as if never to meet again. The batteries of the garrison, and the cannon of the revenue cutter, saluted us, each firing four loud, oft-echoing reports. Captain Coolidge accompanied us, and indeed was our pilot, until we had pa.s.sed Lubec. The wind was light and ahead, and yet with the a.s.sistance of the tide we drifted twenty-five miles, down to Little River, during the night, and on rising on the morning of June 7 we were at anchor near some ugly rocks, the sight of which was not pleasing to our good captain.
_June 7._ The whole morning was spent trying to enter Little River, but in vain; the men were unable to tow us in. We landed for a few minutes, and shot a Hermit Thrush, but the appearance of a breeze brought us back, and we attempted to put to sea. Our position now became rather dangerous, as we were drawn by the current nearly upon the rocks; but the wind rose at last, and we cleared for sea. At three o'clock it became suddenly so foggy that we could not see the bowsprit. The night was spent in direful apprehensions of ill luck; at midnight a smart squall decided in our favor, and when day broke on the morning of June 8 the wind was from the northeast, blowing fresh, and we were dancing on the waters, all shockingly sea-sick, crossing that worst of all dreadful bays, the Bay of Fundy. We pa.s.sed between the Seal Islands and the Mud Islands; in the latter _Procellaria wilsonii_, the Stormy Petrel, breeds abundantly; their nests are dug out of the sand in an oblique direction to the depth of two, or two and a half feet. At the bottom of these holes, and on the sand, the birds deposit their pure white eggs. The holes are perforated, not in the banks like the Bank Swallow, but are like rat holes over the whole of the islands. On Seal Islands _Larus argentatus_, the Herring Gull, breeds as abundantly as on Grand Menan, but altogether _on trees_. As we pa.s.sed Cape Sable, so called on account of its being truly a sand-point of some caved-in elevation, we saw a wrecked s.h.i.+p with many small crafts about it. I saw there _Uria troile_, the Foolish Guillemot, and some Gannets. The sea was dreadful, and scarcely one of us was able to eat or drink this day. We came up with the schooner ”Caledonia,” from Boston for Labrador; her captain wished to keep in our company, and we were pretty much together all night and also on Sunday.
_June 9._ We now had a splendid breeze, but a horrid sea, and were scarce able to keep our feet, or sleep. The ”Caledonia” was very near to us for some time, but when the breeze increased to a gale, and both vessels had to reef, we showed ourselves superior in point of sailing.
So good was our run that on the next morning, June 10, we found ourselves not more than thirty miles from Cape Canseau, ordinarily called Cape Cancer. The wind was so fair for proceeding directly to Labrador that our captain spoke of doing so, provided it suited my views; but, anxious as I am not to suffer any opportunity to escape of doing all I can to fulfil my engagements, I desired that we should pa.s.s through what is called ”The Gut of Canseau,” and we came into the harbor of that name[173] at three of the afternoon. Here we found twenty vessels, all bound to Labrador, and, of course, all fishermen.
We had been in view of the southeastern coast of Nova Scotia all day, a dreary, poor, and inhospitable-looking country. As we dropped our anchor we had a snowfall, and the sky had an appearance such as I never before recollect having seen. Going on sh.o.r.e we found not a tree in blossom, though the low plants near the ground were all in bloom; I saw azaleas, white and blue violets, etc., and in some situations the gra.s.s really looked well. The Robins were in full song; one nest of that bird was found; the White-throated Sparrow and Savannah Finch were also in full song. The _Fringilla nivalis_[174] was seen, and we were told that _Tetrao canadensis_[175] was very abundant, but saw none. About a dozen houses form this settlement; there was no Custom House officer, and not an individual who could give an answer of any value to our many questions. We returned on board and supped on a fine codfish. The remainder of our day was spent in catching lobsters, of which we procured forty. They were secured simply by striking them in shallow water with a gaff-hook. It snowed and rained at intervals, and to my surprise we did not observe a single seabird.
_June 11._ _Larus marinus_ (the Great Black-backed Gull) is so superior both in strength and courage to Fulmars, _Lestris_, or even Gannets, to say nothing of Gulls of all sorts, that at its approach they all give way, and until it has quite satiated itself, none venture to approach the precious morsel on which it is feeding. In this respect, it is as the Eagle to the Vultures or Carrion Crows. I omitted saying that last night, before we retired to rest, after much cold, snow, rain, and hail, the frogs were piping in all the pools on the sh.o.r.e, and we all could hear them clearly, from the deck of the ”Ripley.” The weather to-day is beautiful, the wind fair, and when I reached the deck at four A. M. we were under way in the wake of the whole of the fleet which last evening graced the Harbor of Canseau, but which now gave life to the grand bay across which all were gliding under easy pressure of sail. The land locked us in, the water was smooth, the sky pure, and the thermometer was only 46, quite cold; indeed, it was more grateful to see the suns.h.i.+ne whilst on deck this morning, and to feel its warmth, than I can recollect before at this season. After sailing for twenty-one miles, and pa.s.sing one after another every vessel of the fleet, we entered the Gut of Canseau, so named by the Spanish on account of the innumerable Wild Geese which, in years long past and forgotten, resorted to this famed pa.s.sage. The land rises on each side in the form of an amphitheatre, and on the Nova Scotia side, to a considerable height. Many _appearances_ of dwellings exist, but the country is too poor for comfort; the timber is small, and the land, very stony. Here and there a small patch of ploughed land, planted, or to be planted, with potatoes, was all we could see evincing cultivation. Near one house we saw a few apple-trees, yet without leaves. The general appearance of this pa.s.sage reminded me of some parts of the Hudson River, and accompanied as we were by thirty smaller vessels, the time pa.s.sed agreeably.
Vegetation about as forward as at Eastport; saw a Chimney Swallow, heard some Blue Jays, saw some Indians in a bark canoe, pa.s.sed Cape Porcupine, a high, rounding hill, and Cape George, after which we entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence. From this place, on the 20th of May last year, the sea was a complete sheet of ice as far as a spy-gla.s.s could inform. As we advanced, running parallel with the western coast of Cape Breton Island, the country looked well, at the distance we were from it; the large, undulating hills were scattered with many hamlets, and here and there a bit of cultivated land was seen. It being calm when we reached Jestico Island, distant from Cape Breton about three miles, we left the vessel and made for it. On landing we found it covered with well grown gra.s.s sprinkled everywhere with the blossoms of the wild strawberry; the sun shone bright, and the weather was quite pleasant. Robins, Savannah Finches, Song Sparrows, Tawny Thrushes, and the American Redstart were found. The Spotted Sand-piper, _Tota.n.u.s macularius_, was breeding in the gra.s.s, and flew slowly with the common tremor of their wings, uttering their ”wheet-wheet-wheet” note, to invite me to follow them. A Raven had a nest and three young in it, one standing near it, the old birds not seen. _Uria troile_[176] and _U. grylle_[177] were breeding in the rocks, and John saw several _Ardea herodias_[178] flying in pairs, also a pair of Red-breasted Mergansers that had glutted themselves with fish so that they were obliged to disgorge before they could fly off. Amongst the plants the wild gooseberry, nearly the size of a green pea, was plentiful, and the black currant, I think of a different species from the one found in Maine. The wind rose and we returned on board. John and the sailors almost killed a Seal with their oars.